Page 10

10

FAITH

O n Sunday after church, my friends and I join my family to eat brunch, as always, at Easton’s Eatery—our place.

“I just don’t understand why those boys always have to be instigating,” my dad huffs, taking a sip of his coffee. He’s never been shy about stating his opinion, even in front of my friends. “All of them! And in church, nonetheless. I was willing to just ignore him, but he had to start.”

“Honey, please,” my momma says. “Not while we’re eating.”

“We’re not eating yet,” my daddy points out. “We haven’t even gotten our bread yet.”

“You know what I mean. Not at the table. It’s Sunday, for goodness sake. The Lord’s day.”

A brick sits in my stomach.

I don’t know what got into Hunter Holloway at church this morning, or what exactly he said to my daddy, but whatever happened, this means war.

You don’t mess with my family and get away with it.

“He was such a prima donna when he came into the restaurant, he wouldn’t even speak when I walked up to his table,” I comment. “Shoot, I don’t think I’d know his voice if I heard him.”

“Is that right?” my mom sings.

“Yeah!” I say. “He had his cousin order, and ask questions for him. He didn’t say one word.”

“The trailer park kid gets a big contract and now he thinks he’s all that,” Daddy adds. “I tell you what…”

“Hey, y’all,” Aunt Miranda says, approaching our table. She’s managing the restaurant this morning. “Everything going good? Your food order is in, there’s not many other orders right now so it shouldn’t take too long.”

We’re sitting at a long table with all of my friends, who I think, quite honestly, just feel a little awkward with the way my daddy is ranting right now. They stayed up late last night drinking beers in the barn after we got back from that club, and they aren’t feeling too social at the moment, much less holy.

Aunty M has a seat close to my daddy.

“Miranda,” he observes. “Doesn’t it seem like it’s a little empty for brunch on a Sunday?”

She nods grimly. “Gotta be honest, Mitch. Everyone’s at Holloway’s Hideout. They love it there.”

My mom squints. “That’s a sports bar, though.”

“Yeah, but they have this awesome brunch menu…I don’t know what they’re doing in there, to be honest. Giving away money?”

The Eastons all give each other a knowing look. It’s the ‘we refuse to set foot in that restaurant, but we are damn curious what goes on in there’ face.

“Where is Pastor Bobbit?” Daddy says.

“That’s the guy who gave the sermon, right?” April chimes in, and we nod. “Isn’t that him walking by right now?”

We see Pastor Bobbit briskly walking on the sidewalk.

“Oh, he’s just coming in,” Daddy observes.

Except…he doesn’t come in.

He walks right by the door, crosses the corner, and heads…into Holloway’s Hideout.

Uh oh.

I can practically see the fumes coming out of the top my daddy’s head.

He takes a deep breath. “Let’s not talk about this on God’s day. So, what did y’all get up to last night?”

My stomach clenches. My friends and I all make eye contact.

Even though I’m obviously not going to tell my family what we did last night, it still doesn’t feel good lying.

“We went and did some karaoke in Greenville,” I say, and it makes nerves pop in my stomach. Greenville is the next town over, and no one would know if we were there or not there.

“That’s nice,” my momma says. “What did y’all sing?”

I let my friends take over the conversation from here, and luckily they seem to perk up as they sip their coffee.

“I sang some Toby Keith,” Maya says. “Beer for my horses.”

“You know Toby Keith? But you’re from Chicago,” my dad says.

“So?” Maya smiles, keeping the conversation going.

I sigh and look down at my phone, peeking at Thor’s message again.

Hey there. I needed to tell you I had the most amazing time talking to you. You have incredible eyes. They’re like little blue moons. I can’t stop thinking about how dilated they’d get if you…you know. Never mind, it’s Sunday morning. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts. I blame you. Luna.

The message is just the right combination of sweet and hot. It was definitely not what I was expecting to read while in church.

Since seeing that scene last night, an ache between my legs has been building. Hearing Thor’s deep voice saying those words inside my head definitely isn’t helping.

And as far as a response goes, my head spins with what to say. I don’t even know where to start. He’s not exactly asking me a question…

“Faith? Did you hear Aunt Miranda’s question?” my mom asks.

I put my phone down, face down and smile. “I’m sorry, what did you say, Aunty M?”

“I was saying, you’re so lucky to be getting married to such a nice man who is going to set you up for life. Or else you would have to be working Sunday afternoon shifts.”

“Honestly, I like working at the restaurant,” I say. “But I’m also getting a college degree, remember? Journalism.”

Aunt Miranda shakes her head. “Well, that’s sweet. But your future husband is going to make sure you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Sweetie, it’s a good thing for you. Plus, you’re so in love.”

“What if I want to work, though?”

“I’m just saying, just…Sweetie, it’s just a comment, okay?” Aunty M says.

