I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(63)

I am just relieved this kid still has a dream. I ask him to send me some samples of his work. He promises to e-mail me some stuff he just recently finished. Shit, I can’t wait to see my brother’s art. It was good before, but now that he’s older I have a feeling Will’s art is going to amaze me.

Our call comes to a close as we run out of words, but I sense Will wants to ask something more. He’s stalling, just like Mom does when she’s trying to get up the nerve to ask something she knows I won’t like.

“What’s up?” I ask.

Will starts to speak, but then hesitates. I wait him out, and finally, he gets to the point—my brother wants me to transfer some money into his banking account.

“Mom’s being a bitch after last night,” he says. “And there are a bunch of art supplies I was hoping to buy later today. Can you do it? I’ll pay you back.”

He won’t, but that’s not really the issue. The problem is that I know—I f*cking know I should refuse him. If Will is asking now, and not waiting for our mother to come around, then it’s probably because the money is for something he’s not supposed to have.

Art supplies, my ass.

Fuck, I just hope the money’s not for something illegal. I should tell Will no, but with the connection I’ve just made with him, I can’t bring myself to deny him.

So, I get all his bank information. And then we hang up.

I sit in the truck for a while. Shit, I should feel good. My brother is talking to me again. And things are beyond fantastic with Kay. But damn if I can’t shake this sense of dread washing over me, this feeling of foreboding.

I give myself a few more minutes, trying to get a grip. I’m so knotted up and bound, I can’t relax. And the longer I sit, the more it feels as if those imaginary ropes are being pulled tighter. But the worst part is that I feel like some force I have no control over is about to pitch me out to sea, bound and helpless. And in that condition, there will be no chance.

I will surely sink quickly.





Chapter Eight


Kay


Something is up with Chase, but I can’t imagine what it could possibly be. Yesterday was wonderful, perfect really, and I was hoping to spend more time with him today. Guess that won’t be happening.

Alas…

If my complicated boy needs time to himself, then who am I to deny him? He did say he’d tell me what’s bothering him later. And that’s good enough. Besides, the kisses he so enthusiastically bestowed made me forget everything, at least for a while.

But after all that delicious affection, now that Chase is gone, I feel a little empty. Worse yet, I have a feeling the off-kilter vibe to this day is only just beginning.

Ominously, the next person to step into the rectory office is Missy Metzger. And she looks like she’s on a mission.

I sigh and slump into my chair at the desk.

I mean, I’ve already told Missy I can’t make cookies—or anything else, for that matter—for the upcoming bake sale that’s part of the big Fourth of July carnival next week. It’s not as if my oven has miraculously started working. I try to circumvent a labored discussion by telling Missy exactly these facts as she approaches. However, I soon discover the bake sale isn’t even on my sort-of friend’s radar today.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about making anything, we have it all covered. Maybe by the August rummage sale your oven will be working.” She gives me a questioning look and I shrug. “Well, if so, you can get in on that one.”

I don’t tell her it’s not likely I’ll have a working oven by August, but Missy doesn’t seem too worried about it anyway. She hops up onto the edge of my desk and crosses her legs, making her miniskirt rise even higher. I’ve noticed the head of the bake committee has been dressing in skimpier clothes lately. Wonder what’s up with that?

“So-o-o,” Missy drawls as she picks up a freshly sharpened pencil, “Chase Gartner, huh?” She blows shavings from around the lead tip and shoots me a sidelong glance.

I reply nonchalantly, “Oh, you saw him leaving?”

“I saw more than that, sweetie.” Missy winks and points the pencil at me. “So, you and Chase making out in the rectory, you’re lucky Father Maridale didn’t walk in.”

She’s right, so I say, “No kidding.”

Well,” she continues as she toys with the pencil, “this is all very interesting, Kay. What’s going on with you and the town’s resident bad boy?”

There’s no sense pretending, so I just spit it out and admit we’re officially dating.

Her eyebrows go up and the pencil goes down. “Really? Like, he’s your boyfriend?”

I nod and Missy purses her lips, seemingly losing herself in thought.

I’ve wondered for a while why there’s this odd vibe between Missy and Chase, so I ask, “What’s your problem with him anyway? You used to think he was hot, but now you act like you can barely stand him.”

“Oh, I still think he’s hot, honey. Some things are indisputable. But, I told you before, the guy is a prick. He’s a player, Kay. You should watch your step.”

I know my boy’s past reputation, but there’s something in Missy’s tone that makes me think she may have firsthand knowledge of something. But that can’t be right. Chase would’ve surely mentioned if anything had ever happened between them. I mean, I think he’d tell me.