Page 36

Thirty-Four

Jensen

I saac smiles on the screen, large dimples indented on his cheeks while the audience laughs at whatever adorable thing he just said.

The camera loves him. In a tight flannel shirt around a snug white T-shirt, he looks like such an all-American country boy. With the worn-out cowboy hat and boots too, of course.

The audience adores him too. They laugh at everything that comes out of his mouth, and I swear he’s leaning on the chair like that on purpose because he knows just how hot it makes him look.

The host pulls out a picture from Isaac’s last show, and the audience screeches like a pack of horny hyenas. It’s a photo of him onstage in nothing but a pair of holey jeans. Suddenly, Isaac is blushing and hiding his smile like a fool.

I laugh out loud from my couch as I watch him. My phone is in my hand and I can’t wait to text him when this interview is over. He’s a natural, but there’s a subtle possessive part of me that gets a little turned on by how much everyone swoons over him.

You can lust after him all you want, but he’s mine.

“So, did you forget your shirt?” the host asks, making the audience laugh.

Isaac grins harder. “Yeah, I did. I couldn’t seem to find it backstage, and you know what they say…the show must go on.”

They laugh again.

The host avoids any questions about Isaac’s personal dating life, as they agreed to before the show. His publicist has a very thorough plan that involves using this interview to guide the conversation toward Isaac’s overall swoon factor rather than focus on his sexuality.

Isaac clearly hasn’t told her it’s only a matter of time before he’ll come out on his own, anyway.

The host asks Isaac something about his songs, and the conversation settles down for a moment. Not so much blushing and grinning. But when Isaac gets to truly talk about songwriting and music, he turns into a different person. He’s passionate and brilliant, and I swear I fall more and more in love with him the longer he speaks.

Unexpectedly, my doorbell rings. I glance down at my watch to see it’s past nine. I’m not expecting any visitors, so I consider ignoring it. I don’t want to miss Isaac’s interview, but I guess that’s the beauty of modern technology. I can rewatch it online as much as I want.

With a groan, I get up from the couch and walk to the front door. It must be my mom or dad. Or maybe one of Isaac’s brothers to talk about dinner the other night.

I pull open the door, and the blood immediately drains from my face.

“Hi, Jensen. Sorry to just show up unannounced, but you don’t answer my calls or emails.”

“Derek,” I mutter. My stomach coils immediately with a sick, cramping sensation.

Pastor Derek has changed a lot over the years. Back when I was still a teenager, he was younger than I am now. After twenty-plus years, he’s aged with salt-and-pepper hair, a few extra pounds on his slender frame, and heavy bags under his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to remain casual.

“Just checking up on you, of course. We haven’t spoken in…it seems like forever. What’s it been…four years?”

My stomach cramps turn to nausea. Four years. That’s how long ago I attended an Eternal Harmony conference. Call it a relapse, but I was in my mid-thirties, going through either a mid-life crisis or, I don’t know…an identity crisis. My sexual escapades had turned promiscuous, and I felt like I was going down a lonely, dark path.

They reached out, and for the first time in nearly ten years, I answered.

I’ve regretted it ever since. And I haven’t told a soul.

If Isaac found out…

“Well, aren’t you going to let me in?” he asks with that charismatic smile.

The voices in my head drown out my own thoughts. Somewhere in there is a voice telling me to shut the door in his face and tell him to never call again. But old habits die hard and I was never the kind of man who would do that to a pastor, a friend .

Not a friend, Jensen. Not a friend.

“Of course,” I mutter under my breath as I step aside. Derek enters my home, and my skin buzzes with anxiety. He’s just here for a little chat. We’ll catch up and then he’ll leave, and everything will go back to normal.

When Derek enters my living room, Isaac is still on the TV, talking about his music before smiling at the audience. It makes my heart lurch in my chest.

I wish he were here so I could hold him.

I wish I were a different man for him.

Derek smiles at the TV before giving me a knowing glance. “I’m a big fan of this guy. According to the media lately, so are you.” He takes a seat on my couch, in the exact spot I just sat, so I hover nearby and force myself to act normal.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask, without looking him in the eye.

“That depends,” he asks. “Are we behaving ourselves tonight?”

Bile rises in my throat. “Derek, I?—”

He laughs. “That was a joke, Jensen. Relax. Water is fine.”

With a shaky breath, I go to my kitchen and pour two glasses of water. Taking them back out, I notice the show has gone to a commercial break, so I hand a glass to Derek and take a seat on the opposite sofa, as far from him as I can get.

“So, how’ve you been?” he asks, staring at me with intensity.

“Fine,” I say, looking at the opposite wall instead of at him. “I’m preaching at Redemption Point now.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. That’s incredible. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

We make small talk for a bit. He mostly talks about his work with the program and how much they’ve accomplished. I feel sick.

“And what about your initiative?” he asks, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. My initiative is the plan Eternal Harmony assigned each of us. Our job was to identify our triggers, the temptations in our lives that caused us to stray from the path. Then we had a prescribed course of actions to take to help deny and resist those temptations.

I am a forty-year-old man. I haven’t had an initiative since I was twenty-five, so why can’t I just say that to him now? Why do I suddenly feel like an unruly teenager who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar?

“I said I’m fine,” I mutter without looking at him.

“Good,” he replies with a head nod. Then he shifts seats, bringing him closer to me, and I stiffen. “Jensen, I’m only here out of concern. When I saw the photos online, I reached out to your mother and she told me where I’d find you. I’ve heard the rumors like everyone else. It breaks my heart to see someone fall from their path of righteousness. I know temptations can be mighty and hard to resist, but it’s your soul I worry about. Your eternal peace.”

