Slowly she lowers herself onto the pew in front of me, like she’s made of glass. The old wood creaks under her weight, a small, fragile sound, that’s swallowed by the hush of the church.
Her hand lifts to her cheek, brushing lightly over the bruise. Like she’s checking if it’s still there.
It is.
I can see the shape of his hand in it. Every fucking finger. A red-purple bloom rising, staining skin that should never have known violence.
My jaw clenches.
She doesn’t look at me. Just stares ahead like she’s trying to keep from splintering apart right here in front of me.
I should say something. Anything. But what the hell do I lead with? Sorry you’ve got a rock’em sock’em dad, I’ve got one too…
She saves me from myself.
“So…” Her voice is quiet. Careful. “Why were you in the tunnels?”
Oh, you know, was just looking for a quiet place to beat my meat, when suddenly Casper jumped up with a raging hard on, and shit got real, real quick…
I ease down beside her—not too close. Close enough to share the silence, not enough to make her flinch. My hands hang between my knees. I breathe out, half laugh, half sigh.
“Honestly?” I glance at her. “My best friend.”
That gets a flicker of curiosity.
“She’s been going through some heavy shit lately. Wanted to blow off steam. Her idea of fun is... questionable. Some might say tormenting. Anyway, I tagged along.”
A corner of my mouth kicks up. “She thinksI’mthe crazy one.”
Sera shifts beside me. Not relaxed. But not retreating either. “Did you just leave her there?” she asks, a little sharper now. “Alone?”
“No,” I say quickly. “God, no. She’s with her boyfriend—Logan—and the rest of the guys. Sam and Chace. She's safe. Safer than safe.”
Unlike you.
I don’t say it, but it claws at my throat. I can still see it—her father’s hand striking her like it was second nature. Like she’shad that hit coming her whole life. And the worst part? She didn’t even flinch. She justtookit.
I drag a hand down my face, trying to breathe through the heat flooding my chest.
“I just… needed air,” I admit. “Thought I was losing it. Honestly, pretty sure I need an exorcism.”
A quiet laugh escapes her lips. It slips into the room like sunlight through a crack.
Even bruised, even broken… she laughs.
But it hurts her. I see the way she stiffens, how her fingers rise back to her cheek like maybe she can press the pain back in.
Rage coils in my gut like barbed wire.
He did that. Without shame. Without hesitation.
Arson’s bad, sure… but if it’s a church, is it an act of God?
No. Probably not.
Note to self: Safe search later. Or ask Chace—he’s weirdly good with that kind of shit. Definitely not Logan. Too goody-goody. He’d go loco. Probably pop-a-padre, too, with his hunk hands.
I curl my fists to keep them steady.
