Page 25

Twenty-Four

Jensen

T he bell chimes over the door of the café while I watch in horror as the pink-haired woman sitting across from me douses her scrambled eggs in ketchup. The man at her side feeds a small bite of scrambled eggs to the adorable baby in the high chair at the end of the table. She claps her hands with a gummy smile as she chews.

As for me, I’m tensely holding my coffee cup, waiting for the eldest Goode brother to officially let me in on why I’m sitting here in the first place.

I know very little about the Goode family, but I do know a few things for certain after talking to Isaac.

For one, the only brother Isaac has had substantial contact with since he ran away is Lucas, the brother I met last week. That means, and I’m assuming here, that no one else in the family knows that he and I are dating.

And second, everyone in the Goode family has a personal vendetta against Truett Goode. All the more reason for this breakfast to be a little tense.

Finally, after Adam’s breakfast is eaten, he sits back in his seat and stares at me with his arms crossed.

“I’ve given thought to your offer,” he says with hesitation.

My offer feels like a conversation we had two years ago, not two months ago. Things have gotten a good deal more complicated since I last had breakfast with Adam. He just doesn’t know it yet.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now that my father was released early.”

I nod, glancing back and forth between Adam and his wife, Sage. I haven’t told Isaac yet about Truett’s visit to my church because I don’t want to stress him out, which means I’m certainly not going to tell his brother.

“I have,” I reply.

“Mr. Miles, I just want to know that you’re on our side. I know we haven’t been exactly warm with each other, but I can’t bear the thought of Truett ending up back at that pulpit.”

Suddenly, I’m upright with my elbows on the table. “He is not coming for my job. That is my congregation.”

Sage smirks at me. “I like you.”

“Is that what you think? That we’re going to let him back in just because he’s out of prison?”

“I’ve seen worse,” Adam replies with narrowed eyes.

“So have I,” I reply. “But I can assure you, I have your side on this.”

Forcing myself to calm down before I let anything slip, I lean back in the booth and let out a sigh. He has no idea just why I am so loyal to the Goode brothers instead of the patriarch. And it has nothing to do with him or the church and everything to do with the man I love.

“Adam, I know you think I’m cut from the same cloth as Truett, but I promise you, I’m not. I care about my congregation. I care about their faith and this community. I’m not here to pat another man’s back in order to put me in a place of power. I am in that position at Redemption Point for a reason. Truett can try to take it from me, but I won’t give it up without a fight.”

Adam regards me from across the table. In the middle of our stare down, the baby in the high chair starts squealing impatiently, so he turns toward her with another bite of his breakfast on his fork. As he feeds it to her, there is a sudden softness apparent in him.

I see the dichotomy of fatherhood in one subtle flash of a moment. Softness and ferocity in the blink of an eye. The willingness to be present and vulnerable one moment while also protective and impenetrable the next.

“You’ve changed, Jensen,” Adam says, looking up from his daughter. “Something happened to you since we met last.”

You could say that.

“Maybe so,” I reply. “But this will never change for me. I want to be good at my job. I don’t need to be revered or remembered. I just want to make a difference. And I don’t need Truett Goode to do it.”

Sage is smiling brightly over her coffee cup now. “I like you a lot.”

“Easy,” Adam grumbles, making me snicker to myself.

“I’m relieved,” Adam says as he hands the baby a small cup with handles that she clumsily drinks out of. “I hope you understand that I can’t make an appearance at your church right now. It’s just not the time. And without getting into our family drama too much, I just can’t betray my brothers like that. Either we all come together, or we don’t come at all.”

Staring at Adam across the table, I think about Isaac. There’s an opaque layer of sadness behind Adam’s eyes when he says that, and I wonder how it must feel for him to miss out on so much of Isaac’s life.

Isaac has mentioned how rough it’s been for them to be without contact. I’ve supported his decision to stay without that contact, but now that I’m sitting across from Adam, I wonder if the pain for his brother is worse than Isaac realizes.

I see the resemblance between the two, more so than any of the other brothers. The same almond eyes. The same parentheses when they smile. Same sharp cheekbones and strong jawline.

It makes my heart ache with missing Isaac.

“I understand,” I say softly.

Just then, the baby squeals again. She launches her cup at me, and I catch it before it topples to the floor.

“Shit, sorry.” Sage laughs, but I just shake my head.

“Don’t be sorry. She’s adorable.” Grinning, I hand the cup back to the baby. “What’s her name?”

“Faith,” Adam replies, looking like a proud dad.

Just then, Faith latches her tiny hand around my pinkie finger and brings it to her mouth. I laugh as she bites on it like some harmless little predator.

“She’s teething,” Sage says as she hands Faith a soft toy. “Careful, you could lose a finger.” When she releases my hand, I wipe it on my napkin with a laugh.

Isaac is missing this. He should be here, sitting next to me. He’d adore every minute of this, playing with Faith, eating with his family. I told him once that I’d help him come home to his family and the one time we tried, I bailed on him. It wasn’t fair, even if I was blindsided.

But I won’t fail him again. If he’s ready to come home, I will be here to help him.

“Do you want kids someday, Jensen?” Sage asks as she rests her chin on her open hand. She’s a cute little thing. Pink hair, tattoos, and piercings. She looks nothing like the woman I normally see attached to men like Adam, and I like her even more for that.

