The lights, which we’d intentionally picked out warm golden bulbs for, now felt too bright. The potluck table was too quiet, like everyone thought maybe the Remnant had come in and poisoned all the food.
Yeah…it was bad.
And it seemed not a single one of my closest friends could handle it.
Delilah stood near the back wall, arms folded so tight her knuckles had gone white. Silas was beside me, still as stone, but I could feel the tension in him buzzing like static. Beau was trying to keep the peace, and Whit appeared to have vanished.
Plus…I kept seeing this strange figure—all in white with long brown hair, just watching me.
And every time I tried to fix my gaze on her, she disappeared.
Fuck.
I hadn’t wanted this—a showdown between me and AbelTrent, though I guess I should have figured it would happen. For some reason, I’d assumed he would be too much of a coward to show his face in front of the town…but men like him didn’t tend to care too much what people think when they had all that righteousness on their side.
“I don’t like this,” Silas said. “Fuckin’ asshole…tried to hurt you.”
“He tried to killyou, actually,” I said, “if what we think about that snake is correct. But…we need to show him we’re not afraid.”
“Can’t think of a better way to do that than kickin’ his ass,” Silas muttered. “We could do it—Whit and Beau and me?—”
“No,” I said. “We’re showing this community that we’re different, okay?”
Silas growled under his breath, fists clenching. I reached out to take his hand.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get some food and break in the buffet.”
I tugged Silas toward the table—and to his credit, he came along with me, even if his jaw tightened with every step. Abel was posted near the back with his cohort, leaning against a card table and watching as if this whole thing was hilarious.
Fine.
Let him watch.
I’d been judged by worse than him.
“Birdie,” I called, injecting as much cheer as humanly possible into my voice, “I hope you didn’t let the deviled eggs sweat too long.”
Birdie, God bless her, gave a sharp little sniff. “They were goin’ fast until that circus act walked in.”
A few chuckles rippled across the room. Delilah raised her eyebrow in approval. Francine let out a wheezy cackle andjoined us, reaching for a plate to serve herself some peach cobbler.
Right…yes. I hadn’t made a mistake letting them stay.
I was about to dress these fuckers down—with grace, of course.
I filled a plate—one biscuit, a scoop of macaroni, and Delilah’s green beans—and passed it to Silas. Then I made another for myself. A few more people joined us, seemingly willing now to ignore the massive, self-righteous elephant in the room, and voices picked up.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself quite the congregation, Reverend,” Abel called out, voice syrupy and smug. “Mind if I share a word with the flock?”
Silas tensed beside me, but I just set my cup down gently, folded my napkin in half, and wiped my hands.
Then I turned, smiling like a woman who hadallthe time in the world.
“We weren’t planning on doing any preaching today,” I said sweetly, “but if you really think your message is that important…Miss Evers, I’ll let you make the call—do you think he should have a word?”
Miss Evers didn’t miss a beat.
She stood straighter, set her cobbler down, and gave Abel the kind of look that could sand paint off a steeple. “He can have a word,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “but he better mind his tone.”
