Page 50 of His Elder

"No?" He moved closer, his gaze fixed on me. "Then why have your statistics dropped? Why have you stopped bearing testimony in district meetings? Why do you look at your companion like—" He stopped himself, but the implication hung in the air.

My heart was a drum in my chest.

"I don't know what you think you see, Elder Kempton," I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "But we're doing the work. We're following the rules."

"Are you?" He glanced at the bedroom door. "May I?"

Before I could answer, he crossed to the door and opened it. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, surveying the room. Two beds, neatly made. My scriptures on the nightstand. Eli's sketchbook on his desk.

But Kempton's eyes narrowed. He stepped inside and crossed to Eli's bed, crouching down. He reached under the bed and pulled out the small bottle of lubricant.

Time stopped.

Kempton stood slowly, holding the bottle between two fingers like it was contaminated. His face had gone pale, then flushed red.

"What," he said, his voice shaking, "is this?"

Neither of us spoke.

"Answer me!" The shout echoed through the apartment.

"It's mine," Eli said quietly.

Kempton's head snapped toward him. "Yours."

"Yes."

"And what, exactly, were you using it for?"

Eli's eyes met mine. In them, I saw the choice he was making. The sacrifice.

"Personal use," Eli said.

Kempton's lip curled. "Personal use." He turned to me. "Elder Price, did you know about this?"

I couldn't speak. My throat had closed.

"Elder Price!"

"I—" My voice cracked. "I didn't—"

"He didn't know," Eli interrupted. "I kept it hidden."

Kempton stared at him, disgust etched into every line of hisface. Then he looked at me, and I saw the question there. The suspicion.

"Both of you," Kempton said, his voice cold. "Pack whatever you need for the night. You're coming with me. President Dalton will want to speak with both of you immediately."

My stomach dropped. "Elder Kempton, please—"

"I said pack your things, Elder Price." He turned those ice-chip eyes on me. "Unless you'd like to tell me right now that you had no knowledge of what's been happening in this apartment?"

The question hung in the air like a noose. I could lie. I could tell him Eli had been acting alone, that I was innocent, that I had no idea. He might even believe me—the golden boy, the stake president's son, led astray by his wayward companion.

But when I opened my mouth, I found I couldn't do it. I couldn't let Eli take this fall alone.

"I'll pack," I whispered.

Eli's eyes found mine across the room. In them I saw surprise, fear, and something else—something that looked almost like pride.