Page 16

Story: The Feud

16

FAITH

I hang up the call, still breathless.

My body’s limp, soaked in sweat and post-orgasmic bliss, sprawled out on the grass behind the house like I just ran a marathon. My sundress is bunched up around my hips, and I’m definitely not wearing underwear anymore. I feel wrecked—in the best way possible.

But as the quiet settles over me, something else creeps in.

Shit.

What did I just do?

A slow wave of embarrassment and adrenaline washes over me. I press a hand to my flushed face and stare up at the dark sky between the trees.

I just had an orgasm on the phone. With a stranger. Outside. Behind my parents’ house .

What is wrong with me?

A few crickets chirp like they're judging me.

I let out a weak laugh, covering my eyes. “Shut up,” I whisper. “Don’t look at me like that.”

And Thor. God. That voice. That filthy, gentle, addictive voice. I ache just thinking about the things he said to me. The things he made me feel —and with only words.

I’ve never been talked to like that before. Not once. Not even close.

Keith never talked dirty. He barely talked about sex at all unless it was to schedule it. But Thor? Thor knows how to get in my head. In my body. In my bones.

Still… I don’t even know what he looks like.

Who is this man?

And why do I feel closer to him than I ever did to my almost-fiancé?

I sit up slowly, brushing twigs and leaves off my legs, tugging my dress back down. My thighs are still trembling. I stare out into the woods, chewing my lip.

I’m a good girl. A Southern girl. A pastor’s daughter. I shouldn’t be doing this.

…Right?

Then again—maybe being good is what got me stuck in a relationship where I wasn’t truly seen. Where I was expected to smile pretty and plan the wedding and never, ever ask for more.

More of what, though?

Of this. Of him. Of me.

I pull out my phone again, staring at Thor’s last message.

You’re my naughty goddess.

Something stirs in my chest. Something dangerous.

I shouldn’t want to see him again.

But I do.

I want to know what color his eyes are. What his lips look like when he says my name. What that smile sounds like when it’s not filtered through phone lines and fantasy.

I stand slowly and tiptoe back into the house.

I’ll shower off the dirt and sweat and sin from tonight.

But I already know—there’s no washing him off me.

Not now.

Not ever.

* * *

The week rolls by, and now I have two things that keep me going:

Chatting with Thor in the afternoons… and shadowing Daphne at night at the restaurant.

A few times during the week, I try to tell Daddy about Keith and me—how we’re on a “break.” But every time, he manages to derail the conversation with something heavier: Aunt Miranda’s stress, the bank paperwork, the expansion.

And I let it go, because I’m distracted.

Distracted by Thor.

Our chats have become a daily routine. We don’t always start with sexy talk, but somehow we end up there.

It’s the best kind of seduction—the slow burn mixed with unexpected sweetness.

He wants to know me. Not just undress me.

But the attraction?

It’s combustible.

A kind of pull I’ve never experienced before.

The wildest part? I still haven’t seen his face.

Not once.

* * *

On Sunday, late at night, I’m curled on the couch studying our beer list, trying to memorize the difference between a saison and a sour, when I hear the unmistakable sound of Daddy’s boots thudding down the stairs.

I glance up—and freeze.

He’s holding a shotgun.

“Daddy?” I say. “Is everything okay?”

He exhales through his nose and rubs his eyes. “Thought I heard something rustling outside. And when I saw you weren’t in your bed…” His voice trails off as he walks into the living room and places the shotgun on the mantle.

His eyes catch on something.

The ring.

I left it there earlier tonight without thinking.

He picks it up, examines it, then looks at me.

“Why aren’t you wearing this?”

My heart goes full hummingbird.

I swallow.

This is it.

I remind myself: no more lies.

If I don’t say it now, I never will.

“I thought I mentioned this already,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Keith and I…we’re broken up.”

He blinks. Then again. His jaw slackens.

“Come again?”

I look back down at my beer notes. “Keith and I are broken up.”

