Wrath (Sinful Secrets 4)

“I don’t understand. The issue is he’s…not in his dorm?”

“Well, for three days. And she—his mother—can’t get in touch with him.”

“Why is that an emergency?”

“I don’t know, Joshua. That’s not the point. I called to let you know. To keep you informed.”

“Because he’s my ex?”

“And your stepbrother. And…” The line goes quiet. “His mom said he’d been back in the hospital. For mental health.”

“What?”

“I knew you’d have that reaction.” Her voice sounds high and strained. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“When?”

“When did he go to this place? She said it was right after he came to her house.”

“She sent him to inpatient?”

“She told me he asked to go,” my mom says sharply.

Tears fill my eyes.

“He wanted to go. He struggles with his mental health. That’s the concern, Josh. I don’t want to trouble you. I just wanted you to know.”

“To know what? That he’s not safe and no one knows where he is? That his dumb fuck mother couldn’t even keep a cell phone on him that she can track from her phone?”

“Joshua.”

“Well, she is a dumb fuck! If she can’t do that. How the hell will they find him now?”

“We’re—” I hang the phone up. Look over my shoulder. The pledge meeting is still going, but I can’t stay here. I slide my phone into my pocket and jog up the house’s tree-lined driveway.

Ezra

July 30, 2019

He’s nice and it’s okay.

Everything is jumbled in my mind.

I can go to sleep—just for a little bit.

I’m in a chair in a bedroom in their house. I’m here inside. The guy didn’t kick me out. Vance Rayne. He has a baby.

He told me he loves Luke McDowell. And also that he isn’t into hurting people.

How’d he know to say the part about he didn’t want to hurt me?

I fall sideways into the roar of my thoughts, like pitching on a carnival ride. Thoughts turn into dreams.

I’m on the bed in the clinic room at Alton, not strapped down because I can’t move. There’s a tube in my nose.

Paul is over my bed, smirking, taunting me. I can’t swallow the food. When I can’t eat, he shocks me with the shock stick. I hate how it burns.

Someone’s shaking my arms. Fuck! I try to get them off me, but I can’t. I’m too weak…

I open my eyes to a face I think I know, but I’m not sure where from. Then everything from last night rushes back. I realize I’m crying, and Luke McDowell, the famous TV pastor, is holding my shoulders, looking at me with wide, surprised eyes.

Fuck.

Then Vance is jogging into the room. He’s right beside Luke, and he’s looking at me in this…way…that makes me want to look down. “You okay?” he asks.

I shift how I’m sitting, looking at my lap as I wipe at my eyes. I try to shrug, and Luke McDowell lets go of me and his husband Vance Rayne puts a hand on my back.

“You’re okay,” he says, all quiet and nice, like he’s a family member or a good friend.

He says something to Luke—I think he sends him to check on their baby—and I think the pastor goes. I don’t know for sure because I’m still stuck in the dream. It’s this thing that happens sometimes, where I know I’m not back there but my body doesn’t. My heart’s racing, and I feel all weak and shaky.

“Hey, dude. What’s up? Or down?” Vance asks me.

I feel sick, but I say, “Nothing.”

“You remember last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like you ate some of the chocolate chip cookies,” he says, still standing right by me. “That’s good. Water too?”

I flick my gaze up at him. “Are you my nurse?”

“Nah, man. Just checking in. You have a nightmare?” he asks. “Or you just upset?”

I blow a breath out, looking down at the rug. “Nightmare. I’m not upset.”

I’m a stalker, and my stalkee has a boyfriend. Now I want to hang myself—since Xanax doesn’t work.

“Okay,” he says. “I guess you met Luke.”

“Not really.”

“He’ll probably be back in just a second.”

“I don’t care if he is.” I rub my lips together, feeling dumb and fucking crazy for this. Why’d I come here?

“Yeah?” he asks. “You wanna tell me anything about how you wound up in the hall last night? What sorta things brought you to our house? I don’t know if you noticed, it’s kinda hard to get in.” I can hear the smile in his voice even though I’m looking at my lap.

“Yeah,” I force myself to say. “I noticed.”

“You come to talk to Pastor Luke?” His tone is gentle, like he knows I’m fucked up. I don’t like it. I don’t like anything. I should be dead.

“Sorry to trouble both of you,” I tell him, looking up. “I’m ready to get going now.”

What follows is a long list of the reasons Pastor Luke’s new husband, the poetically named Vance Rayne, thinks I shouldn’t go. He acts like he wants me here, like the two of them have nothing better to do than help me out. Especially if I’m gay—that’s what he says.