Darkness looms. My stomach drops.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
I shake my head. It was my fault.
I squeeze my eyes shut, arms wrapped around my middle. It’s too much that a kind touch from him can’t be relished—it’s always accompanied with fear of flashbacks, fear of fear itself. I’m not trustworthy, at least my mind isn’t. I’m a ticking time bomb.
The black claws of fear grip me, wrenching me where I don’t want to go.
Aiden shouting, his hand switching between slamming the steering wheel and gripping my arm. “You got what you wanted, now I’m getting what I want.” Speeding toward the hotel he booked, the one I said no to so many times. I beg him to let me out. I try to secretly call Mom, but he yanks my phone away and rolls down his window, flinging it out. He grabs my neck and squeezes. “You did this. Don’t go out with someone if you don’t want to act like a girlfriend. Don’t say yes to prom if you’re not going to give me what I earned.”
Trapped in this bullet speeding into the darkness. Searching frantically for a way out. Slipping my heels off. Silently releasing my seat belt. Tumbling out of the slowing car. Running as fast as I’ve ever run. Rain pouring down my face, sloshing over my legs. The car door slams. He’ll catch me any second. Something keeps me moving. Falling, scrambling up. Gas station lights.
I lurch back to the present, scrubbing my eyes as if it will remove the darkness. I refuse to cry. I refuse. “What do you need to talk about?” I force out.
“Are you okay? What can I do?” His concern washes over me.
“You can start talking. Please, it will help if I can listen.”
“Alright … My father called yesterday. Something has … come up. He needs to borrow some cash.” He looks like he could be sick.
“Something bad?”
“Yes, bad. This has never happened before. I’m not … I’m having a hard time.” Like a lost little kid.
I gently nod him along.
“I … I thought it would be easier if that money were gone. And I’ve tried to pretend it is.” He swings his head away and studies a grove of sullen oak trees. “I tell myself it’s not even mine—my grandparents set up the trust when I was born. But Granny is the trustee, and my father knows I could convince her to pull the principal if I wanted.” He starts pacing. “But when I committed to Jesus, I gave him everything, including that money. So I have to decide where it goes as if he’s here to authorize every expenditure. I’ve been praying constantly since yesterday, and …” He deflates.
“And?”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to give it to him.”
“If you’re sure it’s not what Jesus wants, you can’t do it.”
“But he’s my father. He needs me. He’ll never forgive me if I betray him like this.”
“May I ask why he needs the money?”
He studies me. “Why?”
I lift my hands. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay. God wants our hearts, not just our money. It sounds like this is more about loyalty.”
Levi’s eyes drift to the pond, avoiding mine. “Easy for you to say.”
I shrink back. “It’s hard not to say the wrong thing if I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Fine.” His voice drops. “My father’s being blackmailed.”
My jaw drops.
“It’s more common than you’d think.” He drags a hand over his face and behind his neck. “Most of these situations go unreported. Image is everything,” he says bitterly. “His assets—and Everett’s—are rather illiquid at the moment, whereas mine are two business days from a wire.”
“That’s terrible, Levi. I’m so sorry. May I ask …”
He steels himself. “Go ahead.”
“May I ask if the secret needs to stay that way? Will this continue to be an issue if he covers it up?”
