She leans in, smelling like fresh-baked bread. “I decided to throw in a roast for supper, and time got away from me. I sped all the way here. Good thing the sheriff is in attendance today, or he’d have given me a ticket.”
I smile at her before facing forward. After all, it’s not her fault that I’m uninterested.
Lora Jackson’s a sweet woman and pretty, too. She’s kind and seemingly honest—the sort of woman who would make an amazing wife and mother. I’ve thought about this a few times, often late at night when I can’t sleep and find myself sitting on the front porch with a glass of tea.
But I can’t do it. As stupid as it is—and it is beyond foolish at this point—I can’t imagine making memories with anyone besides Mira. I don’t want to. As lonely as it gets, I’d rather just be alone.
“Good morning,” Pastor Reed says, as the hymn finishes. He sidesteps the ray of light hitting him in the face. “It’s nice to see so many faces smiling back at me.” He comes around the pulpit. “I’d like to start this morning with a friendship offering for the family of Cherry Randolph. I just came from her house and, well, the good Lord is calling her home.”
The boys who take up the offering collect the plate and begin passing it down each aisle. I deposit a one-hundred-dollar bill into the tray before handing it off to Lora. The church has had multiple discussions about modernizing and allowing online transactions, but every time the idea comes up, it meets a resoundingno. I get it. There’s something wholesome about putting money into a collection bin, even if it is a pain in the ass when you forget to go to the ATM Saturday night.
“Hey, about that roast,” Lora says, her blue eyes sparkling. “It’s a pretty big one, much more than I can eat myself. Would you want to come over for supper?”
I dig my buzzing phone from my pocket. “That’s very nice of you, but I already have plans. I’m sorry.”
Her smile wobbles. “Oh, no worries. I’ll just freeze the rest.”
“Let’s open our Bibles this morning to Mark, chapter nine, verse twenty-three,” the pastor says. “Everything is possible for the one who believes. That’s what we’re talking about today, folks.”
I glance down at my device.
Brooks: So …
Me: Whatever it is, it can wait.
Brooks: Why’d you leave Pasty’s last night?
Me: Talking about a bar during church services isn’t good manners.
Brooks: Neither is threatening to kill a man for touching Mira’s ass.
I roll my eyes.
Me: I didn’t threaten anyone.
Brooks: What’s that old saying? Actions speak louder than words? Yeah. You didn’t have to SAY shit.
Me: It’s no big deal. Now shut up and pay attention.
Brooks: I’m good. I already believe, so I know that he’s not preaching to me.
I glance over my shoulder to catch him smirking at me. Audrey’s too invested in the sermon to realize her boyfriend is being a shithead. That or she’s just used to it by now.
Shaking my head, I type out another message.
Me: I’m turning my phone off.
Before I can get it to shut down, Brooks sneaks in another text.
Brooks: Oh, so no distractions? That’ll be great from Mira’s point of view. She’ll think you and Lora are canoodling.
I abort my mission.Fucker.
Me: You shouldn’t be distracted in church.
Brooks: At least I’m honest about it. You’re sitting up there stoically, pretending you’re not thinking about Mira St. James.
Me: Mind your own business.
