Page 94 of Preacher Man

And made her fall in love with his kindness.

She loved few but she loved hard.

Preacher was amongst them now.

Ruby was gone from the motel room an hour later. It was as if she’d never been there with her soul bared wide open at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“Confessions aren't as bad as you think once they're out in the open." – Ruby

She’d fucking taken off.

A chicken shit move waiting until he drifted off to sleep, the drug of sex dragging him under against his will, body worn, brain dead, he'd gone without a protest, and she’d grabbed her bag and sneaked out.

Preacher was disappointed and fuming.

His jaw hardened. Honed and sharp as a razorblade he slid into his jeans, shoved his feet into the boots and tried to rein in his mood. There was no point in being pissed off. Not after he’d seen her phone and bag was gone from the table and all her girl products off the bathroom counter.

Had she even looked back at him asleep before she’d ran? Felt a flicker of guilt leaving him there? Did she even waver? So much for him thinking they had something. Dumb fuck.

It took a good five minutes before he could center himself. Another ten minutes he’d walked to the all-night diner down the street to pick up a coffee and a bagel. Another fifteen minutes he was back in the motel room that smelled like them, like her.

Only when caffeine and food were in his system, only when he felt able enough to not say nasty shit did he fish out his cell phone to call his little runaway tiny dancer.

Only his phone was already illuminated with a wall of notifications. A whole row that went on and on and on.

All of them from Ruby.

Pulling up their text thread, he plonked down on the side of the bed, took a last gulp of the coffee before crumpling the cream cardboard cup, launching it into the trash can by the TV.

Let’s see what you have to say, beautiful.

The endless list of messages went as far back as two hours ago. So almost from when she must have stepped out of their room.

He started at the beginning.

R: 8:12- I’m sorry, Preacher.

R: 8:12 - I had a great time. Really, I did. Maybe not the bike ride. I’m catching a bus home. I think it's for the best, not just because I don't think my legs can take more of your bike.

R: 8:13 - You’ll think I’m being a coward. I am. I'm sorry.

R: 8:14 - My life is screwy. So here it is. You wanted to know.

R: 8:14 - Seb is the most gorgeous thing I have in my life.

It was fortunate her next text was right after that one or Preacher’s head would have exploded all over that fucking motel room had he been made to wait for the next message. His brows pinched and he kept on scrolling.

R: 8:14- He’s four and my sister’s son.

A nephew? Why the hell couldn’t she just tell him that? He was more confused that he had been.

R: 8:15-As I said. Screwed up life. I didn’t want you to know any of it, you already took care of my car, which you still haven’t billed me for btw.

Not going to either, baby.

R: 8:16- My dad is in jail, too long of a list to go into, but he's how I know about the biker lifestyle. I have a brother and a sister. I’m the middle kid, boring me, right? My brother is mostly absent, we stay in our own corners, we were close once, but life, you know? My sister is unrealistic, spoiled, entitled and I take care of her because she is unwilling to become an adult and take care of her child. I had Seb for the first ten months of his life, she didn't want him at all.