Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
One
Trinity
Present Day
Perhaps the word I was looking for was ironic. It seemed a harsh word and made me feel as if I were looking at this with no emotion. That couldn’t be further from the truth. In the past week, I had suffered from every emotion known to man—or at least, it’d felt like it. Regardless, ironic was a good word. One that encompassed all that had happened in the past six months.
The soft whispers, hushed voices, even crying that I could hear on the other side of the wall I was leaning against reminded me that I should be out there. People expected me to be. They wanted to tell me how sorry they were, that they were praying for me, what a good man Hayes had been, and best of all, that it was God’s plan. I, on the other hand, didn’t want to endure listening to it. They knew nothing.
I wasn’t sure how long I could stay in this dark prayer room until someone found me. My stepmom, Tabitha, would come looking soon enough. She wouldn’t want me to embarrass her in front of the church. There had been no one more thrilled than Tabitha when Hayes proposed to me. The minister’s grandson, who would soon be a minister himself. He was loved and respected in town. He should have been. Hayes was one of the most genuine, kindest, warmest people I had ever known. Somehow, he had chosen me.
The door opened, slamming against the wall, and I jumped, startled. My gaze shot up from the handkerchief I had been twisting in my hands, expecting to see Tabitha. My excuses were on the tip of my tongue when I froze. That was not Tabitha.
It was a man. A very large man. A slightly terrifying man. His eyes locked on me, and he studied me. I couldn’t tell much in the darkness other than the silhouette of his face was masculine, defined, most likely attractive. Not that it mattered.
“You must be the missing fiancée,” he said in a deep voice, letting the door close behind him.
I nodded, but said nothing.
He walked over and sat down on a bench across the room. I watched him, wanting to ask who he was and what he was doing in here. His intimidating presence, however, kept me from speaking. He had to be at least six foot three. The suit coat he was wearing seemed tight across his wide shoulders, as if it were ready to rip apart if he simply flexed.
The man reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a flask. My eyes went wide as he opened it and took a long drink from it. When he lowered the flask, his eyes met mine again.
“You want a drink? Might help you face that out there,” he said, holding it out to me.
I looked at it for a moment and considered it. The fact that I was even thinking about it reminded me of all that Hayes had never truly known about me.
Finally, I shook my head. “I can’t have the Baptist folks smelling spirits on my breath,” I said softly.
He nodded, then twisted the top back on it before putting it in his pocket. I found myself wishing there were more light in here. The only window was small and made of stained glass. With the dreary day outside, it didn’t shine much light into the room. I was curious about what he looked like. His voice was deep, and there was a drawl to it that was oddly familiar.
“Got to fucking go out there sometime,” he said, shifting his gaze from the colorful window to me.
I knew that. I was going to. As soon as I convinced myself I could survive it.
“He ever tell you about the time he shot the window out of the parsonage?” the man asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.
Was he talking about Hayes?
I shook my head.
The man smirked then, and even in the shadows, I could see the way it curled his lips. I dropped my gaze back to my lap. This was Hayes’s funeral. I would not sit here and appreciate another man’s good looks.
What was wrong with me? Scratch that. I knew what was wrong with me. So much that I didn’t have enough time to list it all.
“He was seven. Damn, he was a strong-willed hothead. Thought he knew it all.” The man chuckled. “Fucker didn’t know shit.”
I was officially intrigued. How did this man know Hayes? They weren’t friends. I had met all his friends. Yet something about him made it clear he was struggling with Hayes’s death as much as I was. He sighed then and stood back up.
The door opened again, and light filled the room. This time, it was Tabitha. Her red hair was styled and sprayed so much that it wouldn’t budge in a windstorm. Her frantic eyes met mine, and then there it was. The fury, the resentment—all the things she had always felt for me were once again bursting wide open. Hayes was no longer here, and she had no use for me. Except for today, and I was letting her down. I wasn’t out there for all the church people to see.