Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2) (31 page)

I polish off the rest of the Chinese food and half a pint of ice
cream before texting Roland and telling him I’m going to bed. I fall asleep quickly, but the respite doesn’t last long. Some time after midnight there is a text dinging through on my phone and someone tapping on my window. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I squint enough to see that it’s Jonah, and he looks frazzled.

Roland is in the bedroom across the living room, and I don’t think he’s a light sleeper, but I make quiet work of getting out of bed and opening the window.

“What?” I whisper, annoyed.

Jonah peeks over his shoulder before leaning in. “Matt’s gone. You have to help me find him.”

“It took me an hour to sneak out of Matt’s parents house,” Jonah says, walking toward Roland’s car. “How’d you get out so fast? And with his keys?”

I roll my eyes and unlock the car. “This may come as a shock to you, but this isn’t my first time.” We get in and I start the car, ever so grateful for the silence
of an electric car
as we pull away. “What happened after you guys left?”

Jonah sighs. “He stormed back into his house and up to his room. His dad looked at me in
that way
that dads sometimes do when they’re concerned, and his mom asked me what happened.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“I said we’d gotten into a heated theological discussion.”

I nod in approval. “Not even a lie. Go Jonah. So, why are we in the car? And where are we going?”

“Well we were sharing a room, and about an hour ago I heard him shuffling around. I asked him what was up and he told me not to say anything, and just leave him alone. He wasn’t a total jerk about it, or anything. He just … snuck out his window, down the
d
rain pipe thing and that was it. He was gone.”

I nod. I only met Joe “Buck” Wells once before this morning, but he seemed much more relaxed and pleasant today than back when I first met him. Janet Wells, Matt’s mom, is such a sweetheart that when Matt filled in the details of his father’s past, it broke my heart for her. She’s a petite woman, dwarfed by both her husband and Matt, but her strength is evident and more than makes up for the difference in height. She’s probably forty, with shoulder-length blonde hair that has started showing some white. Other than that, she barely looks over thirty-five. Matt’s sister is spending the rest of her break at Janet’s parents house in Savannah, so I won’t get to meet her this trip. Given all that’s going on, I’m kind of glad she’s not here for this.

“And where we’re going is …”

“I’m not telling you unless I’m right. Just keep driving.” Jonah’s unusually assertive as he looks at his cell phone, which I can see is displaying a maps app that Jonah has muted.

“You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head. “I’m praying I’m wrong, Kennedy. I don’t want to give any lip service to the worst case scenario.”

“Okay, Just tell me where to turn.” I’m holding back because I’m grateful Jonah asked me to come along at all. I suspect he didn’t want to be the one to steal Roland’s car, and that’s why he asked me, but it’s still nice to be included. Even as an accessory.

After a few minutes of silence and a couple of right hand turns, I turn the radio on, and Jonah and I are surrounded by the modern Christian satellite station talking about Jesus being the rock on which we should stand.

“Better be a big-ass rock,” I mumble. “Because we’ve got some weight we need it to hold.”

“Do you ever doubt?” Jonah says, rolling down the window and filling the car with
a chilly
breeze.

“Sure,” I answer honestly.

“Like
really
doubt?”

I chuckle. “I guess that depends on what kind of faith you think I have. I don’t doubt God’s power, but I question his absolute authority in my life, if that makes sense. Like … I believe he’ll help me if I call, but I’m not sure about the in-between stuff.”

Jonah huffs through his nose. “God’s not a magic lamp, Kennedy. And Jesus isn’t his genie.”

“So it’s all or nothing?” I grip the steering wheel tighter.

“Hey,” Jonah holds up his hands, “I didn’t say that. God did. In the
Bible
.”

I shoot my eyes to Jonah for a second and twist my lips. “I’m aware. Sort of. I think I need to read more New Testament, actually.”

“But what you said to Matt about the story and God’s plan. You believe all of that?”

I take time for a long sigh. “Sometimes. I certainly feel that’s the case here, since I have no other rational explanation for why I ever set foot on CU ground or why I’m here, driving a sort of stolen car in Georgia looking for our hurt friend who’s run away.”

“Turn left and slow down a little,” Jonah instructs. “Keep your eyes forward though.”

“Don’t be weird or anything.”

“
Please
, Kennedy.” Something tells me to listen to bossy Jonah. So, against my own wishes, I keep my eyes forward. “Slow
er
.”

“Mmhmm,” I answer while doing as instructed.

“Shiiiiit,” Jonah draws out in a whisper.

