“And what did you see, Pete?” Evelyn challenged, her hands on her hips. “Two young men taking a walk? Having a conversation?”
Pete’s face contorted with rage. “I saw them coming out of those woods looking like they’d just—” He stopped himself, glancing around at the churchgoers watching with rapt attention. “I know what they were doing.”
“You don’t know anything about us,” Ryder retorted.
Pete’s eyes narrowed and my stomach twisted. Ryder had just given us away, admitted to the accusation by sayingus.
“You’re damn right I don’t,” Pete snarled, taking another step forward despite Evelyn’s attempts to hold him back. “But I know what I saw. And I know what people like him do to young men like you.”
The accusation hung in the air, heavy and poisonous. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, judging, condemning. Prison had taught me exactly what it felt like to be looked at like I was something less than human. But this time, it wasn’t just about me.
“People like me?” I echoed, my voice dangerously quiet. “You mean ex-cons? Or gay men? Which one bothers you more, Pete?”
Pete’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red. “Both,” he spat. “You’re a criminal and a pervert, and you’ve been corrupting my son.”
I felt Ryder tense beside me, ready to leap to my defense, but I subtly shifted my weight, blocking him with my shoulder. This was my battle to fight.
“I haven’t corrupted anyone,” I said evenly, though my heart hammered in my chest. “Your son is an adult who makes his own choices.”
“Choices?” Pete laughed bitterly. “You think he chose this? You think he’d choose to throw away everything—his future, his inheritance, his reputation—for someone like you? You’ve manipulated him, turned him against me, against everything I’ve taught him.”
“Dad, stop it!” Ryder’s voice cracked with emotion. “Connor hasn’t done anything wrong. This is between you and me.”
“No,” Pete growled, his eyes never leaving my face. “This is between me and him. The convict who thought he could come onto my property and seduce my son.”
I stood my ground, refusing to be intimidated despite the very real threat to my freedom. One phone call from Pete to my parole officer, and I’d be back behind bars before midnight.
“Mr. McGrath,” I said, trying one last time for reason, “I understand you’re upset, but?—”
“Upset?” Pete’s voice rose to a shout. “You think I’m just upset? You’ve beenfuckingmy son!”
The words echoed through the church hall, followed by shocked gasps and murmurs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pastor John flinch at the language, but he didn’t back away.
“Pete McGrath!” Evelyn snapped, her face flushed with anger. “That is enough! You’re drunk and making a fool of yourself.”
“Stay out of this, Evelyn,” Pete warned, shoving past her to get closer to me. I could smell the whiskey on his breath now. “Unless you want a black eye too. I ain’t puttin’ up with yourbadgerin’ anymore. My only concern is teaching thisconvicta lesson.”
“You will not be doing that God’s house. Or spewing accusations and hate like a viper in this sacred space,” Pastor John said firmly, stepping between us. “I think you need to leave, Pete. Come back when you’re sober.”
Pete’s face darkened as he glared at Pastor John. “Don’t you lecture me about God’s house when you’re turning a blind eye to sinners and criminals.”
“Dad, please,” Ryder pleaded, stepping forward despite my attempt to keep him behind me.
Pete spun toward his son, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You shut your mouth. I didn’t raise you to be like this. You’re coming home right now, and we’re going to fix whatever this convict has done to you.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Ryder said, his voice steadier than I expected. “And Connor hasn’t done anything to me that I didn’t want.”
The admission hung in the air, and I watched Pete’s face contort with rage. His fist clenched at his side, and I knew what was coming next. I’d seen that look enough times in prison to recognize when a man was about to throw a punch.
“Ryder, get back,” I warned, but it was too late.
Pete lunged forward, swinging wildly at his son. I moved without thinking, stepping between them to block the blow. But before Pete’s fist could connect with either of us, Larry appeared seemingly out of nowhere, shoving me aside and taking the hit square in the jaw.
The sound of knuckles against bone cracked through the church hall like a gunshot. Larry stumbled backward but didn’t fall, his hand coming up to touch his rapidly swelling face.
“Jesus Christ, Pete,” Larry muttered, wincing as he worked his jaw. “Have you completely lost your fucking mind?”
Pete stood frozen, momentarily shocked by what he’d done. The entire room had gone silent, dozens of eyes watching the scene unfold with a mixture of horror and fascination.
