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I don’t like Kevin. Not like that. And I’m definitely not a random hookup kind of girl. Well, I haven’t been. But I’m 20 years old, single, and available. Despite the way Isaac would look down on me dating, there’s nothing to say I can’t.
But the thought of dating, of spending my time with random guys, especially the ones around town, makes me nauseous. Like, literally want to vomit. It always has.
I used to think it was because I was just so nervous around boys. Always fumbling over my words, my fair cheeks flushing scarlet every time one of them would talk to me, or hell, look at me.
As I got older, I figured it had more to do with the fact that it was the wrong boys talking to me than anything else.
Until that all changed.
Now I have no idea what my deal is. No one’s grabbed my attention or held it long enough for me to try. To care.
Maybe Kevin was right. Maybe I am broken.
Sighing, I shake my tumultuous thoughts away as I close in on the church. I pause, taking a moment to inhale deeply, letting the humid air settle deep into my lungs and ground me.
This.
This is my favorite place.
Growing up the daughter of a preacher in a little place called Haven, Georgia had its perks. One of them being the home my father was given for his role in the town. It was an adorable yellow Victorian with a white wooden porch swing that Mama would spend every night on, rocking us back and forth while singing You Are My Sunshine.
When Daddy died, I thought I’d never find another place that called to my heart the way that house did. I thought I’d never feel at home again.
Then Isaac came back into our lives and made sure Mama and I had a safe place to land.
That place was Divinity Falls.
Four hours North of where I was born and raised, Divinity Falls is a charming, sweet town filled with wonderful people. Though it’s mostly a farming community, the town is well-maintained and loved. Being just off the main highway headed toward the city of Mammoth makes Divinity a common pitstop for travelers, keeping our businesses busy and economy afloat.
Named after the multi-level falls on the edge of town below the major mountain peaks, this place is one of a kind.
Special.
But it’s the church that instantly made me feel at home here. The church and the land it’s on. Just like back home in Haven, the town preacher was given a residence for himself and his family. Isaac and Roman spent years settling into the property before we came along and gave it a much needed woman's touch.
Or so Mama always said.
My home now may not be a sweet yellow Victorian, but the two-story, white colonial is just as pretty. It shares land with the church, surrounded by fields that bloom full of wildflowers in the hot summers. Barry’s Pond separates the church and our house, and it only takes a ten-minute walk to travel between the two.
Something that I’m unbelievably grateful for on hot afternoons like this one.
“You comin’ or goin’, child?” a scratchy voice quips, making me jump. My hand lands on my heart as I whirl on the owner of the voice.
My eyes land on Mr. Peters, a kind elderly man who attends these weekly meetings without fail. I exhale a shaky breath and smile widely at him.
“Coming.” I nod toward the entrance of the church, just beyond the white picket fence I’d been rooted in front of. “Join me?” I offer him my elbow, knowing he’s a bit unsteady on his feet these days.
He grins, his pink sunken cheeks wrinkling with the movement, and accepts my offer, tucking himself into my side.
“Runnin’ a little late today,” he grunts, watching my sandaled foot kick out to toe-open the swinging gate. I smirk, knowing there’s no way in Hell he’s late. The man will be early for his own funeral.
“We’ve got plenty of time,” I murmur, patting his hand. I usher him ahead of me and let the gate latch closed behind us with a clunk. “Besides,” I add, meeting his grey eyes with a bright smile, “they’d never start without the life of the party.”
He scowls at me, but I wink, letting him know I see through his grumpy exterior.
“Stop flirtin’ with me, girl,” he grumbles, his face going even pinker. “I’m too pretty for you.” He hugs my arm tighter as we slowly make our way up the few steps to the front door of the weathered white ship-lapped building.
My head falls back as a loud laugh spills from my throat, instantly making me feel brighter than I have in days.