“I should take a right then?” I guess, judging by where his gaze is.

“Yes.”

“I’ll have to look there, though.”

He’s not biting at my attempt of mood-lightening humor, so I swallow hard and make the
turn. At first glance, it kind of looks like any old parking lot in a relatively busy area of town. A Wal-Mart is in the distance, and a strip mall with a barbershop, clothing store, and pet food store all in one place is a little closer. Turning my head to see the name of the establishment we’re parking in front of, I see the name
The Pink Pony.

“Is this a restaur—oh …
oh …
” It’s not a restaurant. Restaurants have windows. And “Live Entertainment” is usually followed by the name of a band. And, to my knowledge, restaurants aren’t typically called a “Gentleman’s Club.” And, if I’m being honest, no place I’d actually want to
eat
at would have such a name.

I don’t believe for a second there are gentlemen here.

“There’s his car.” Jonah points to the Hummer that is most certainly Buck’s midlife-crisis-mobile.

And it sat in this same lot.

My mind is racing. Jonah knew where to find Matt. Matt’s been here before, or at least talked about being here before.

“This is the place Matt mentioned tonight,” I state, hoping that’s where Jonah picked up on it.

“Yep.” Jonah’s rubbing his palms on the front of his pants.

“He’s been here before.” I pray to be wrong.

Jonah’s hesitation is all I need.

Unbuckling, I open the door. “Let’s go get him, then.”

Jonah grabs my wrist and pulls me back in the car. “You’re not going in there,” he barks just below a shout.

I yank my arm away, nearly knocking myself in the face when he releases my wrist. “Take it easy, Prince Charming. I can handle myself.”

“I’m sorry. Shoot, I’m sorry, Kennedy. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Jonah exits the car and we face off
,
talking over the roof of the tiny environmentally friendly vehicle.

I take a deep breath, then damn myself for that decision. The air smells like the loose gravel of the parking lot, old Christmas trees from the emptying lot next door, and reeks of regret.

“You didn’t hurt me,” I lie. He’s strong. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m not going to follow through with my best CU friend. How many times has he gone here? Jonah?” I press when he hesitates. “I don’t think now is the time to keep secrets.”

“Here just once. But there were a few more times near Asheville.”

“At
school?
” I hiss, drawing looks from a nearby customer getting in his car.

Don’t worry, dude with the nice wedding ring. I don’t know your wife.

“How?” I continue. “When?
Jesus,
” I whisper with my head down. “Those damn football parties.”

“He lied about those,” Jonah cuts in. “Yeah he snuck off campus a few times with them but I think that just taught him how to do it. And he got a bunch of demerits for not signing off campus but no one ever
knew
where he’d been …”

I lock the
car
and start for the door. “How long have you known?” I ask over my shoulder.

“A while. Kennedy, look, you
can’t
go in there.” Jonah catches up to me and takes a few steps ahead.

I laugh, throwing my head back. “Jonah, if there’s anyone who shouldn’t go in there, it’s
you
. I’ve seen naked people before that don’t belong to me.”

His face falls, but he doesn’t fight me when I push past him. “What are you going to do when you get in there?”

I shrug. “Find Matt and drag him out kicking and screaming if I have to. You’re strong, you can help.” I arch an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry about pulling you. I’m freaked out here.” He sounds truly panicked.

“Jonah,” I take a deep breath, “you should go wait in the car. If it gets ugly in there and somehow someone finds out I’m here, I can take the heat. Roland can deal with the PR fallout and I’ll just be some lost child from a heathen background. You? You’ll lose your whole life. Stay out here, Jonah. Don’t risk it.” I don’t
want
to get kicked out of CU, but more that that I don’t want Matt screwing up his life by turning into the dark version of his father.

Jonah’s eyes roam over my face before he straightens his shoulders. “I’m not leaving either one of you in there.”

“Then let’s go, buttercup. Take me on my first missions trip.” I hold out my arm, and Jonah links his through mine.

Holding open the door to the strip club for me. Like a
true
gentleman
.

After the business of showing the over-bulked bodyguard our ID’s, he asks for a backup. Both of us only have our CU ID’s, which we show him. He finds this amusing.

“What are you on some mission? The girls who hand out the
fancy soaps
come on Wednesdays. You’re late.”

“What? No. That’s not why we’re here,” I answer. “Can we have our ID’s back?” Just before walking in, I’d asked Jonah to keep his trap shut until we got in. This place is eighteen and over, but I wanted to minimize the risk of undue attention.

