“Because sometimes,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying clearly through the hushed church, “home isn’t a place we’ve never left. Sometimes it’s a place we have to find the courage to return to, even when the sight of it terrifies us.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I gripped the edge of the pew so hard my knuckles went white, fighting the urge to bolt for the door. But I stayed, transfixed by the man at the pulpit who somehow managed to speak directly to my soul while addressing an entire congregation.
When Mike finished his sermon and the final hymn began, I didn’t wait around for the socializing that would inevitably follow. I slipped out the back door while everyone else was still singing, needing air, needing space to process what had just happened.
The morning sun was bright after the dimness of the church, and I stood on the front steps taking deep breaths of the crisp air. My shirt was damp with sweat despite the cool temperature, and my hands were shaking slightly.
“Cash?”
I turned to find Brooks approaching, Rowan beside him. They both looked concerned, and I realized I probably looked as shaken as I felt. I hadn’t even noticed them in the church.
“You okay?” Brooks asked, his voice gentle.
“Fine,” I said automatically, then shook my head. “No. Not fine. But I will be.”
Rowan stepped closer, his green eyes studying my face. “That was quite a sermon.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah. About as subtle as a brick to the head.”
“Sometimes that’s what it takes,” Brooks said quietly. “To get through a stubborn man’s head.”
I looked at him sharply, but there was no judgment in his expression. Just understanding, and maybe a little sympathy.
“I told you he cares about you,” Rowan said simply. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”
“It’s not that simple,” I muttered, looking away.
“It could be,” Brooks said. “If you let it.”
Before I could respond, the church doors opened behind us and people began streaming out. Mike appeared in the doorway, surrounded by congregation members wanting to shake his hand and compliment his sermon. But even as he smiled and chatted with them, his eyes were searching the crowd.
When he spotted me standing with Brooks and Rowan, relief flooded his features. He excused himself from the group and made his way over to us.
“Cash,” he said, slightly breathless. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”
“Almost wasn’t,” I admitted.
Mike’s face fell slightly, but I was still upset. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I know the sermon was?—”
“Directed at me in particular?” I snapped. “You couldn’t have given me some kind of warnin’ about all that?”
“Cash, I didn’t?—”
“Go talk to your flock,” I said, turning away from him. “I… I need to take a walk.”
I walked away before he could say anything else, my boots clicking against the concrete steps as I descended toward the street. I could hear him calling my name behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. Not when my chest felt like it was caving in and my throat was so tight I could barely breathe.
The streets of Sagebrush were quiet, most folks still at church or heading home for Sunday dinner. I found myself walking without any real destination in mind, just needing to move, to put distance between myself and that church and the way Mike’s words had stripped me bare in front of half the town.
Sometimes home isn’t a place we’ve never left. Sometimes it’s a place we have to find the courage to return to.
Fuck him for saying that. Fuck him for making it sound so simple, like all I had to do was decide to stay and everything would magically work itself out. Like this place hadn’t chewed me up and spit me out once before. Like my father’s ghost wasn’t lurking around every corner, reminding me that I wasn’t wanted here.
I found myself on the outskirts of town without really meaning to, standing at the edge of what used to be the old Miller property. The house was gone now, nothing but a concrete foundation and some rusted fence posts to mark where it had been. But I remembered it. Remembered riding past it on my way to school, remembered the way Mrs. Miller used to wave from her front porch.
Everything changes. Everything dies. Everything gets torn down eventually.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see Mike’s name on the screen, but I let it go to voicemail. Then it buzzed again. And again.