I twist my ring on my finger and think about Thor’s texts waiting to be returned. I also think about the way Hunter bore his eyes into me earlier today at church. What on earth was that about ?

And last, I think about how Keith and my “relationship” is such a total stress point right now, I can’t for the life of me picture what our future could potentially look like.

“I’m sorry, I’m talking out of turn,” Aunt Miranda continues. “And hey, Larry said he was in love with me. I believed him! Now I’m working the Sunday shift at age fifty-five. Don’t marry for love, Faith. And all of you youngsters?—"

“Miranda, don’t you have a restaurant to serve?” Daddy interrupts.

Miranda is my daddy’s younger sister and they have a complicated relationship, to say the least. They care immensely about each other, but when you work at a restaurant with someone day in and day out, you tend to get in each other’s hair.

She gets up. “Not many people to serve today, anyway. Once we purchase that old library property, though, we’ll have that upstairs deck and we’ll surge back. We just have to last until Faith and Keith tie the knot. At which point, we’ll put the property in your name and the restaurant expansion to the river will be a done deal.”

“Right,” I say meekly. “Because that’s the most important thing.”

Something coils inside me as Aunt Miranda walks away. All of the sudden I’m wondering if Aunty M isn’t just making all these comments to persuade me into marrying Keith for business reasons.

“She’s talking crazy,” Daddy says. “Besides, you and Keith are in love.”

I clear my throat.

“Right?” Daddy says when I don’t respond.

I flip my phone over in my hand nervously, and nod, averting my gaze.

My friends try not to stare at me, but I can tell they’re listening for my response. After last night’s escape, they know the deal.

Luckily, the food arrives just then, saving me from having to say anything more.

“Of course she’s in love,” my mom says, smiling. “They’ve been together forever. Just a shame he had to spend the summer in D.C. He’s taking care of business, though. Like a man should.”

As my momma and daddy carry on, I feel April’s hand slide gently onto my knee beneath the table. A quiet gesture. One that says: I see you.

“Hey,” she whispers. “It’s okay, Faith. You could just tell your parents. If you’re honest with them… maybe they’ll understand.”

I shake my head. “You don’t know my parents. They don’t want the truth. They want the plan.”

April nods slowly. “Well, if you need to talk through any of it… I’m not going anywhere.”

She pauses. Then adds, just loud enough for me to hear:

“So… are you going to text him back?”

I shake my head again. She’s the only one I told about the message from Thor.

I didn't even want to say it out loud, but I had to tell someone.

“No idea,” I say quietly. “I just… don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“You should text him back. Just saying.”

* * *

We finish brunch and step outside, only to hear live music drifting from Holloway’s Hideout across the street.

“What’s that place?” DJ asks. He was at the far end of the table and apparently missed my dad’s entire rant.

“That’s my family’s number one competition,” I say.

“Really? Have you checked them out?”

“Nope. I’m an Easton—we’re not allowed in there.”

“Well should at least go see what makes it so popular,” DJ says.

He’s got a point. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Plus,” Grant adds, “if you go with our big group, you’ll blend in. Just scope it out.”

I narrow my eyes. Grant and DJ definitely have an agenda—they want to watch their old teammate Luke Rutledge pitch today. And they can just tell from the vibe of Holloway’s Hideout that it’s the type of place to have the game on.

Still, it could be fun.

I explain the plan to my dad, and he’s surprisingly chill about it.

“Enjoy watching the game. Just be sure to tell Hunter to go shove it if you see him.”

“Now, Mitch,” my momma scolds. “It’s the Lord’s day, for goodness’ sake.”

He just winks. “You know what to do, Faith.”

We say our goodbyes and head across the street.

The second we step inside Holloway’s Hideout, it’s obvious why people are talking. The place is packed. Big screens everywhere, each one tuned to something different—the Nationals game, the Women’s College World Series, golf, NASCAR, everything.

There’s a buzz in the air that Easton’s hasn’t had in a long time.

“Damn, I love this place!” Finn blurts.

DJ elbows him, and Finn backpedals. “I mean… uh, it’s all right.”

“It’s fine,” I laugh. “You can admit the competition’s doing something right. We’re here to take notes.”

We crowd around a standing table—no chairs, kind of warehouse-y, with a definite college vibe.

Our server, Daphne, bounces over wearing short shorts, an apron, and a blue V-neck that says Holloway’s Hideout .

Let’s just say… she’s not shy about her cleavage. I mentally file it away. Definitely not the look Aunt Miranda would approve of. I’d get written up if I even considered leaving an extra button undone.

The guys order craft brews. The girls go for mixed drinks.

“So,” Alex says, sipping from her long straw. Luke Combs blasts in the background. “Did you hear back from Thor yet?”

I nod, deciding to let the rest of them in on it. “He texted me… during church. Let’s just say it was...interesting.”

