Page 42 of His Elder

"Iamspiritually weak. I'm distracted. I'm failing."

"Samuel—"

"Don't." I pushed back from the table, standing. "Don't tell me I'm not. We both know what I did. What I let you do. I'm unworthy, Eli. Kempton can see it, even if he doesn't know the details."

Eli stood too, his voice hard. "You're not unworthy. You're human."

"In the Church, those are the same thing."

He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing, momentarily taken aback by my sudden earnestness, and then he shook his head. "I can't do this again. I can't watch you tear yourself apart over something that doesn't matter."

"Itdoesmatter."

"Why? Because Kempton said so? Because some idiotic dead prophet wrote it down a hundred years ago? Because your father will be disappointed?"

"Because it'strue." My voice cracked. "Because if it's not true, then nothing is. And I can't—I can't live in a world where nothing is true."

Eli stepped toward me, his eyes blazing. "Then live in a world wherethisis true." He grabbed my hand, pressing it against his chest. "Where you and me, right now, right here—this is real. This is the only thing that's real."

I tried to pull away, but he held on.

"You think you've lost everything?" he said. "Fine. Maybe you have. Maybe Kempton's going to reassign you. Maybe your mission president's going to send you home. Maybe your family's going to disown you when they find out.But you know what, Samuel? You're still here. You're still alive. And you still get to choose what happens next."

"I don't have a choice."

"You do." His grip tightened. "You always did. You just didn't want to make it."

The words hit me like a fist. I stared at him, my breath coming fast, and something inside me snapped.

He was right.

I'd spent my whole life pretending I didn't have a choice. Pretending the path was set, the script written, the outcome inevitable. But that was a lie. I'd always had a choice. I'd just been too afraid to make it.

Until now.

Because now, there was nothing left to lose.

I waited until after planning session. Until after we'd brushed our teeth and changed into our sleep clothes and climbed into our separate beds. Until the lights were off and the apartment was dark and silent.

Then I got up.

Eli's breathing was steady, but I knew he wasn't asleep. I could feel the tension in the room, thick and electric.

I crossed to his bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.

He turned his head, his eyes gleaming in the faint light from the streetlamp outside. "Samuel?"

I didn't answer. I reached out, my hand trembling, and touched his face. His skin was warm beneath my palm, rough with stubble.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"I don't know."

That was a lie. I knew exactly what I was doing.

I leaned down and kissed him.

It wasn't like before. It wasn't hesitant or stolen or desperate. It was deliberate. Intentional. A choice.