Page 10 of Property of The Grump

“Or what, Zane?” A tear streaks down my cheek as I stare at the ghost of the boy I used to know. “You going to send your family after me? You going to make me disappear like your dad did to your sister? Doesn’t that bother you? Doesn’t that keep you up at night wondering what happened to her?”

He grips my arm tighter, his jaw clenched as he stares at me. “My sister was a waste of fucking space. Whatever he did, she deserved.”

A chill runs down my spine, and I know I need to go. I know I can’t stay here, but for the life of me, I don’t know how to get away.

His gaze holds steady with mine, and I swear I see the devil dancing behind his retinas just before he releases his grip. “I’ll send photographers over to the church tomorrow morning. I expect you to be there.”

Without another word, he steps out of the room, and I’m left in a stupid, awful, embarrassing puddle of tears.

I hate that he makes me cry. I hate that he makes me question myself. I hate that I don’t know who I am around him.

I stare toward the computer screen blankly as I wipe a quick succession of tears and try to reconcile my truth with reality. I wouldn’t have gone back to that church, though deep down, I wanted to. I want a community. I want a place where I belong. I want to talk to Father Anderson again… about everything. About life, love, time, space, and the meaning of itall. I want to make him laugh that deep, throaty laugh I can tell he resists, and I want to feel like a good person, even if it only lasts for the few hours I’m at that little church on the hill.

So maybe today was a sign, and God sent Zane to push me into going back.

I’m contemplating my life and the existence of all things spiritual when my phone buzzes on the table beside me. It’s my friend Tilly. Technically, we’re not supposed to be talking. Zane thinks she’s a terrible stain on my image, but I sneak her calls in whenever I can.

“Hey, sweets,” I say, my arm throbbing in pain from where Zane gripped me as I reach for the phone. I don’t think I’ve processed what just happened yet. I’m not sure I ever will. How have things gotten this bad? “What’s up?”

“I miss you. Any chance you’re free for a secret meet up next week? I could use some girl time. We could hang out at my place. You miss the mountains, don’t you?”

“Of course. I hate living in the city. I just took a drive out to Whiskey Falls to remember what pine trees smelled like.”

“Ugh, you should’ve told me. I’d have met you out there for lunch or something.”

“It was a last-minute thing. I needed to clear my head.”

“We need to find you one of those underground groups who make people disappear and get you on their list. Just promise you’ll make an exception to come see me.”

“Yeah right. Zane would still find me.” I roll my eyes. “Now he’s got me volunteering at the church up in Whiskey Falls. I’m sure photographers will be there bright and early.”

“The church in Whiskey Falls?” she pauses. “The one with the super-hot, silver fox, biker priest?”

I laugh a little at her description of the man. “Super-hot, silver fox, biker priest? That’s a mouthful.”

“I bet he is too.”

My jaw drops and I can’t stop laughing. “Oh my God, stop! The man is a priest! He’s devoted his life to God! You can’t think about him like that!”

“Every woman in town thinks about him like that. I’m surprised you don’t. Hell, I even heard Mrs. Robinson talking about how attractive the man is. I mean, come on. I realize you’re busy being deeply betrothed to the devil, but you have to admit, Father Anderson is hot.”

“I didn’t actually see him. I sat in the confession booth. I mean, I saw him online, but that’s all.”

“Sexy! The confession booth with Father Anderson. That’s one I’ve fantasized about a few times. I sort of want to be choked a little with that—”

“Stop,” I laugh. “Seriously. I’ve got to see this man tomorrow. I don’t want to be imagining you and all your weirdo kinks while I’m baking him cupcakes.”

“So, what did you go to confession for?”

“Nothing, really. I just talked. We ended up having a really nice conversation.”

“Aniceconversation? Wow. How very PG.”

“What?” I laugh. “It felt good to talk to another human. I’m allowed to enjoy that.”

“I’m sure it did feel good to talk to someone. I mean, your husband keeps you locked in a tower.”

“Obviously, he doesn’t. I just got out, and I’ll totally go to lunch with you next week.”