“Have fun,” the ogre says with a condescending grin.

I wink back. “Always do.”

Once officially “in”, we have to walk down an overlong hallway, music thumping louder the closer we get. The place isn’t as dark as I’d expected, given my limited knowledge of these places. There are some backlights around the bar, which only serves coffee and soda according to the small menu, but other than that, The Pink Pony has
a
kind of formal dinner lighting. Soft, elegant, and you can see the people around you but they’re easy enough to tune out, too, if you wish. And, I’m counting on the people around us to be tuning us out. Though I suppose the women on the stage at the moment have more to do with no one paying us attention than the lighting does.

As Flo-Rida blares from the speakers, Jonah moves to my left, leaving me closer to the stage area. His hands move to his pockets and his head lowers as if he’s on a scavenger hunt for rocks.

Rocks…

I suddenly
get
the code word Silas and Bridgette have for each other when they’re in public and w
an
t to “guard” each other from seeing things they want to protect their eyes from. Their heads would have exploded in the parking lot, so I don’t have to waste time wondering what they would be thinking if they were in here, but I’m growing really concerned for Jonah.

“Hey,” I whisper as we walk aimlessly to the back of the room, “I was serious. Wait outside. I don’t want you getting in trouble with CU or … you know.”

God.
The unspoken third person in every single conversation.

“Stop,” he demands. “It’s fine. I just want to find Matt and get him out of here.”

“Where are we going?”

He tilts his chin forward. “Maybe from the back corner we can see more of the floor and find him faster.”

Just as much as Jonah is keeping his eyes away from the stage, I’m working to keep my eyes off the patrons. Because I don’t just see a group of college guys sneaking sips of their own beer. I see Trent, Jonah, and Silas. I don’t see the guy with
his
loosened tie and cast-aside suit coat. I see Roland, and it turns my stomach. I see their wives, girlfriends, and daughters at home. I see Matt.

I see Matt.

“There.” I elbow Jonah and point to the furthest table in the back, just as the track changes to an Usher song. “I’m going to need to make some major changes to my playlists when I get home,” I mumble, my heart racing the closer we get to Matt.

We’re approaching him from the side, so he doesn’t see us—what with his eyes being glued to a girl sliding down the pole upside down—quite skillfully from what my peripheral vision allows me to see.

Stop looking at her, Matt. Stop.

Putting my hand up, I stop Jonah a few long paces away from Matt’s table. “We need a plan,” I whisper, close to his ear so he can hear me over the thumping of the bass. “He’s drinking.” I try not to choke on the last few words, since seeing an eighteen-year-old drink is not out of the realm of normalcy for my life in Connecticut. But it is here. Well, “here” as in Matt.

“How do you know?” Jonah whispers back, just as close to my ear as I was to his. His voice is breathy, highlighting his adrenaline-surged nerves.

“Flask between his knees,” I note of the shiny silver neck peeking over his jeans. While I can’t tell if he’s done this alcohol-hiding thing before, he’s not a complete amateur with a brown paper bag.

Britney Spears is up next. Musician, not girl.
Her
name is Charity, says the man with the creepy-sounding voice.

Yes, Ms. Spears, this is all very toxic.

I’ve never given much thought to strip clubs. My senior year in high school, the rite of passage for guys turning eighteen was to go with their other now-adult friends to such places to celebrate their independence from childhood. It certainly garnered laughs, but right now none of it seems that funny. Sure, there are guys in here with groups of friends, clearly with their fraternity brothers or at a bachelor party—don’t get me started on that—but it’s the other men that make me uncomfortable. The ones here alone. Not here for any sort of social bonding—whatever that means—but here for
this
. The women, the scene.

“What if he won’t come with us?” Jonah asks, clearly growing in his hesitation.

Taking a deep breath, I walk forward. “He will one way or another.”

I’m thankful for the loud music, or I might hear the rational voices in my head that I know are telling me to
get out
. I will get out. When I have my best friend with me.

“Hey.” I tap Matt on the shoulder, aiming for a casual greeting.

He grumbles something
un
intelligible and shrugs his shoulder.

“Matty,” I say a little too-quietly. I’ve only ever heard Roland call him this, and it was months ago, but it poured from my mouth faster than I could consider it.

It gets his attention, though. Matt snaps his head around and, while it’s clear he’s teetering on the line between buzzed and intoxicated, the horror on his face as he takes in mine, and then Jonah’s, is overwhelming.

