“Well? Are you planning on doing it again?” she asks.
“I shouldn’t, especially since it wasn’t fulfilling, but everyone thinks we’re supposed to be together. Gabe could get better at it, right? It was his first intimate experience, too.”
“Oh, babes. Some guys never get good at eating a girl’s kitchen.”
“Can we not say it out loud?” I whine. “It makes it feel worse.”
Her expression softens. “No, don’t worry! He is a pastor. God can forgive two good-intentioned souls. Also, Gabe would never tell anyone. It would make him look deviant. You are simply human. It’s not sex-sex, either. That’s for your future husband, who frankly, is Gabe.”
I nod exaggeratedly, like that will make her words wash away the quiet dread.
“Relax, Morgan. God forgives you.”
Yes. She’s right. God forgives me. God forgives me.
“Ingrid, I just wish Gabe made my heart go pitter patter. Maybe if I loved him, I wouldn’t be so conflicted.”
She cringes. “Love doesn’t make anything easier. Just let go and let God.”
I restrain the urge to roll my eyes.
That saying is solid advice, except for me. My life is already planned. If I let go, nothing changes. I’ll stay on the same path because the walls my father built are too high.
Chapter 2
Jack
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I scold Noel after walking in on my brother, who is jerking his rod. “Lock the goddamn door.”
The house is already hot, even this early. Ceiling fans hum but barely move the air. Old wood creaks underfoot.
I fling his door shut and open the next.
“Ready, Tommy?” I say, tousling his hair.
He looks up and smiles. His almond-shaped eyes crinkle. Dark hair falls straight over his forehead. His T-shirt is on backward. One sock is inside out. Good enough, though. Too bad Noel didn’t have Down syndrome. This kid always makes the grind worth it. Makes giving up my dreams worth it. Most days.
“Ready,” he replies.
I grab his glasses and slip them on. “Remember these?”
He swats his own cheek and gives an impish grin. “Whoops!”
I lead him out and pass Noel’s bedroom again, who comes flying into the hallway with a red face, embarrassed. He won’t meet my eyes. His ears glow pink.
“I missed the bus,” he whines as he follows us outside.
“Can’t imagine why. Guess I have to take you now.” I gesture for him to get into the car. We pack into the old sedan. The car smells like fast food wrappers and gasoline. The air conditioner rattles but never really cools. “You better come to the center after school and help me.”
“I was planning to. She’s coming today. Morgan.” In the rearview mirror, I catch him fussing with his hair and shirt.
I sigh, annoyed. “Bro. That dumb Bible thumper you talk about? A religious girl ain’t right for you.”
“I’m actually getting into God.”
“Are ya? Sounds like you’re trying to change who you are for a girl.”
“You should participate in prayer tonight. You need God in your life,” he mumbles.
