And now he had the nerve to call us family? To introduce me to his perfect little life with his perfect little fiance? It made me sick.
I rolled onto my side, pulling the pillow over my head as if I could smother the thoughts. Tomorrow would be another day of figuring shit out on my own. Just like always. At least this time I had a solid lead on some money from selling the ranch. Then I could start over somewhere else, somewhere without the ghosts of my past lurking around every corner.
God, I couldn’t fucking wait to get out of this town.
Chapter 5
Mike
When I finally walked out of the church, it was nearly midnight. But after a long day of running around, coordinating, consoling, and otherwise doing my best to be comforting in this time of need, I was exhausted. The only thing I wanted to do was collapse into my bed and just cease to exist for a few hours. Helping people was wonderful. But I desperately needed some alone time.
The night air felt good against my skin as I trudged across the parking lot. The stars were out in full force, twinkling like they hadn’t just witnessed a town torn apart. The tornado must’ve taken all the clouds with it. I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and saying a quick prayer. For strength, for guidance, for the ability to be what these people needed me to be even though I felt ill equipped for the job.
I’d only been pastor here for a week before disaster struck. Talk about a trial by fire.
As I approached the parsonage, I noticed a light on in the kitchen. Cash. I’d almost forgotten about my new houseguest in all the chaos. Part of me hoped he was already asleep, tucked away in the spare room. I wasn’t sure I had the energy for more hostility tonight.
I turned my key in the lock as quietly as possible and slipped inside. The living room was dark, but the kitchen light spilled into the hallway. I heard movement, the clink of a glass, and then the opening of a cabinet.
“Hello?” I called softly, not wanting to startle him.
I rounded the corner to find Cash standing at the counter, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He’d found my small bottle I kept for special occasions, tucked away in the back of a cabinet. His eyes met mine, defiant, almost daring me to say something about it.
“Didn’t think pastors kept the hard stuff,” he said, raising the glass slightly.
I shrugged, too tired to be anything but honest. “Jesus turned water into wine, not the other way around.”
That earned me the slightest twitch of his lips, not quite a smile but not a scowl either. Progress, maybe.
“Rough time settling in?” I asked, setting my keys on the counter and shrugging off my jacket. It was meant as a joke.
“Rough life,” he replied, clearly meaning it, as he took another sip. The whiskey was nearly gone. I hadn’t even opened the bottle yet.
I nodded, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “You’re welcome to the whiskey. Just don’t drink yourself sick in my bathroom.”
Cash snorted. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“No, I suppose not.” I leaned against the counter, uncapping my water bottle. Up close, I could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. Whatever had happened at that ranch today had hit him hard, though he was doing his damnedest not to show it. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, my age, but he looked like he’d been put through the wringer more than once. It was obvious life had not been kind tohim, but I made sure to guard my tone. I already knew he didn’t respond well to pity.
“Food in the fridge is fair game too,” I added. “You must’ve made a sandwich already.”
His eyes narrowed. “How’d you know that?”
“The bread was in a different spot, and there are exactly two fewer slices than there were this morning.” At his look of surprise, I smiled. “I notice things. Comes with the job.”
“Thought the job was saving souls or whatever.” His tone was dismissive, but there was genuine curiosity underneath. “Don’t you have a quota to hit?”
I took a long drink of water before answering. “No quota,” I smiled. “It’s mostly about seeing people. Really seeing them.” I paused. “Even the ones who don’t want to be seen. And then trying to help.”
Cash’s jaw tightened, and he drained the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. “Well, don’t waste your time trying to help me, Pastor. I’m just passing through and I can take care of myself.”
“Mike,” I corrected gently. “Just Mike is fine.”
He set the empty glass down with a little too much force. “Whatever.” He glared at me, but I could tell the anger was old and about something completely different. “I’m selling that ranch and getting the hell out of this town as soon as possible.”
I nodded, not arguing. “Fair enough. But while you’re here, you’ve got a safe place to stay and hot water for showers. No strings attached.”
“There are always strings,” he muttered, almost to himself.