“Come on.” I nod to the door and put my hand in his arm. “Come with us.”

Looking right past me, Matt sneers at Jonah. “Why the hell did you bring her here? Get her out of here.”

“Come on, Man,” Jonah pleads in the brief silence between songs.

Soon, we’re encapsulated in the late 1980’s with some sexy-sweet rock anthem that has the older men in the crowd on the edge of their seats, wallets out. Against my better
anything
I look at the stage and find a girl who wasn’t even born when this song topped the charts. It must make the men feel younger, I guess, to listen to music they jammed to in high school while looking at girls the age they wish they still were.

“I’m not going with you guys. Leave me here. Get out.” Matt hasn’t moved much, but his voice is growing anxious.

“Let’s just go get you home and into bed and that’ll be the end of it.” My hand is still on his shoulder and I give it a small squeeze.

He shakes it off. “It
won’t
be the end of it. This is just the beginning …” He leans back, wrapping his hand over his mouth. “This is where it all started for him.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes. We know, Matt. Your dad ruined his life starting here. And you’re mad he’s been given a second chance so you’re deciding to have all kinds of
fun.
Look around you. Does this look fun to you? You don’t want to be this guy.”

“I am this guy, Kennedy. Just leave me the
fuck
alone.” Matt’s words pierce through me and I take a step back.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Jonah stands up for me.

Matt stands, not quite
dwarfing
Jonah, but posturing to him nonetheless. “And don’t bring her to places like this. I trusted you, and this is what you do to repay that trust?” He sways a little before the alcohol he’s already ingested pushes him back to his seat.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Sweet Jesus.
It’s Roland. My palms sweat, shaking as I put my phone in my back pocket.

With a shaking voice, I kneel in front of Matt, who hasn’t made eye contact with me since some time yesterday. “Matt?” I ask, putting a hand on his knee. “Look at me please.”

Casting a dark glance downward, he says nothing but his eyes connect with mine. Dark, hollow pits. “What?” he finally mumbles.

“Please just leave here with us and get in the car. You need to get out of here.
Please
. I care about you, Matt. I love you and I don’t want you doing this to yourself.”

He curls his lip. “You don’t love me. You’re just saying that because you want me to do what you want. That’s how people are—tell you what you want to hear in order to get what they want.”

My eyes fill with tears. “I’m saying that because it’s true, and because we need to go. We don’t have much time before people come looking for us.” My phone vibrates nearly constantly, highlighting frantic phone calls from Roland. Or my mom if he’s already told her I’m gone. I don’t think he’d do that though. He knows how to choose his battles with me and her.

“Kennedy,” he growls. “Get
out
.”

“Is there a problem over here?” another annoyingly beefy bouncer ask
s
, approaching from behind.

I have a split second to make a decision. Either I can tell this bonehead that Matt is in here, drinking underage after having snuck in alcohol—which will involve an ugly exit for Matt and a trip to jail most likely—or I can lie.

When in Rome …

Shaking my head, I
give
Beefcake #2 a smile and a wink. “No problems here. We’re on our way out.” I interlace my fingers with Jonah’s, giving him a small tug to follow me. He does, and we exit the club without issue. And, without Matt.

“What now?” Jonah paces the sidewalk in front of The Pink Pony.

“We’re in deep shit,” I admit freely. “Roland is calling me.”

His eyes bulge so far out of his head I think for a moment he’ll need an ambulance. “Are you kidding?”

“Yeah,” I snap. “Because this is the time for jokes.”

Jonah holds out his hands, his voice trembling dangerously. “What are we going to do?”

Taking a deep breath, I pull my phone from my pocket. “It’s going to be okay,” I say. “Trust me. I’m not scared, which must mean this is coming from somewhere other than me,” I mumble, pointing to the sky.

“Trust you with what?”

I shake my head. “I don’t care if Matt never talks to me again, but we need to get him out of there.” Tapping Roland’s contact information, I take a deep breath and hold it in as the phone rings, a lifetime of needing him brewing in my throat.

“Kennedy?” Roland answers in a sheer panic. “Where are you? Where’s Jonah? Are you with him?”

His concern is so primal, so tangible, that I let the cool brick wall behind me hold me up. “Dad,” I sob, “Matt’s in big trouble. I need you.”

Saying the words is too much. I slide down the wall, leaving me crouching above some rocks, questionable wrappers scattered around my feet.

Dad, I need you.

In a split second, Jonah is squatting next to me, arm around my shoulder.