He lays a hand on my leg, and I freeze.

He’s so full of shit. His words never match his actions, but his ability to manipulate my mind is some sort of sick talent.

“I’m here because I care. You know that, right?”

Lifting my gaze, I meet his eyes for the first time tonight. Instantly, I’m shrunk down to nothing but an inferior being. I’m a child. A fiend. A sinner.

Because I know he wants me to be compliant, I nod.

“Your actions have great significance, not only on you but on him, too.” He nods toward the TV, where Isaac is now performing with the band. He’s so far away from me, not just in distance but in thought too.

In just a few intense moments, Derek has made Isaac feel like a distant memory to me. Someone from another life.

“We’re friends,” I stammer unconvincingly.

Derek just ignores me. “You have an opportunity here, Jensen. Let me help you.”

His hand squeezes my knee, and I tremble deep in my bones. I pray he can’t feel it. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a public figure now, Jensen. People know your affiliation with Eternal Harmony. If we just…make a statement. Show your support. Don’t let down these kids.”

My stomach turns, and I nearly vomit. Before the sickness catches up with me, I stand from the couch and pace away from him.

“No. I have no…affiliation,” I stammer.

“Your church has donated to our cause, Jensen. You did that.”

“No.”

“Does he know that?”

“You should leave. I can’t…I can’t do this,” I argue, but my mind is a mess. Thoughts swirl and nothing catches. I can’t seem to find the things I need to say. The things I want to say to him. It’s all lost in noise and voices.

“If people find out about him with you , of all people, Jensen, it will ruin his career. You think the scandal is bad now? Imagine how much worse it could be. A heartthrob country musician and a conversion therapy counselor?”

“I was just a kid!” I shout, fire brewing in my bloodstream. “You…you made me…”

“A kid? Were you a kid four years ago? Were you a kid in your twenties? Don’t blame me for the choices you made.”

“Fuck you, Derek,” I grit out with my fists clenched tight at my sides. “You fucked my head up, and I won’t support you fucking up more kids like me.”

I expect him to back down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he barrels toward me and shoves me hard against the wall. “If the media catches wind of your past, it will be at the expense of everything I’ve built. They won’t just tear you apart, I have a reputation to uphold, you motherfucker.”

I shove him away from me. “You think I give a shit about your reputation? You can’t hurt me anymore.”

“Think so, Jensen? You don’t think I can go to the media. Tell them what you did to all those kids in the program?”

My brow furrows as I glare at him with rage. “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t hurt anyone, you sick fuck.”

“Didn’t you?” he says, his voice like poison. “Didn’t you touch them? You tempted them. Made those boys do all kinds of perverted things.”

My blood runs cold. “That was you ,” I whisper in disbelief. Even saying such disgusting things out loud to him makes me sick. “That was you ! You did all that shit to me !”

He closes in, and I feel like a kid again. He’s just an old man in his fifties now, but it takes one look, one repulsive memory to turn me into a shaking, scared teenager again.

“What good times we had, Jensen. From what I remember, you were the easiest one, too. What a desperate little slut you were.”

Rage bubbles up in me like boiling water. My fist flies, connecting hard with his face, and he stumbles across my living room, hitting the TV where Isaac once played. The television goes black, and I have to talk myself down from hitting him again. I’m afraid if I start, I won’t stop.

“Get out of my house,” I growl angrily.

He takes his time standing up, holding his nose as it gushes blood down his shirt and onto my floor.

“You think I can’t hurt you, Jensen?” he asks with blood all over his hands. “I don’t need to. You’re ruining your own life. And his. I’m just here to make sure you don’t take us down with you. Because it’s clear you only care about yourself. You always did.”

“I said get out.” My nostrils are flaring, and I can only stare at him and force myself to breathe.

Then he looks up at me, and I am pierced with the intensity of his condemnation. “God doesn’t love men like you, Jensen. You don’t deserve that congregation. You had a chance to live a good life, but you were too weak. Always were too fucking weak. Now, you’ll drag that boy down with you.”

He turns his back and walks to the front door of my house. I’m shaking so hard, one gust of wind could blow me over.

“Go to hell, Derek,” I mutter.

“Only one of us is destined for hell, Jensen. Just be sure you don’t take anyone else with you.”

When he disappears through the front door, I reach for the nearest thing, which is the glass of water I had given him only fifteen minutes ago. It flies with force from my hand to the front door, crashing and sending glass and water everywhere.

My heart is pounding so fast I have to pull air into my lungs, one large breath at a time. There’s a tremble in my hands that is so violent they tingle and feel numb.

Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath.

I struggle in vain, trying to calm my body and my mind, but it’s futile. The voices are back and louder than ever. Suddenly, I’m a teenager again, scared and alone and stupid.

“God doesn’t love men like you, Jensen.”

I’m no man. I’m a fraud. A liar. I’ve tricked everyone into believing in me, including Isaac. I’ve manipulated him into trusting that I could be different. That I could be with him. That I could be righteous. That I could be anything at all.

I’ve conned him into loving me.

I’m as bad as Derek.

It’s like I’m standing between two land masses being ripped apart, and when I can’t seem to grasp onto either side, my nails digging desperately into the surface, trying to keep my feet on the ground, I fail and plummet into the depths.

Where I belong.

All I can do is let out a deafening, roaring cry of anger.

Everything hurts. And I’m not sure I’m ever going to crawl back out of the darkness again.