“You haven’t mentioned this at all.” His voice tightens. “When did this happen?”

“When he decided to go to Washington D.C. and stop answering my texts and calls.”

A silence falls between us. I see the picture of the two of us on the mantel and look away quickly.

“This… is big news,” Daddy says, his tone turning hard. “And no, you most certainly did not tell me. Neither did Keith.”

“I’ll be okay,” I say gently. “Honestly? I think it’s for the best.”

He stares at me, baffled. “Faith… what? No. A relationship like y’all have isn’t something you just back out of. Marriage is hard work. It’s not always supposed to be easy.”

“I know that. But I wasn’t the one who walked away, Daddy.”

“I’m calling Mr. Stinson first thing tomorrow.”

“Please, don’t.”

His voice sharpens. “Faith Abigail. We’re in bad shape. Preaching has never paid the bills and you know that. If we don’t pull through with that restaurant expansion?—”

“Really? The restaurant is your number one concern right now? Not your daughter ?”

That lands. He stiffens.

“This is just… a shock,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

He studies me. “Yeah. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Then turns to go up the stairs.

“I love you, Daddy,” I say softly.

He pauses on the first step. “Yeah. I love you too.”

As his footsteps fade, I exhale for what feels like the first time all night.

This is why I kept putting it off. Because I knew how he’d react.

But it had to be said.

And maybe it’s the late hour.

Or maybe it’s that I spent two hours texting Thor earlier, laughing and teasing and saying things I’d never say to anyone else.

Whatever it is—I feel free.

I open my messages and scroll to Keith’s number.

He still hasn’t responded to anything. But the messages are marked as delivered.

Faith: Just so you know, we’re officially over. This wasn’t easy at first, but every day you don’t reach out, it gets easier. Hope you’re enjoying D.C.

I hit send.

I walk up to my room, but it no longer feels like mine.

The pink walls. The old photos of me and Keith.

It all feels like a costume I’ve outgrown.

Just as I’m drifting off to sleep, my phone buzzes.

Thor: Come by the black semi that says Southern Transport tomorrow at 10 p.m. It’s seriously V.I.P. with the attached bedroom.

My heart jolts.

Luna: Are you for real? A V.I.P. truck? My dream come true! Are you sure you’re not a serial killer? This sounds like every episode of a true crime podcast.

Thor: I’m not done with you.

My thighs clench involuntarily.

Luna: I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing to this… and excited. FYI: I’ll be sharing my location with friends in case I get chopped up.

Thor: You’re the one killing me right now.

I hesitate… then type out the truth, maybe for the first time.

Luna: Okay, fine. You want to know the real reason I’m saying yes? I’ve had this weird secret fantasy for years—being with a man who keeps his mask on. Like, total anonymity. No face, just… touch. Control. Heat. I’ve never told anyone that before.

There’s a long pause on his end. Then:

Thor: Fuck. Luna. You have no idea what that’s doing to me right now. You… want me to wear a mask? I thought you wanted to see my face.

Luna: Maybe… both? I don’t know if I’ll ever get this kind of chance again.

Thor: What kind of chance?

Luna: To be with a man I trust, who looks amazing in a mask, and who makes me feel things I’ve never felt… even without showing his face.

There’s a pause.

Then my screen lights up with a photo.

He’s lying back in bed. Just his abs, his briefs, and that mask. Nothing else.

Good Lord.

Faith: Jesus.

Faith: And how exactly am I supposed to find this truck?

Thor: I’ll drop you a pin. Big open field. You’ll see the truck. You’ll know it’s me.

Faith: A random pin in the middle of nowhere? That doesn’t sound shady at all.

Faith: Am I finally going to see your face?

Thor: Maybe. But I am going to make every one of your fantasies come true.

Faith: Not sure what you have in mind...but I’m open.

I turn off my lamp, phone pressed to my chest, my heart still racing.

For once, my future isn’t written out in a church bulletin.

It’s in a truck.

In a field.

And for the first time in my life...

I’m ready to drive toward it.