“I…never thought about it,” I mumble in response. It might sound odd, but it’s the truth. I’ve spent the whole of my adulthood trying to live two different lives, avoiding relationships and running from my sexuality. I never once gave a second thought to starting a family. I was just trying to survive.

But now…I have someone I could imagine raising a child with. I could see Isaac as a father. I could see us five or ten years down the road with a life like this, eating breakfast together, cleaning up after a messy and chaotic toddler, building something greater than ourselves.

But that nagging voice in my head shreds the vision to pieces before I have a moment to grasp it. Those hardwired mantras placed there over twenty years ago still have the ability to destroy any semblance of peace in my life.

Because I’m a sinner. I’m broken and unworthy. And wishing for anything more is futile.

Faith smiles up at me bashfully before banging her tiny cup against the table.

“Choosing not to have kids is totally valid,” Sage says with a sympathetic expression. Then, she leans over and strokes the baby’s soft black hair. “But as someone who honestly never saw it in the cards for myself, I have to say that it is kind of amazing. Having her sort of puts everything into perspective, you know? Like…all the things we used to worry about don’t matter as much as we thought they did.”

Adam kisses the side of Sage’s head. He looks so content and at peace. I envy him for that. He and Sage might be opposites and look like an odd couple, but they’ll never know the struggle that people like me and Isaac have.

Their daughter won’t be subjected to cruel stares and harsh words. She won’t see posters and signs from protesters and wonder if her parents are going to hell or are hated by God. They don’t have to worry about the government stripping away their right to be a family.

Obviously, Sage and Adam have no clue about my sexuality or about me at all. But I’m willing to bet Sage doesn’t realize that the things she has to worry about and the things I have to worry about are very different.

I don’t respond as I sit back in my seat, lost in thought.

“I have to tell you something,” I say in the car on my way home from breakfast with Adam.

“I’m listening,” Isaac replies sleepily. His voice plays in the speaker of my car through the Bluetooth connection. I can’t see him, but I imagine him lying in his plush hotel bed with his messy bedhead and those puffy circles he has under his eyes when he first wakes up.

“I had breakfast with your brother,” I say bluntly. I don’t want any more secrets between me and Isaac, and I’m aware that I’m not always the most forthcoming with information. I like to hold things close to my chest. Call it an old habit with a side of self-preservation.

“I have three. You’ll have to be more specific,” Isaac mumbles.

“Adam.”

I hear the ruffling of the sheets, and I imagine Isaac has just bolted upright in response.

“Why? You didn’t talk about me…”

“No, of course not. He has no idea about us,” I reply.

“And Lucas isn’t going to tell him,” he says. “So, let me guess…this meeting was church-related, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Does he hate you?” he asks with humor in his voice.

“You mean he doesn’t hate everyone?” I ask, matching his tone.

“Not that I remember,” Isaac replies. “But I bet he’s got a very bitter spot for anything related to that church after what our dad did.”

“No, I don’t think he hates me. In fact, today was the second time we met, and I think he’s actually warming up to me,” I say as I turn into my neighborhood.

“This must be really weird for you,” Isaac replies with a loud breath. “The church connection and the secret boyfriend connection.”

“It is, but it had me thinking,” I say. Pensively, I chew on my lip before continuing. “I know the meeting with Luke was a disaster, but why don’t we try again? Why don’t we just…tell them?”

Isaac doesn’t reply. He lets out a disgruntled sound. When I don’t get my reply, I go on.

“With your father out of prison, I think solidarity right now is going to be the smart choice. Show him that you are all strong without him. He’s not a threat to you anymore, Isaac. And it’s time you took back your family. With me by your side, of course.”

Still, silence.

“Isaac…”

“I’m thinking,” he replies, sounding a little more awake now. “Aren’t you worried about the public finding out?”

“I trust your family’s discretion. They wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“And if Truett finds out?”

“He won’t,” I reply astutely. I pull my car into my driveway and put it into park. Sitting in the front seat, I stare numbly ahead, waiting for Isaac’s response.

“Listen,” I say. “I’m not pressuring you into this, but I’m only trying to convince you because I know you’re ready, and I know it’s what you want. And I think that if we’re going to do this, we tell them everything all at once. The truth about you and Lucas. The truth about you and me. The truth about me and the church. All of it.”

“Jesus,” he mumbles to himself. “I’ll need alcohol for this.”

With a wince, I let out a sigh. Isaac’s natural reflex to reach for a drink hasn’t gotten past me. It’s not something we need to battle at the moment, though. We have enough hills to climb.

“Think about it,” I say. “And I’m sorry if this is too much pressure, but…Adam brought his daughter to the meeting.”

“Oh come on,” Isaac replies with a groan. “Now I’m really jealous.”

A smile stretches across my face. “She was pretty damn cute.”

“You don’t play fair.”

“She threw a cup at me and tried to bite my finger off.”

“She sounds feisty. I love her already,” he says with a sigh.

“I just…don’t want to see you miss out on time with your family when I could help you get that back.”

“You’re too good to me,” he replies sweetly, and I lift my hand to my mouth so my neighbors don’t come outside and find me grinning like a fool in my driveway.

“You’ll see just how good in a couple more days.”

“You tease,” he replies with a groan.

This is that moment again when the call comes to an end and those three little words are on the tip of my tongue. I’m dying to say them. But I refuse to do it over the phone.

Three more days, and he’s all mine.