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Bobby’s face draws to a scowl. “I don’t want you alone with that guy.”
“He lives with us. That’s virtually impossible.”
“I don’t like it.”
I ignore his attempt at machismo and press forward. “We need to talk about the future and our goals.”
His eyes narrow. “Our future is set.”
“No. I know you talk about missionary work, but as I’ve said before, that’s not what I want to do.”
“What do you mean? It’s all we’ve ever talked about. I’d become a preacher and you’d obtain your nursing degree. We’d be a great team spreading knowledge and Christianity.”
I bristle. The worst mistake I made was not speaking against the idea when Bobby first brought it up. But I was at a low point in my life, and anything that took me away from here sounded good, but things have changed. My thoughts and goals have changed. My mom’s death taught me life isn’t guaranteed, and we need to be happy. But how do I explain to him without coming across as one of the people he wants to save? Spare me that lecture, please.
“That has never been my dream. I’ve tried telling you that before.”
“Nonsense. Once you go, you’ll see that it’s your life’s calling. You want to do more than sit around and plan parties for the church.”
I lean back in my seat and stare at him. That comment feels like a direct slam to my mom. She was the church’s event coordinator. “That may not be how I wish to spend my time, but that job is every bit as important.”
“Cassie, relax. I just meant you’re more than that.”
That’s still a backhanded compliment.
If only I could redo everything, I would, but Bobby was there during Mom’s illness. He got me through my grieving process. I can see now that I leaned on him too much, which wasn’t fair to him.
I hate letting people down. I pride myself on doing for others. I can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes. But when I look back at him, there’s only determination. He doesn’t seem to be hurting at all.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that my goals have changed, and I no longer want to do missionary work. I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.”
“That’s your nerves talking. I was nervous for my first mission trip too.”
“No, Bobby, that’s not it. We’re too different. I like helping people. That’s why I went into nursing school, but I want to help patients here in the States. I have no desire to spread God’s Word.”Especially since I stopped believing in the concept of religion.There, I voiced it, if only in my head. I’ve been so lost for so long. I can’t fathom the idea of preaching every day in a foreign country. Why can’t he see our goals and wants are miles apart. Why wouldn’t he want to break it off?
“I think I know what’s best for you, Cassie. You’re like a delicate flower. You’ll wilt without support. Once you graduate, you’ll have more confidence. Trust God. It’s his will.”
I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood. God’s plan for me isn’t to go on a religious mission. God doesn’t have a plan for me at all. He gave up on me.
My fingers dig into my thighs, the need to scream at him for not listening claws at my throat. If we weren’t in public, I would. This discussion should’ve been held privately, but there wasn’t any way I’d get him to come over with Dad being gone on the baseball trip. And I need to break things off with him.
“You’re not listening to me.” My voice is low and steady as I study the white linen cover. I’m trying hard to rein in my temper. “I’m breaking up with you.”
“No, I hear you, but you’re confused. I think that the delinquent you have staying at your house is messing with your head.”
I snap my chin up. “Dalton isn’t a delinquent. He’s a good guy.”
The condescending look Bobby shoots my way fuels my anger. “If he’s such a good guy, then why did your dad have to pick him up from jail last night?”
“What?”
“Yeah. Yourgood guygot into a bar fight. So not only was he out when he shouldn’t have been, he was in a bar drinking and fighting.”
No! That can’t be right.
My heart pinches. Scouts were supposed to be at that game.
“How would you know that?” I ask. I haven’t talked to Dad today. And it’s not as if I can text Dalton. I stole his number off Dad’s roster and programmed it in my phone—not that it does any good. I can’t do anything with it since Dad checks my texts and call logs.
