Page 26 of Divine Temptations

Jake was gone.

Just like that, he’d vanished. The door at the back of the sanctuary still swung gently from where he’d slipped out. No smile. No wink. No wave. Just... gone.

I stood there, frozen, as the deacons rose and the congregation filed out, murmuring their polite Sunday greetings, unaware that their preacher was standing in the middle of a breakdown.

They didn’t know I was at war.

With God.

With myself.

Because the love I felt for Jake made me want to fall to my knees and scream.

Chapter Eight

Jake

The sheets were still warm where his body had been. Ethan had slipped out of bed so quietly, like he thought I’d sleep through the soft creak of the floorboards, the whisper of denim sliding up long legs, the click of his belt buckle.

But I wasn’t asleep.

Hell, I hadn’t slept all damn night.

I laid there staring at the ceiling, heart pounding, jaw clenched, listening to him get dressed in the dark like he was some teenager sneaking out of his boyfriend’s bedroom before Mom and Dad woke up.

His keys jingled. Then the door clicked shut.

A second later, I heard the cough of his shitbox Honda trying to turn over. I closed my eyes and counted the stutters of the engine like rosary beads. One. Two. Three. Four…

The engine caught.

I sat up in bed, the blanket falling down to my waist, heat still clinging to my skin from hours ago when he fell apart underneath me.

“Something’s gotta give,” I muttered into the empty room, voice gravel-thick. “Because I swear to God, I feel like the other woman or something.”

And that was the truth. I felt like a fucking secret. A sin.

And maybe that shouldn’t have mattered. Maybe I should’ve been okay with the quiet moments. His trembling hands on my skin, the way he whispered my name like it was sacred. But then he’d run.

Every damn time.

He’d kiss me like he was drowning and I was air, and then bolt before the sun came up like it never happened.

And I let him.

Every. Damn. Time.

Because I loved him.

Even if we’d never said the words.

Even if he couldn’t.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and let out a bitter laugh. “Congratulations, Jake. You’ve officially become a cliché. Hot sex, secret boyfriend, zero dignity.” I stood up, crossed the room, and stared out the window.

There he went. Driving off toward that little trailer with the peeling siding and the shitty vinyl blinds that never quite closed right. Back to pretending. Back to praying away what we did in the dark.

I stood there watching until his taillights disappeared, fists clenched at my sides. My chest ached with something that wasn’t just frustration. It was grief. Grief for a man who wasn’t even gone.