Page 24

~ SAM ~

Every time the guys came to my house there was always a moment that the reality of my new life smacked me between the eyes.

Years ago, if there’d been five felons in my house, we would have been in the active commission of a crime, or planning one.

But when my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I had to get up from the circle of chairs in my living room, I had a second of looking at these dudes—all tatted, fit, pierced, and with dark history.

Every single one sitting with his head bowed, face in his hands or eyes on the carpet, murmuring his agreement while another brother prayed.

And I was one of them.

It was stunning how different life looked from this side of everything that had happened. They all knew about my charges. They all knew what I’d been doing.

They’d had some choice words for me when they learned I’d eloped with Bridget, but we were past that now. So when I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw it was her calling—odd for her to do that in the middle of the afternoon—I left them there, praying together, and hurried outside .

“Babe, hi! You okay?” I whispered into the phone as I slipped out the back door to my yard that desperately needed to be mown. And weeded. And pruned…

“Hey,” she said and her voice was too high. Then she went quiet.

I waited, but she didn’t speak. My chest tightened. “Bridget?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on?”

“Not a lot, I just… I was thinking about you and wanting you and I wished you were here and I thought maybe if you weren’t busy we could turn the video on and make some baby jelly together.”

I blinked. And smiled. But before I could tell her what was going on in my house— not the time for phone sex—something about her tone made my instincts prickle.

Staying away from each other was killing both of us—especially her. I thought she’d gotten a little better in November. But now it was December and she seemed to be spiraling again.

And then it occurred to me why she’d never called during this meeting before. Because I scheduled it during her appointments with Gerald so we’d be busy at the same time.

“Bridget…” I said quietly.

“Turn your phone on so I can see you. Please?”

“I can’t right now. I mean—”

“What? Is your girlfriend there, ha ha?”

“Babe… no. I’ve got the guys here. They’re praying,” I sighed and pulled the phone away to turn on the video so she’d see me—the last thing she needed right now was to be worried about something like that. But she hadn’t turned on her camera yet, so it was just me staring at a blank screen. “Can you see me?”

“Yeah, I just—”

“Did you skip Gerald? Or leave early?”

She didn’t answer. And didn’t turn her video on either.

Shit. “Bridge—”

“I forgot about your guys. That’s nice. I’m glad they’re still coming over. No judgment, right?” she said. But her voice was too bright, and too tight .

“None,” I said staring at the camera so she’d see the worry on my face. “But I’m not worried about them. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. I’m just lonely, I guess,” she said in a voice so small my stomach physically ached. “I wanted to see you. But now I have. You should go back to the guys. And tell them I said hi. Isn’t that what church people do? Send love and prayers, or something? God bless you, and all that? Should I make them pillows? Grateful, thankful, and blessed? ”

“Bridget—”

“I’m teasing, Sam.”

“I know. But you’re hurting. I want to—”

“No, it’s fine. Gerald’s just worried, and that’s worse than when he’s pushing.”

“Worried about what, specifically?” I asked quickly. If it had stopped him nudging her about visiting her dad, it had to be bad, right?

“Nothing. Just the time of year. He thinks I’m going to do something stupid like I did last year…”

Christmas. But it was only the second week of December. She’d gotten better over Thanksgiving—she brightened up, and said all the raw turkey memes made her laugh.

“…But I’m not. It’s fine. Don’t worry. I forgot about your meeting. Give me a call later when they’re gone, okay?”

“I will. But—”

“It’s fine, Sam. I’m a big girl. I just… I don’t even know why I called. Just bored I guess.”

“You called because I love you, and I want to help you when you’re hurting. Are you—”

“I’m fine. I’ll talk to you when your things are done. Make sure you’re alone. I want to see you tonight, okay?”

Fine. Fine. She’s fine… Women rarely meant it when they used that word. Even I knew that.

I opened my mouth to argue with her—we were both a little guilty of using sex to soothe our feelings. But she’d already told me that she found the phone sex a little hollow. I’d had an idea about how we might be able to make it more personal. But I’d had to save up for the present and it wouldn’t arrive for another week…

“Bridget, I’m worried about you, babe. ”

“Don’t be. I’m going to watch a movie and eat popcorn. Call me later. Love you, bye!”