“Okay, Kennedy. It’s okay,” he breathes a sigh that sounds like relief, “just tell me where you are.”

“I …” I start, but can’t say the words. Instead, I hand the phone to Jonah.

“Sir? Yes, this is Jonah. Right. I’m sorry. Um … The Pink Pony,” poor Jonah says with a record amount of shame. “Yeah … that’s the place.”

They say more words, but I can’t hear them. I’m crying so hard into my bent knees that I can’t hear, see, or feel much else other than abject sadness. Suicide isn’t always a physical act, and leaving Matt in those walls feels like watching him pull the trigger with a twelve-inch thick glass wall between us. I didn’t see it coming. I couldn’t see the spiral. It was too steep, too fast. Too real.

“Sweetie?” A soft hand perches on my shoulder. Looking up, I find a middle-aged woman with thick blue eye
shadow crouching next to me. “Are you okay?” She eyes Jonah suspiciously before quickly returning her attention to me.

Right. Because I’m a young female crying in front of a strip club with a broad-shouldered dude next to me.

“Oh,” I sniff, forcing myself to stand, “I’m fine. This is my boyfriend,” I lie again, because that’s what you do in and around these places.

She smiles. “Don’t beat yourself up, honey. Men are pigs. Just bring him home and remind him why he doesn’t need a place like this.” She gives me a wink and slides in a side door labeled
Employees Only.

Jonah returns my phone. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“
They?
”

He nods. “Roland and Mr. Wells.”

Goose
bumps cover my neck and shoulders. “Well, there goes any hope we could keep this from Matt’s parents.”

“Was that really your plan? To keep this from them.”

I shrug. “I don’t … know.”

“No or
know
.”

I shrug again, more tears spilling down my face. “I just want to go home, Jonah.”

With a sigh Jonah steps forward. “Sorry,” he whispers, pulling me into a hug. “Sorry,” he says again, resting his chin on the top of my head.

I stay in the hug and think about what I just said. I didn’t mean Connecticut when I said “home,” and I didn’t mean Matt’s parents’ guesthouse.

“Kennedy. Jonah.” Roland’s voice lifts my eyes to the sight of him and Buck exiting a small SUV and briskly walking toward us.
It seems like we just got off the phone with them, but my perception of time, or anything real, is shot.

Jonah drops his arms from me and I cross the sidewalk to meet Roland. “Thank you for coming,” I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

“I’m so glad you called me,” he whispers, sounding like a thirsty man pouring a glass of water. He takes a step back and holds my face in his hands, his thumbs pushing tears out of the way. “Are you okay?” His eyes search over me like I’m a war victim.

Not that kind of war.

I nod, and when Roland drops his hands I look at Buck. “I’m sorry. He’s inside and we tried to get him out, but he’s … I think on top of everything else, he’s drunk.”

A single tear rolls down Buck’s war-torn cheek. He nods with a clenched jaw. “Thank you for calling.”

“I’m sorry we stole your car,” I say to Roland.

“Yeah, Sir,” Jonah echoes. “I’m
really
sorry.”

“No worries. No worries,” Roland repeats, placing hands on our shoulders. “You did the right thing. Why don’t you go wait in my car,” he says without it being a real question.

Jonah and I look to each other and do as told, sliding into the backseat of the Prius.

“Who’s going to drive
t
hat car home?” Jonah asks, reminding me that Matt took his dad’s car and Roland and Buck showed up in what I assume is Matt’s mom’s car.

I shrug. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who pick their car
s
up in the morning from a place like this. Or they’ll have one of us drive. Jonah,” I quickly change the subject, “Matt’s going to be so mad.”

He nods. “Eventually he’ll realize this was for his own good.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” I say absentmindedly.

“Kennedy,” Jonah replies, grabbing my hand. “I’m the one who asked you to come. I should be the one apologizing. I had no business bringing us here. Neither of us should be here.”

“Are you worried that Roland and Buck will tell your parents?”

He shrugs apathetically. “I expect them to. I’m not worried about consequences from them so much.”

“Just from CU?”

He nods.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m on borrowed time there as it is, but I don’t care. I just want Matt to be okay.”

“I know.” Jonah squeezes my hand and returns his to his lap. “It might take a while, but he will be.”

He’s never going to talk to me again.

Not only did I show up at the strip club, and not only did I call Roland into the mix, but Matt’s
dad—
his archenemy—has gone in after him. For that alone I know he’ll never forgive me.

