CHAPTER
EIGHT
MAISIE
I can counton both hands how many times I’ve missed a Sunday morning service at my daddy’s church since I was born.
The vast majority of those times, I was sick.
Without fail, I’ve found myself in the same old, creaky wooden pew at the front that I’ve been sitting in since I was old enough to stop Sunday school classes and finally attend “big kid” church, listening to Daddy preach about whatever his sermon was about that week.
I never questioned it.
I’m the preacher’s daughter. I wake up every Sunday morning, put on my pretty dresses, and sit down at that pew week after week.
Except for today. I skipped church, sending a text to my parents that I wasn’t feeling well last night.
Which is a lie.
Not even a tiny half-truth.
A total lie.
My head isn’t aching the way I said it is. I feel perfectly fine, except for the guilt I’m feeling about lying.
I just, for once, wanted to choose for myself, and starting today, I’m going to take back my Sundays.
I woke up at four o’clock this morning for a 5:00 a.m. sunrise yoga class on campus, and it was incredible. Indescribable, honestly.
There’s something… so powerful about connecting with nature while doing something transformative as yoga. Feeling the sun warming your face while your palms are flattened against the soft, lush grass, strengthening your body while in tune with the Earth.
I loved it, and I’m already looking forward to the next one. Maybe next time, I’ll coerce Lennon into going with me since she loves to drag me along to the arena with her.
Which is why I’m here bright and early on a Sunday morning after yoga. But honestly? As much as I usually do not want to be here because I’m freezing, I don’t mind it today because I get to watch Lennon skate.
She’s the most incredible figure skater I’ve ever seen, and she loves it as fiercely as I do my books.
But for a long time, her father forbade her from skating, and it nearly destroyed her.
He cut off her resources and tried to use something she loves more than anything as a weapon against her, as a way to control her.
And that’s kind of what gave her the courage to reclaim that part of her, to be whoever she wanted to be. Witnessing her transformation into the woman she was always meant to be is what helpedmerealize that I have to prioritize my own journey, my own wants and needs, my own desires.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen her skate, and it’s still one of my favorite things in the world.
I used to go with her a lot when we were still roommates.
I’d bring a book and sneak in a few chapters when I wasn’t watching my best friend be a total badass on the ice. But since she’s moved in with Saint, they go together most of the time so he can practice, and she can too.
Ironic considering their relationship started with them fighting over their forced shared ice time. But fighting to the two of them is their version of foreplay, so obviously, I no longer come to watch Len practice the way I used to.
I don’t need any more traumatizing—the walls of our apartment are plenty thin enough. I’ve got enough trauma now to last a lifetime, thanks to Satan. I mean Saint.
Not today though. I get my bestieallto myself.
Saint, being the obsessed, over-the-top man that he is, got Lennon two hours of solo ice time this morning. “Unofficially,” of course.
He’d do anything for her, and that includes sneaking her into the arena just so she can have time to do what she loves.
