I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(29)

Shit, I have to chuckle a little when I think of how she ran right into me. Talk about serendipity. Sweet girl stumbled a bit and seemed kind of dazed, but thankfully she wasn’t hurt. That had been my first concern. But once I realized she was all right, in the time it took her to recover, I just let myself thoroughly enjoy the view.

Kay is actually much prettier up close, more delicate than I originally thought. Her skin is translucent, creamy and smooth, like its begging to be touched. And from what I saw in those caramel-brown eyes, maybe, just maybe, she’d like to be touched by me.

Speaking of touching… That body, oh, that body. I shift a little and the pew creaks. Fuck. The way she felt beneath my hands, tiny and soft, like I could break her in two. And break her I would. There’s not enough good in me for such a gentle soul. Not to mention, it was more than apparent, as our conversation progressed, that Kay’s not ripe for breaking. She’s already been shattered by something.

Sweet girl sure isn’t good at lying, that’s for certain. Well, maybe at first, when I mistakenly thought she didn’t know who I was. That was my error. I should’ve known better. Kay does lives in this town, after all. Anyway, when she blurted out that Father Maridale believes in second chances, no matter what a person has done in the past, I knew then and there she’d known all along exactly who she crashed into.

I expected the judging to start. I was ready. That’s why I just cut through the bullshit and put sweet girl on the spot. But then I saw an emotion in those caramel browns that I never would have expected—sadness. And maybe understanding. Did Kay see the same in me? Is she broken and damaged too? Maybe so, based on all her talk of “not judging” and “if only I knew.” What the hell was that supposed to mean? If only I knew what?

Not that I expected an answer, and she sure wasn’t volunteering. Kay shut me out. Had sweet girl said too much? The look on her face indicated she had indeed. I say that with certainty since I know that look all too well. I’ve worn it often. It’s a look that says butt the f*ck out. So I did just that. I let the whole thing drop.

It doesn’t matter anyway. No secret of Kay’s could ever be as horrific as any of the shit I’ve done, most of which is unfortunately public knowledge. That’s why it meant a lot when she actually agreed to give me a chance.

That’s all I’m really asking for from the people in this town. See me as who I am—who I am striving to be—not as who I once was. And if it turns out Kay is the only one willing to do so—besides Father Maridale, of course—then so be it. Acceptance from two people—who, from what I’ve observed, are kind and caring—is good enough for me.

As I sit waiting for Father Maridale to emerge from the back, I come to a conclusion. I really like Kay Stanton. And because of this feeling I have for her I care about what she thinks. Additionally, I kind of can’t wait to see her again, which is a weird one for me. I usually don’t give a shit about stuff like that. But damn if lunchtime tomorrow can’t get here soon enough.

But before I have a chance to think about why I feel so strongly for a girl I’ve only just met, Father Maridale emerges from the back.

“I’m sorry, Chase,” he begins, his light brown eyes apologetic as he takes a seat near me on the pew. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for so long.”

I tell him it’s all good, the extra time allowed me time to reflect. He nods approvingly, probably thinking I meant I was praying. Not quite.

Father asks me how I’ve been doing lately and if everything is okay. His expression tells me that what he’s really asking is why I wasn’t in church this morning. Like, is something going on. Not anything I care to share, I think in my head. Outwardly, I take a deep breath, apologize, and simply say I overslept.

I don’t think he buys my explanation completely, but he lets it pass. He gives me the key to the school, and we shift gears. We talk a bit about the work he’d like for me to get done during the upcoming week. It’s mostly all painting projects over at the school, but a few repairs too.

Father Maridale tells me he’s already purchased all the paint I’ll need. “The cans are in the hall next to Mr. Kelly’s office,” he explains. “And there are drop cloths and ladders in the storage room a few doors down from there. You can’t miss it, there’s a sign on the door.” He pauses, appears to think for a minute. “Oh, and I also bought some new brushes and rollers. I think that should be everything you need to get started, but if not, let me know.”

It sounds like he has everything covered and whatever he didn’t buy I’m sure I have at home. I assume we’re finished talking, so I stand.

Father Maridale starts to get up too, and as he does, he asks me if I need someone to show me around the school. “I have a few extra minutes,” he says. “I can take you over there now.”

“No,” I reply. “I mean, thanks, but I’m good. Kay Stanton is giving me a tour tomorrow.”

Father relaxes back into the pew. “Oh, you know Kay?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Well, no, not really,” I admit, raking my fingers through my hair. “I mean, I’ve seen her here at church, but I only just now met her.” Father is listening intently, waiting for more I suppose, so I add, “We ran into each other in the parking lot”—I don’t mention that we literally did just that—“and just got started talking.”