Redemption (18 page)

W
hen Cassidy woke the next morning, she wasn’t sure if the night before had really happened or if she’d dreamt it. She rolled onto her back and pulled the covers up, trying to block the cold air from entering the bed. She remembered dinner being wonderful. She remembered dancing with Bryan. She remembered kissing him. There was no way she could forget kissing him. She covered her grin with the covers. Today he was picking her up for church. Then it would just be the two of them. This was surreal.

She stretched and reached for her alarm clock to check the time.

“Crap!” she yelled. She threw back the covers and jumped from bed. Cassidy had about forty-five minutes before Bryan pulled in the driveway for her. She’d overslept. Just. Perfect.

Thankfully the rest of the family had gotten up on time. The inviting aroma of coffee and tea floated up the stairs from the kitchen below. It would be hard to resist a cup. She paused in her mad dash to the bathroom when she heard laughter and voices. Cassidy stood for a moment and listened to her aunt, uncle, and cousin talking. She couldn’t make out the words, but that wasn’t important. The love behind them was evident. It made her grateful to be a part of this particular family. She missed her own parents, but having people like these made her loss a bit easier to bear. She continued toward the bathroom, a pile of clothes in her arms, thinking about Bryan and wondering what kind of family might be missing him today.

When the doorbell rang, Cassidy jumped. Fifteen minutes earlier, she’d sent Carrie and Nick on ahead, assuring them that Bryan would be picking her up. Smirking, she recalled their conversation as she’d herded them out the front door.

“Bryan? Are you talking about Roemer?” Carrie had asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” Cassidy had repeated, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “He’s coming with me, and then we’re going out for the day.”

Carrie had frowned. “How’d you manage it?”

“Manage what?” Cassidy had known exactly what her cousin meant, but she didn’t need to give her that satisfaction. It was always more fun to make Carrie say what she was hinting at outright.

“In all the years he was with Miranda, I could never get either one of them to go with me. Derek was all it took for her. Now, in a matter of days, you’ve convinced Bryan. I must be losing my touch.”

Cassidy had laughed. “I’m sure that’s not the case.”

Now he stood in the doorway, looking painfully handsome in his dark jeans and tan sweater. He never zipped his coat, she noticed. Cassidy wondered what would happen if she slid her hands inside it, pushed it from his shoulders, and pulled him into the house by the sweater. She bet that it would be good - very, very good.

Stop. Church. Behave
.

“Hi,” she said, still smirking.

“You ready?” he asked.

She reached for the coat she’d slung on the railing and nodded. “Now I am.” Impulsively, Cassidy took his hand. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

“Well,” he began, “I figure if the place doesn’t collapse the second I step foot inside, we’ll be in the clear.”

Cassidy shook her head and laughed.

If only I was joking,
Bryan thought miserably.

 

The church withstood his footsteps crossing the threshold. It even held up as he walked across the foyer and entered the sanctuary. Although they most likely weren’t, Bryan felt like every person was staring at him, reading each sin he’d ever committed like it was tattooed on his skin. When he tensed, Cassidy put her arm around his waist and squeezed. For that, he decided she was even more wonderful. He looked at her face, so warm and welcoming.

His heart swelled and a pain in his chest made Bryan flinch. Instead of the usual tearing that he’d become accustomed to, this felt different. Almost as if the pieces of his heart were beginning to mend. Forming new tissue. Connecting. Becoming whole again.

That would be you, too, Cass.

She was in every thought he’d had since waking that morning. He was powerless around her, completely unable to pull his eyes from Cassidy’s face. She was his peace in the storm, his personal refuge from all that had threatened to rip him apart.

Across the room, he saw Carrie seated with Nick. Miranda and Derek were with them. True to her word, Cassidy chose a seat near the back, on the opposite side of the church. He could easily make a quick getaway if necessary.

“Bryan, relax,” Cassidy whispered. “It’s just a church service. Lasts, like, ninety minutes.”

Ninety minutes. That was thirty longer than he thought he’d have to endure. He smiled down at her and nodded. A band began to play in the front of the church. The music was much more tolerable than Bryan had thought it would be. No droning whatsoever. And the singers could actually sing. He sat back, relaxed the tiniest bit, and listened. Cassidy stood without warning, and he followed. This was all very confusing but so far painless.

After a few more songs, some guy in a bad suit making announcements, and a very long prayer during which Bryan looked around at the architecture of the building, the pastor got up to speak. He looked like a normal guy. Actually, he looked pretty cool. Shaved head, goatee, big enough to hold his own in a fight. He seemed like someone you could go for a beer with, talk about things, sort out life and its mysteries. Bryan might not mind listening to this guy after all.

The pastor began his sermon with a story. He had verses projected on the screen, gave enough interesting information to tie it all together, and even interjected a few jokes. So far, so good. Bryan was even enjoying what he had to say. He relaxed a bit more, put his arm around Cassidy, and read what she was writing in her notebook.

How adorable is that? She takes notes,
he thought.

This whole church thing was going along smoothly. Bryan took a breath. Maybe he could handle this.

The final words from the pastor’s mouth caught him off guard. His mind had drifted, only half-paying attention. The guy was wrapping things up, getting to the point. His entire sermon had been encouraging, talking about the love of God, His mercy, His faithfulness in good times and bad. Then he looked at Bryan, and it felt like the man saw through him into his soul.

And what he saw there was dark, black, and torn to shreds.

