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“What are you doing, Isaac?” I murmur, shaking my head. I close the door and it slams loudly, echoing off the narrow hallway walls. “And why do I care so damn much?”
“Sorry I’m late, y’all.”
I turn toward his voice, my heart leaping into my throat as I watch him emerge from the hallway I just left. Isaac adjusts his rolled sleeves, pushing them to his elbows.
“A phone call kept me busy,” he says, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. My eyes narrow slightly. A phone call? With who?
His powerful gaze searches the church, and when he finds me, his shoulders relax and a small smile graces his full lips. It’s infectious, and I can’t hold my own grin back.
Everyone and everything around us falls away as we stare at each other. The glint in his eyes, the crinkles around them, tell me so much, apologize for so much, and I feel all my earlier anger melt away.
How can he do that? Bring me so much comfort after depriving me of it?
Before I can analyze it too much, a tap on my shoulder pulls me away from him, and I turn my attention to the man standing beside me. He’s more than a few inches taller than me, maybe a few years older, too, with dark hair and light, kind eyes. He’s a handsome man. One I don’t recognize.
“Is this the AA meeting?” he asks, his voice raspy. His eyes dart to the circle of chairs in the center of the small stage, already filled with people.
“Yes, sir,” I say, smiling up at him. “I’m Eve.”
“Marcus.” I hold my hand out and he gently takes it, gripping it for a beat too long. His brows dip as his gaze searches mine, and I gently tug my hand from his. He swallows thickly, his shoulders bowing in a fraction.
“You okay?” I ask, and he clears his throat.
“Just a bit nervous.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, and I give him a sympathetic smile. That’s understandable.
“We’re so happy you’re here, Marcus.” I clasp my hands tightly together in front of myself, trying to refrain from fidgeting. He really is cute.
Isaac shuffles around the stage, murmuring to other attendees and moving some seats around to make space for the newcomer. Marcus says something, his dark brows lifting slightly as he waits for my answer.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, shaking my head slightly. He laughs, showing off his deep dimples. I bite my lip in embarrassment. Shit. I’m like a fawning virgin.
“I asked if you’re here for the meeting, too,” he says, scanning my body. “I can’t imagine a girl like you ever being addicted to anything.” I cover my mouth as I choke on a laugh.
If only he knew.
“We all have our vices, Marcus,” I say softly. “I’m Preacher Isaac’s stepdaughter. I’m just here to help set up.” I gesture to the table of refreshments I’m working on now that the stage is as it should be. He nods in understanding and glances at Isaac as he happily catches up with Opal and Tom. “But if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate.”
I smile up at Marcus, waiting for him to take his seat. Like a slap to the forehead, I realize he doesn’t know what to do or where to go. Placing my hand on his upper back, I gently guide him down the aisle toward the intimate meeting area. I’m unsure if I imagine it, but it almost feels as though he shudders under my touch.
“Sit wherever you’d like,” I whisper, not wanting to call too much attention to him when he’s so obviously nervous. His throat bobs as he swallows, looking around the small group. It’s mostly men, but a few women are scattered throughout. He looks hesitant and doesn’t budge a step. “God accepts us all, even if we’ve made mistakes in the past. We’re like a family here, and everyone will welcome you with open arms.” He gives me a tight-lipped smile before sliding into the nearest empty chair.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Isaac says softly, his voice warm and familiar. The sound of my nickname coming from him snaps my spine straight. Heat rushes through me at the soft smile on his face, but just as quickly as it came, he looks away and is all Preacher again. “I see we have a new face tonight. Welcome…” He lifts his brows expectantly, and Marcus clears his throat.
“Marcus, sir,” he says, bowing his head slightly. Isaac’s smile stays in place as he stands, clasping his notes, Bible, and hands in front of him. The glinting cross behind him is the perfect backdrop, reminding us all that he’s a man of God—a man God chose to preach his word and teachings.
“Well, welcome to our little meeting, son,” he says, waving his hand around at the group. “Though, as Eve said, we’re more of a family. We’re happy to have you here.”
I clear my throat as I turn on my heel and head toward the refreshments table in the back. I still have a few things to do. I’m moving slowly today. Or maybe I’m just hanging around intentionally.
My smile stays in place as I listen to Isaac talk with everyone. He’s not one of those annoying Preachers who spout gospel at you, or makes non-believers feel like they’re going to Hell for not following the word of God. He welcomes everyone, just like my daddy did—Isaac learned from the best.
My hands are steady as I set everything up, putting the snacks, coffee and water in their rightful places. I even prepared fresh sun tea today, knowing it would be an extra warm evening.
“Since Marcus is new, maybe we can go around and tell him a bit about ourselves? Maybe our stories if anyone feels up for it?” Isaac suggests.
“You go first, Preacher Isaac,” Bobby, one of the men around Isaac’s age, calls. I smile to myself as I turn around, my hand resting over my heart as I watch Isaac’s face turn a light crimson. He rubs the back of his neck, huffing out an awkward laugh.
“Oh, I’m sure y’all don’t want to hear that story again,” he says, waving a dismissive hand in the air. I love his story—we all do.
