Page 57 of His Elder

Samuel could be saved. The golden boy could be salvaged, his record scrubbed mostly clean, his future still intact. All it required was someone to take the fall.

All it required was me.

"Yes," I said quietly. "I understand."

President Dalton moved to the door and opened it. "Sister Roig will show you to one of the conference rooms. You'll wait there while I make arrangements. Elder Kempton will escort you to the airport tomorrow morning. You'll fly back to Las Vegas. I'll contact your stake president and brief him on the situation."

"What about Elder Price?"

"Elder Price will remain here overnight while I make arrangements for his transfer." President Dalton's expressionsoftened slightly—not for me, but at the thought of Samuel. The victim who could still be redeemed. "You will not speak to him again. You will not contact him in any way. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"One more thing, Elder Vance." President Dalton's voice stopped me at the threshold. "I want you to know that I don't take pleasure in this. I believe you have worth as a son of God. But your actions here have been predatory. You've harmed another missionary—a good young man who was trying desperately to do what's right. I hope you'll take this time to reflect on that. To truly repent."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Sister Roig was waiting in the hallway with a kind, pitying smile. Samuel was still in his chair, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs even as his eyes darted up to meet mine, shining with an emotion I couldn’t quite place.

I wanted to go to him. To kneel in front of him and take his hands and tell him the truth—that I'd lied, that I'd taken the blame, that he was free.

But President Dalton was watching from the doorway.

So I walked past Samuel without a word, following Sister Roig down the hallway to a small conference room. She murmured something about getting me water, about taking all the time I needed, and then closed the door gently behind her.

I was alone.

I sank into one of the chairs and stared at the blank wall.

I'd done it. Saved him. Given Samuel the narrative he needed to survive this—the faithful elder led astray by the predator. The golden boy who'd stumbled but could be redeemed.

It was the right choice. The only choice.

So why did I feel like I'd just carved out my own heart and left it bleeding on President Dalton's desk?

The room was silent except for the hum of the air conditioning. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and let myself break.

Because in saving Samuel, I'd just destroyed the only thing in my life that had ever felt real.

And I'd never even gotten to say goodbye.

17

SAMUEL

Icouldn't breathe.

The hallway walls pressed in, the air too thick, too heavy. My chest heaved with sobs I couldn't control, couldn't stop. Everything President Dalton had said echoed in my skull—serious sin, eternal consequences, your family, your future—and underneath it all, the question he'd asked three different ways.

Did Elder Vance pressure you? Manipulate you? Take advantage of your faith?

He'd offered me an exit. A clean narrative. The golden boy led astray by the faithless companion. I could almost hear how it would sound in my disciplinary council back home—He struggled with unwanted attractions, tried desperately to overcome them through faithful service, but his companion exploited his vulnerability.

I'd told President Dalton no. Told him the truth. That Eli hadn't forced me, hadn't coerced me, that I'd wantedeverything we'd done. That I'd gone to his bed that night and kissed him first.

President Dalton had written it all down with his careful, measured strokes. Then asked the questions again, differently.But he initiated the first physical contact, didn't he? He told you the Church was wrong about homosexuality? He encouraged you to act on your feelings?

And I'd said yes. Because those things were true. But not the way President Dalton meant them. Not as manipulation. As—aslove.