I pass the phone around.

“So what are you going to text him back?”

“Uh, nothing?—”

“If you say ‘because I’m engaged,’ I swear I’ll knock that drink out of your hand,” Maya warns.

I clutch my Long Island closer.

“What would I even say? ‘Hey, sounds great. I loved watching that girl get helicoptered with you last night. Want to get ice cream?’”

They all lose it laughing.

“Wait—what’s ‘helicoptered’ mean again?” Alex asks.

“It’s when they use a flogger in an X pattern,” I explain. “On the butt. Guy or girl. Did I just explain a sex term to you?”

Maya nods, mock-somber. “You’ve grown so much. I’m proud.”

I blush. “You’re not helping.”

April leans in. “Just be direct. Learn from my mistakes. Guys are dumb. Say what you want. I’m just gonna say it—Thor was the hottest guy there.” Then, after a moment, she adds, “Aside from our guys, of course.”

“Your guy isn’t even here,” I tease.

“True,” she laughs. “Anyway. Why wasn’t Thor the one doing the paddling? That other guy had a paunch. Thor looked like he could do laundry on his abs.”

I crack up. “So what, I just text him, ‘Hey, come over and paddle me?’ That’s subtle.”

Alex bites her lip. “Faith. It’s your Rumspringa. Get after it. ”

“I have an idea,” I say, handing Alex my phone.

I take my hair tie, wrap it around my wrists like cuffs, and let my hair fall in front of my face. I’m not about to send a full-face pic to a guy I just met.

“Okay, snap one.”

Maya slides my engagement ring off my finger without a word.

I check the photos. One catches just the edge of my grin and the shape of my chin through my hair. It’s sexy, but not too much.

I type out a message to go with the photo.

Luna: Having a fun Sunday with friends. What are you up to?

I hover my thumb over the send button, my heart beating a little too fast.

Then I send it.

I’m not expecting an immediate reply—but it comes.

Thor: I see you :) Looks like you love Holloway’s Hideout, too.

Luna: You see me… how?

Thor: I just might be there right now. Or maybe not ;)

I press a hand over my heart, feeling it thump like crazy.

I glance around the room, casually sliding my engagement ring into my purse.

There are at least a hundred people packed into the standing room area alone, and I don’t catch anyone watching me. Just a blur of hats and drinks and jersey shirts.

Until I do.

The only guy who meets my eyes is Hunter Holloway himself—leaning on the second-floor balcony like some kind of smug king surveying his kingdom.

I scowl. Rage starts simmering beneath my skin.

This man tripped Keith, ruined my shift, and then had the nerve to get into it with my father at church . Yeah, sure, he tipped me well that night—but with his contract? That was pocket change.

Now he’s just… staring at me. Like I’m part of the entertainment.

Personally, I’d love to slap that smirk right off his face.

Even if I did have a small, deeply regrettable crush on him once upon a time. His expression right now is all arrogance and charm, and it pisses me off.

I glance back down at my phone, hoping Thor might’ve sent another message. Nothing.

All I know about him is that he’s tall—like tall tall —with forearms that belong in a magazine ad and a voice that could melt steel. That chin beneath the mask? Obscenely hot. And familiar, somehow.

Then our server Daphne returns, smiling and holding a folded piece of white paper.

“Hey, you’re Faith, right?” she asks.

I blink. “How do you know that?”

She points up. “Mr. Holloway asked me to give this to you.”

I take the paper, unfold it, and blink again. “Is this… a job application?”

She nods. “He said you’re exactly the kind of person we love to hire. Said with your experience, you’d be a huge asset to the team.”

I clench my fist at my side and look back up at Hunter.

Seriously?

He’s trying to poach me? From my own family’s restaurant?

And he doesn’t even have the decency to come down and say it himself.

I hold the paper up, ready to tear it right in half and show him exactly how loyal I am.

I’m a Capulet.

He’s a Montague.

It’s that simple.

But before I rip, Daphne cuts in. “Before you do that… he also said I should mention how much a good server makes here.”

I pause. “…How much is that?”

“If you get one of the prime sections on a Thursday? Five hundred to a thousand a night.”

My jaw hits the floor. “You’re serious?”

She nods, grinning. “Last weekend, the Dallas Cowboys came through. You know Peyton O’Rourke?”

My jaw hits the floor again .

“Peyton O’Rourke. The Peyton O’Rourke. Super Bowl champ?”

“That’s the one. I waited on him. He tipped a thousand in cash. You never know who’s going to show up here.”

I glance down at the paper, then fold it neatly and slide it into my purse.

“Let me think about it,” I say. Too much money to ignore—especially after a year of surviving college on ramen.

I look up at the balcony, ready to give Hunter one last glare.

But he’s gone.

And as I scan the room, I realize—no one else here could possibly be Thor.

He was probably just messing with me.