Page 6 of Property of The Grump

“Kade,” Tucker says, “calm down.”

One mention of his name and my chest squeezes until goosebumps swallow my arms. The memory of every moment Father Anderson and I ever spent together comes flooding back as I stare toward the inked-up priest I got far too close to.

The hunger in his eyes when he first saw me. The way we laughed together at the little cove by the lake. The thrill that went through me when our fingertips brushed together.The way his body felt pressed against mine.I’ve replayed those moments over and over again for nearly a decade.

I can’t breathe!

Oh my God, I can’t breathe!

He stands in the dirt, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Don’t do it, man. Let’s talk this out.” There’s hesitance in Tucker’s voice, but I don’t know why.

What is he going to do?

Kade doesn’t speak. He doesn’t say a single word. He only stomps toward me, lifts me onto his shoulder, and carries me away.

Chapter Three

Kade

Seven Years Ago

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Her voice is soft, angelic, and pure, like a perfectly melodic song. “That’s what people say, right? I’ve never been in one of these things before.”

“Well, first you make the sign of the cross, and you tell me how long it’s been since your last confession.”

“Oh,” she squeaks, sounding nervous. “First timer, remember?”

“Right,” I say, noticing the shimmer of her dark hair through the metal lattice privacy screen separating us. “Well, first-timer, tell me what’s on your mind.”

She inhales quickly and holds it far too long before exhaling again. “I don’t know if I should be here.”

“Not knowing if you should be here is probably a good sign that you should be. What’s troubling you? Everything we say is between you, me, and God.”

“I’m not really a God person. I don’t know what I believe.”

“Questioning your faith is a normal part of exploring spirituality. We’re all searching for answers. Why did you feel drawn to this church?”

“I don’t know. I was out for a drive, and something pulled me in.”

“Had you traveled far?”

“From the Springs. I… I needed to get out for the day. A little escape from reality. There’s a lot going on at home.”

“The Springs? That’s a big change from this little town. Do you like the city?”

“No way. I grew up in Rugged Mountain. I miss it so much. The trees, the quiet, the little Sunday afternoons by the river reading or listening to music. It was perfect.”

“Yeah, it’s a gorgeous town. Great little church, too. The priest there is very easy to talk to. You ever stop by there?”

“No,” she says quickly. “I could stare at a wall in that town and an hour later he’d have told everyone what I’m thinking.” She laughs sweetly under her breath, and for a second, I feel more man than priest, which doesn’t happen much anymore.

She’s funny.

I clear my throat. “Small towns can be like that. We had a rather large potluck debacle last year. Someone told someone else something about someone’s daughter, and the whole church knew about it before noon.”

“So, you’re saying I’m screwed?” There’s a sarcasm in her tone that I’m amused by. Maybe it’s because she’s speaking so casually. So few people speak to me that way anymore.