Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(4)

“If those of you in the front row could follow us backstage during the closing song, that would be great.” He nods to Kennedy’s mom—Wendy I think her name is—and casts a quick glance my way.



Thank you, Jesus.

I’d been worried that I wouldn’t see Kennedy again until our New Testament class tomorrow, given that she’s on temporary lockdown at Roland’s house, and I figured there would be no chance I’d get to her after the service today. Seems someone was looking out for me there. Probably Kennedy. She always appears to be a step ahead of everyone here, despite her self-doubt to the contrary. And except for that bit with Joy. None of us saw that coming. I didn’t see her when we were filing in, but it’s no wonder. If I were her, I wouldn’t want to be seen for a very long time.



As soon as the drummer clicks away the final beat, I rise to my feet and jump one step down to the stage, filing behind the associate pastors and Wendy.

“You’re Matt Wells,” she addresses me over her shoulder. Her eyebrow is arched and there’s a tiny grin on her face.

A soft laugh precedes my response. She just quasi-introduced herself to me the way Kennedy did for the first time a few weeks ago. Not a question. A solid statement indicating she knows more about me than I may have given her credit for.

“Yes ma’am,” I nod and make brief eye contact with her before she turns her attention back in front of her as we move behind the heavy black curtains and backstage.

“Keep going straight to the green room,” Roland’s assistant, Jahara, instructs us.

“Green room?” I mumble over my shoulder, knowing Kennedy’s roommates are behind me. I know New Life is a combination church and TV studio, but … a green room?

“Guess so,” Bridgette’s shaky whisper gives away her nerves. She always seems nervous.

I keep my eyes forward, trying to catch a glimpse of Kennedy. She’s been walking at the front of the group, her head down and her steps quick. As we round a corner, she lifts her eyes and waves first to her mom, then leans her head a little to the side and seems to catch my gaze. I offer her a smile and a nod. I’d love to talk to her alone, but I’m assuming our special privileges regarding time together during the aftermath of the Joy storm are on their last legs. Unless I’m invited to family dinners at the Abbot residence, my one-on-one time with Kennedy is on indefinite pause.

The group finally slows as Kennedy, followed by the rest of us, files into what I’m to assume is the green room. Though, in true New Life style, this is no ordinary green room. Not that I’ve ever seen one in person before, but I’ve heard they’re generally like doctors’ waiting rooms. Not a lavish conference room with food and drink set up, and not to mention the couches and chairs scattered around the room.

“Please, everyone, take a seat.” Roland speaks up while we all stand around awkwardly.

The following game of musical chairs is even more uncomfortable. Kennedy moves to her mom and they hug for a long time. The knot in the center of my chest pulls my eyes away and I focus on the task of finding a seat. Eden and Jonah sit next to each other on a couch, and Silas sits next to them. Bridgette places herself in the chair across from them and they engage in what I’m sure they mean to seem as casual conversation, but their eyes flickering toward me every few seconds gives me a hint of the subject of their conversation. Taking a deep breath, I run my hand over my head and move toward the food table. I’ll stand.

“Matt.” A soft hand on my shoulder fills me with warmth.

“K. Sawyer,” I turn around and offer her a playful smile.

She bites her lip, which looks bare without its ring -- even though I’ve only seen her wearing it once—and gives a tiny shrug. “So?” Her eyes lift and meet mine with a shocking amount of nerves.

I touch her upper arm for a second, before realizing all the eyes on me, and then shove that hand in my pocket. “You did good.” I smile and bite my lip, too.

She scrunches her nose like she smells something rotten and rises to her tiptoes, whispering in my ear. “Why are you being weird?”

I tilt my lips toward her ear. “This is all kind of weird, don’t you think? What are we doing here?”

“Oh!” She giggles nervously. “Right.”

With a deep pink overtaking her cheeks, Kennedy turns to the rest of the room, addressing them with a bold confidence returning to her voice

“Thank you guys for coming back here with us. Roland and I just wanted to have a chance to touch base with everyone once the service ended, and we knew the crowd might be a bit much today. So, we’re going to hang back here and have some lunch. If you need or want to leave at any point, feel free.”

A quick movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. Whipping my head toward a far exit of the room, I can’t believe what I see. Who I see.

My father, former pastor Joseph Wells. Buck Wells if you knew him before his ministering days. I still don’t know how Kennedy’s mom knew that was his nickname, but we’ve all been kind of busy since that revelation, so I’ve let it go for the time being.

He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms in front of his chest. I don’t know what possessed him to show up. He didn’t bother to grace me with his presence when my mom came up for Parent’s Weekend. The back of my neck breaks into a sweat.