She was gone.

And I was the one freaking out.

I stood there for a second staring at the phone to make sure she really had hung up. It scared the shit out of me. She never dropped a call like that unless she was mad. And I didn’t think she was covering for anger.

Something else was going on.

I took a deep breath. When I walked back into the living room, the guys were still praying, but now I was shaky. I didn’t think I could sit still, so I stood, leaning in the doorway and joined them.

But my heart wasn’t in it. Not really.

My mind kept turning back to Bridget, wondering what Gerald must have said. So then I stopped trying to follow what the guys were praying about and just prayed for her.

God, don’t let her do anything dangerous.

Don’t let her give up on this.

Keep her safe.

…Make sure you’re alone. I want to see you tonight…

I swallowed hard. It had been weeks since I’d snuck to her house and she’d given me the letter. We’d talked about it a couple different times. But she was adamant that she didn’t want to see her dad, so I wasn’t pushing. And she never wanted to let me take the conversation any deeper. I didn’t know him well enough to know how much he’d changed in all those years.

I did know that Bridget twitched every time the conversation came up—even when she was the one to start it. So recently I’d been avoiding the topics of Christmas or her father completely. But I’d been putting out some feelers. Communicating with people. Figuring some shit out from her father’s side. I hadn’t told her because the time never seemed right.

But maybe that had been the wrong thing to do.

Maybe what she needed was to feel safe in the conversation, instead of avoiding it?

When my guys finished praying, I caught eyes with Monk.

He wasn’t an actual Monk. We called him that because he’d come to Jesus twenty years earlier and since then, he literally hadn’t had sex or drunk alcohol—which had been his poison of choice for the thirty years prior. Something none of the rest of us could fathom.

Monk looked up at me the second he opened his eyes. I flipped a discreet finger between my chest and his. I want to talk to you privately. He nodded, then turned to the others to say goodbye. Everyone had places to be.

When I’d said goodbye to them, and Monk had too, and they were all standing in the doorway or out in the driveway, catching up, he came to stand at my side, both of us watching the others.

“You okay?” he asked.

Monk was a burly, tattooed version of Samuel Jackson—including the voice. But he was a man of few words. I always joked that when he spoke up in the middle of a bible study, if you weren’t looking, it felt like God Himself was talking.

“I will be,” I said with a shrug, keeping my eyes on the others near the door. I didn’t want them to hear this.

“What’s going on? Was that Bridget on the phone?”

I nodded.

Monk grunted. “You want to talk about it?”

I sighed. “I do, but legally I can’t,” I said. I knew he wouldn’t push. We all tried to adhere to the law now. None of these guys would push me to share things that I shouldn’t. I was tempted to, anyway. Just because I knew they’d understand—they’d all been through charges and trials. But I also knew if I started talking, I wouldn’t stop. And that wasn’t why we got together on these afternoons.

Monk clamped a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be praying. Is there anything I can do?”

I took a deep breath and finally turned to meet his eyes. “Actually there is.”

His brows rose, but he smiled too. “Name it.”

“Could you do me a favor and give me a ride into the city? No questions asked?”

Monk tipped his head, his eyes searching mine. “Depends. Will you be doing something you might regret?”

I shook my head. “No. The opposite.”

“Then yes. Absolutely. We’ll stop for gas on the way. You have a way to get home? ”

I didn’t, but I also didn’t want him to worry about it. “I’ll be fine.”

He nodded and pulled his keys from his pocket and started for the door. But then he stopped and turned back to me. “What about… what about you drop me off at my place, then take my car. Would that help? You can bring it back when you’re done tonight. Or tomorrow. And I’ll bring you back here.”

I smiled and shook my head. “You’re a good friend, Monk.”

“The best if I’m trusting you with my car,” he snorted.

“God bless you, brother.”

“He already has, Sam. You know that.”

I did. Relief washed through me as I walked to my bedroom to grab some stuff. I was pretty sure Jeremy’s team had a tracker somewhere on my car. And maybe on my phone too, though I’d done everything I knew how to do to make sure it was clean.

Just in case, I left my phone at home, and grabbed the burner. She might not have hers on, but I could use it in an emergency without anyone knowing where I was.

Please, God, she needs me. Don’t let anyone figure out where I am…