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“Yeah, I hear you,” I tell him. Shelby smirks at him, but it’s good natured. I think we’re both relieved the secret is out, at least with Axel.

Shelby walks off first, but Axel holds me back. “GG,” he says, tugging on his eyebrow piercing, “that’s the name you had her under on your phone?”

“Yeah.”

“What does it stand for?”

I take a deep breath and look at my friend. “You really want to know?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“It’s my nickname for her. GG, for Good Girl.”

A darkness flickers through his eyes and I brace myself thinking he may murder me after all. His jaw clenches and he just turns and stalks down the hall, saying, “You know? That’s on me. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Nope,” I laugh, following him, “you really shouldn’t have.”

Like Axel said, his parents are all smiles and pleasantries when we walk in the kitchen. The vibe is still there. A current of tension mostly between Reverend Rakestraw and his children, but when it comes to me they’re polite and ask me questions about my classes and my family.

“Reid comes from a family with seven kids,” Shelby says, over the juiciest brisket I’ve ever had in my life. Damn, now I know why Shelby is an amazing cook.

“Seven?” The Reverend says. “That’s quite a handful.”

“It is,” I take a sip of my sweet tea, “but they knew what they were getting into. They adopted each of us out of the foster system.”

“Well,” Mrs. Rakestraw says, clearly impressed, “that’s a wonderful example of servitude.”

“I think they just like the chaos.”

For whatever reason, this topic seems to shift the mood. I suspect everyone is looking for something to talk about that isn’t about the feud Axel has with his father or the fact Shelby blew up her engagement, which is why I’ve become the center of attention.

“Reid is also a talented artist,” Shelby continues, reaching for my hand under the table. “The athletic department commissioned him to create the new logo for the hockey team and it’ll be on all of the designs for the playoffs.”

The Reverend takes a slow chew of brisket, followed by a bite of dinner roll, then he asks, “You’re going to the playoffs?”

Axel blinks, realizing his father is speaking to him. “Uh, yeah,” he glances at me, “we’re a lock for the finals and if we win our game this weekend, we’ll advance to the final six in Chicago.”

Reverend Rakestraw doesn’t say much past that and Mrs. Rakestraw takes over. “So you’ll get a degree in graphic design then.” I nod, mouthful of food. “I imagine you’ll be looking for a job after graduation?”

“Actually, I have one. I’ve been drafted by New York. Art was a skill I was able to hone and develop no matter where I lived. And if I’ve learned anything over the last twenty years, it’s that it’s good to have a backup plan.” I squeeze Shelby’s hand under the table. “I grew up with a lot of instability and very little control over where or who I lived with. Security is important to me, although my adoptive family, my father in particular, has taught me to also follow my dreams.”

The questions fall off there, and the tension returns. Mostly because Shelby’s father’s eyes ping between me and his daughter, like he’s reading a map. It’s a relief when dinner is finished. Shelby stands, grabbing plates to take to the kitchen. When she reaches the platter that held the meat, I touch her wrist and say, “I’ve got it.”

“Reid.”

I look over at Shelby’s father. “Yes, sir?”

“I’d like a word in private, please.”

“Sure, let me take this in the kitchen first.”

“I’ll be in the library.”

I carry in the plates, and set them on the counter by the sink. When I turn, Axel and Shelby are both in the kitchen doorway. He rolls his eyes. “I told you to cut out the eye-fucking.”

“We weren’t eye–” she swallows the word. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, you were, and now that I know about it, it’s all I can see.” He looks at me. “The Rev probably just wants to save your soul or something. No matter what, tell him you’re baptized. I don’t want to go out to the creek tonight.”