“Did you see anything while we were in there?” I ask Jonah.

He shakes his head. “No, you?”

“No,” I lie, yet again. I suspect he did, too.

A few moments of silence later, Jonah taps the window, drawing my attention to the front of The Pink
friggen
Pony. From there, I see two pastors, clad in jeans and polo shirts flanking the side
s
of a somber and swaying Matt. His head is down and he’s walking to the smaller SUV without much resistance at all. After they close Matt in the backseat, they exchange a few words, nodding to the Hummer, before Buck gets in the
smaller
vehicle with Matt and drives away.

“That was fast,” Jonah remarks. “I wonder what they said to him.”

Roland makes his way to the car quickly, and signals for both of us to get out. “Jonah, will you drive the other car back to the Wells place, please?” He produces keys from his pocket and drops them in Jonah’s hand.

“Sure thing,” Jonah answers.

“Is Matt okay? I mean … how is he?”

Roland shakes his head. “This is a tough one, guys. It’s hard to say how he is.”

“Is he going to be allowed back at school?” Jonah asks.

My eyes move to Roland’s and I silently beg him to tell me I don’t have to endure the rest of my time at CU without Matt.

He lets out a heavy sigh. “I think we all need to get some sleep.”

Jonah nods and walks to the Hummer, getting in and driving away slowly. I slide into the front passenger seat of Roland’s car, and lean my head against the window as he silently navigates us out of the parking lot.

“Are you okay?” he asks as we trek down an empty stretch of road.

I nod. “Because of the naked women you mean?” I saw more than what I allowed myself to admit.

He winces. “I mean because your friend is hurting.”

“He thinks he’s like his dad, but he’s also mad at his dad, and mad at
God
for showing his dad grace but not covering the whole family with it. Like his dad gets to walk away while they tend to the scars, or something.” I do my best to sum up Matt’s rant from several hours ago.

Roland shakes his head. “Buck doesn’t get to just walk away.”

“
I
know that, but I get what he’s saying, too. I used to think the same thing about you.”

“Used to?” Roland asks, pulling into the Wells’ driveway.

I nod, unbuckling my seatbelt and getting out of the car. “I was determined to hate you.”

“And now?” he asks, putting his keys in his pocket and walking around the front of the car, standing across from me.

I shake my head. “I don’t hate you anymore. I don’t think I ever really did, honestly. I’m sorry about tonight,” I add in quickly.

Roland runs a hand through his hair. “I wish you would have come to me right away, but I’m glad you eventually did.”

I snicker at the double-meaning
about coming to him that
I’m not sure he’s aware of.

“Come here,” he says, holding out his arms.

I do, and feel at home in his hug. It’s the most at home I’ve felt in weeks. It’s scary, and it’s tense, and uncertain. But it’s wonderful. “Did you call my mom?”

Roland sighs. “Not yet.”

“What are the odds we need to tell her?” I ask, stepping back. “I mean, what are the chances anyone but the five of us—six counting Matt’s mom—will know or need to know about this?”

Roland sighs again and starts for the guesthouse. “I don’t know how to answer that, Kennedy. I’m not only a parent that was involved tonight. I’m on the faculty of Carter University, the pastor of New Life …”

“And internationally responsible for, like, everyone,” I add, resigned, following him into the house and onto the couch.

He nods. “I have a lot of moral and ethical balls in the air here.”

“So,” I ask, breathless with oncoming tears, “what do we do?”

Roland lowers his head for a moment and then grabs my hand, eyeing me. “Pray with me,” he requests, not asks.

“Of course,” I answer without hesitation. I mean, it’s the least I can do. I can’t imagine the scene my mom may have caused in or around the strip club tonight. All Roland did was remind me over and over that I did the right thing.

Now I need to do the right thing for him.

With our heads lowered and eyes closed, Roland starts. “Dear Lord, please guide our actions and decisions over the oncoming days and weeks. We don’t know what your purpose in what happened tonight is, Father God, but we do know it’s written in your plan.”

“All things work together,” I whisper without thinking. Matt hates the scripture, but it’s the only thing that’s giving me hope right now.

“As you state in Romans, Lord,” Roland adds, picking up where I leave off, “that all things work together for good to those who love you and who have been called according to your purpose.”

I lose focus on what Roland is saying as he finishes the prayer, because I’m stuck on one bit of scripture. One thorny bit I’ve never given much consideration to before, because it hasn’t mattered as much as it does in this moment.

All things work together for good
to those who love God, is what the scripture says.