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“But I’m here to tell you today that new seasons, though frightening, carry God’s provision within them. What looks like ending is often just beginning. What feels like loss is often making room for greater blessing. What a mighty God we serve.”

Taylor sat still, taking it all in. Her daddy was speaking life over her without even realizing it. And Brooks wasn’t squirming or checking his watch. He was there. For her. With her.

Then, her father slowed again, softened just enough for the message to reach deep.

“Even we as parents have to go through our own season of growth and letting go. Especially when they get grown. We gotta remember… what we want for our children ain’t always what they need.” His voice cracked just a little. “But God knows what they need. And we must trust and lean into him. Not our own understanding. I’m learning that myself. She was His child first.”

Taylor blinked, chest tightening. She felt her mother’s knowing gaze. And she smirked, her father had indeed showed out. She squeezed Brooks’ hand tighter, and he squeezed back, never letting go.

When it was time for the offering, she noticed him slip a sizable stack of money into the collection plate, the gesture so quick and understated she almost missed it.

“You don’t have to do that. You’re our visitor,” she whispered as the plate moved past them.

Brooks just shrugged, his eyes focused forward. “My mama taught me right. And I give my tithe every month I just don’t need a church to do.”

“I’m learning so much about you.”

When service ended, Taylor braced herself for the inevitable onslaught of attention. She wasn’t wrong. They barely made it to the back of the sanctuary before they were surrounded, curious church members, some who knew Brooks from the community, others who just knew he was someone.

To his credit, Brooks handled it all with a grace that surprised her. He shook hands, introduced himself politely, flirted with the whole mother’s board. Through it all, his hand remained at the small of her back. It was clear who he was there for.

Her mother spotted them from across the corridor, her eyes widening briefly before she made her way over. Taylor tensed, unsure what to expect after their dinner a few weeks back.

“Taylor, honey,” her mother said, embracing herwarmly before turning to Brooks. “And Brooks. This is a nice surprise.”

“Mrs. Bradshaw,” Brooks nodded respectfully. “Good to see you again.”

“You as well.” Her mother’s eyes moved between them, a small smile playing on her lips. “Will you be joining us for Sunday dinner? I made your favorite pot roast.”

Taylor hesitated, glancing at Brooks. They hadn’t discussed plans for the rest of the day.

“Actually,” her mother continued, seeming to read her hesitation, “maybe another week would be better. I imagine you two might have your own plans. May wanna talk about the sermon.”

The acceptance in her mother’s tone, the way she so casually acknowledged them as a unit, warmed Taylor. This was progress, small but significant.

“Thank you,” Taylor said, genuine gratitude in her voice. “Maybe next Sunday?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” her mother replied with a smile. She squeezed Taylor’s hand once but looked at them both. “Both of you. Church and dinner. It’s time we start acting like family.”

“Ok, momma.”

As they finally made their way out to the church steps, Taylor couldn’t believe what had just happened. Brooks Bishop had not only come to church, but he’d navigated the social dynamics perfectly.

“That wasn’t as bad as I expected,” she said, her voice soft enough that only he could hear.

Brooks grinned, standing close in front of her blocking the afternoon sun. “What, you thought I’d burst into flames when I crossed the threshold?”

She laughed, pushing his arm. “No. But I thought there might be more... awkwardness, more stares.”

“About what?” He moved slightly closer. “About me? About us?”

“Both, maybe,” she admitted. “My divorce is still piping hot tea in the church circles. And you’re...”

“A thug?” He supplied, the corner of his mouth curling, more amused than offended.

Taylor’s smile faded. She came closer crowding his space, her voice firm but gentle. “Don’t call yourself that. Don’t reduce who you are to a label that doesn’t fit you. That’s not who you are. You just kind of pissed me off.”

He arched a brow, curious now. “What am I then Taylor? Most see a thug. It’s cool.”