“Remember the words of Psalm 34:18, ‘The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’ Take comfort in that promise. No matter what pain you have had in life, no matter what you have done to numb it, He is always near to you. And He will save you. Cry out to Him, and He will be there to mend your broken heart and wounded spirit.” The pastor paused. “He will answer your cry.”

The pastor launched into a closing prayer, but all Bryan could focus on was that he had to move. He had to get out of this place where complete strangers were able to look into his deepest parts and speak right to him. What had seemed manageable had now become creepy, and he just needed to go. Cassidy’s head was bowed, and he didn’t want to disturb her. His foot tapped impatiently. The instant he heard the word
amen
, he made his move. Swiftly, he slid out of the pew and headed straight out the doors.

Today was the coldest day so far, and Bryan swore he could smell snow in the air. The sky was gray and cloudy, which mirrored his mood accurately. He flipped up the collar of his coat to cover his neck and began pacing. The door opened behind him, and Cassidy rushed out.

“What happened? Are you okay?” she asked. “You just took off.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” he answered, not leaving room for negotiation.

“All right.” Cassidy picked up speed to catch up to him. “Bryan! Will you slow down?” She grabbed his arm to stop him.

He spun to face her. “I don’t
do
church for a reason, Cassidy. I came here because you asked me to. Now, I want to get the heck out of here.”

Cassidy’s eyes widened. He was really angry. She wasn’t sure what triggered it, something the pastor said, seeing Miranda, maybe just a weird look from someone in the church. The cause might be a mystery, but she was sure of one thing. She needed to calm him down.

“That’s fine, Bryan,” she said, hugging him, hoping it offered some measure of comfort. “Let’s go.”

He bowed his head to her shoulder and hugged her back. He shouldn’t have unleashed on her; that wasn’t fair. He’d find the words to explain. Her scent swirled around him in the wind. Vanilla. So sweet, like her. He inhaled and smiled.

“If God’s up there, He’s gonna be mad at me for the thoughts I’m thinking about you right now, Cassidy Baker. We’d better get out of here before the lightning bolts strike.”

“You’re such a flirt. Anyway, I think we’re okay. He’s big on forgiveness,” she said. He could tell from the sound of her voice that she was smiling.

Her soft laughter soothed him, a balm for his wounded heart. Bryan couldn’t believe the intensity of what he felt when he looked at Cassidy. How could he have ever thought he’d found this with Miranda? His relationship with her had consisted of rescue and being reachable. He waited for her to call. He took whatever bits of attention he could get from her. He showed up, time and again, to save her from her life and herself.

And she’d been grateful. She’d been his best friend. She’d relied on him and depended on him. But, she’d never loved him as anything more than a brother. Her eyes had never shown him what Cassidy’s did. When Cassidy looked at him, the world stopped spinning. She never asked what he could do for her. She wanted to take care of him.

You deserve to have someone take care of you,
Miranda’s voice came to him from the past.

He could see it now. With the exception of what he’d found in Miranda’s friendship, none of the other women had ever truly cared
for
him. They’d enjoyed what he could do for them, or to them. Even Mara. It wasn’t about his heart with her. There were other parts of his anatomy that she’d rather have a relationship with. But not Cassidy. He smiled upon remembering her words.

You’re too thin. You should find someone to take care of you. Does she take care of you?
Over and over, Cassidy’s primary concern had been his well-being. It made him want her even more. Not for a good time, but to build a good life.

T
he words of the pastor replayed in his mind as though on a loop, a never-ending, irritating loop, and Bryan was starting to get cranky. He didn’t want to think about God being there for him when the Big Man hadn’t ever seemed like He was before. Where was God for the past six months when his life was crumbling, his heart shattered, and his spirit trampled? The pastor had it wrong, all wrong. His mood was quickly becoming more sour, and Cassidy seemed to have picked up on it. She sat beside him in the Jeep, her attention focused on trees and houses and anything not Bryan as he drove.

He wasn’t sure what to say to her yet. He just wanted a drink. Then he wouldn’t care about talking. There was something appealing about the numbness he’d been trying hard to avoid for the past two days. Wrong response. He had to shake it off.

“I don’t miss this cold,” Bryan said, trying to break the silence, banish his mood, whatever.

“I bet not,” Cassidy agreed, still looking out the window. She didn’t know what to say. He obviously needed to talk about something; she just wasn’t sure what that might be. So she waited for him to give her an opening.

Frigid days like this used to have moments of comfort. Bryan’s mind time-traveled back to when he was younger and still lived with his parents. They’d never fully understood their sullen, artistic son. They were kind, generous people for whom conflict and chaos were too difficult and too messy to comprehend. They thrived on order, and Bryan had always been the antithesis to order.

“Soup,” he stated abruptly. His mother had always thought a warm bowl of soup would melt whatever kept her son frozen inside.

“Soup?” Cassidy asked.

He shrugged. “On cold days like this, my mom always made soup.”

“Well, I could eat soup. I’m pretty sure I saw a Panera when we went to your hotel the other day,” she said.

“That’ll do.”

“Do you plan on seeing your parents while here?” Cassidy asked tentatively. At the moment, he was so unpredictable. She didn’t want to set him off.

“No.”

“No?”

Bryan drew in a slow breath. “They’re good people, my parents. It’s just that they won’t really know what to do or say to me right now, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary. I just don’t have the energy for it. Plus, they’re huge fans of Miranda. It’s a conversation I don’t want to have.” He clenched his jaw.

“How long has it been since you’ve talked to them?” she asked, thinking of her own parents and wishing she could see them, talk to them, have just one more day. Grief was a funny thing. Time didn’t really make it any easier, only different.