Page 126 of Try Line Hearts
One message.
From his father.
He opened it.
Read it once.
Then again.
His mouth went dry.
Eli watched the color drain from his face. “Luke?”
Lucas didn’t answer. He just handed the phone over.
Eli read it.
“We will pray for you and for the country to find its way back to God.”
That was it.
Just that.
Lucas let out a sound he didn’t recognize—sharp and broken—and folded forward, elbows on his knees, hands coming up to cover his face like he could hold himself together if he pressed hard enough.
“Why?” he whispered. “Why can’t youjust love me?”
Eli moved immediately.
He stepped in close, pulled Lucas up and into him, arms wrapping tight, solid, sure. Lucas went willingly, forehead pressing into Eli’s chest, breath shuddering as everything finally gave way.
He cried the way people did when they were done being brave; silently at first, shoulders shaking, tears soaking into fabric. Then harder, a broken sound torn loose, grief and exhaustion and years of swallowed fear crashing together all at once.
Eli held him.
Didn’t shush or rush him.
Just anchored him there, one hand firm between his shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of his head, chin resting gently on Lucas’ hair.
“I’ve got you,” Eli murmured, over and over. “I’ve got you.”
Lucas clutched at him like a lifeline, fingers twisting in the fabric of Eli’s hoodie, breath hitching until it finally, slowly, evened out.
When the sobs eased, Eli didn’t pull away.
He waited.
Eventually, Lucas sagged fully against him, spent and emptied and safe enough to stop fighting.
“I’m sorry,” Lucas whispered hoarsely.
Eli pulled back just enough to look at him. “Don’t.”
Lucas’s eyes were red-rimmed, wrecked. “I thought—I thought maybe…”
Eli pressed his forehead to Lucas’s. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He held him again, tighter.
