Page 45 of Robbin’ the Rich

Then Micah said, "I mostly did church camps."

My stomach tightened. The words hit harder than they should've. He continued before I could respond.

"Every summer. VBS. Retreats. Youth camps. You name it."

Something in his tone shifted. It was like he was about to say more, maybe explain it further, but I wasn't listening anymore. Because suddenly I was thinking about Lila and Lantern House again. I could only see two eighteen years old and crying on a shelter porch because they thought love was supposed to be enough.

The silence stretched.

"Robin?"

I swallowed. "Sorry."

"You okay?"

No… But somehow I found myself talking anyway. The darkness of my bedroom cocooned me, making me feel safer somehow. Maybe I could say it without looking at him.

"I told you about my first girlfriend."

His voice softened immediately. "Lila."

"Yeah."

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. "Her parents found out about us. Well, when my best friend told them, but anyway…"

The words still hurt even now, all these years later.

"She went to church with them every Sunday. Believed everything they taught her." My throat tightened. "And then one day, she didn't have a home anymore."

The silence on the other end felt heavy.

When Micah finally spoke, his voice sounded rough.

"Robin..."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "I know."

Micah exhaled shakily. "I'm so sorry."

The devastation in his voice startled me. It was like he'd been there, like he'd watched it happen. As if somehow, he'd been the one who failed her.

"It wasn't your fault," I said quietly.

"I know." But he didn't sound convinced. "I just..." He swallowed hard. "Nobody should lose their family because of who they love."

My chest tightened. I could tell he meant every word. There was no qualification or conditions, just certainty.

I pressed my cheek against the pillow.

"That's why I hate the church."

The confession settled between us.

“I get it,” he said simply.

The conversation turned lighter after that. We covered almost everything that night, from our favorite Halloween candy to the existence of Crocs. I even forgave him for the moral depravity of liking pineapple on pizza.

Eventually our voices grew softer and sleepier. The pauses between responses stretched longer and longer.