Chapter 9

9

VALERIE

T he constant buzzing of my phone wakes me from slumber. I’m still cradled in Reed’s strong arms, and even as I shimmy out from underneath him, he doesn’t stir. I grab my phone and tip-toe out of his bedroom, answering when I’m in the living room.

“Hello.” It comes as no surprise that Dad’s calling. I left home earlier under the guise of seeing our priest and haven’t given him any indication of what’s going on. But I didn’t expect my appearance on Reed’s doorstep to yield so much and never thought I’d be here this late.

“Where are you?” I expect anger but get panic instead.

I check the time. It’s quarter past ten. Too late to still be at the church but early enough that it shouldn’t cause suspicion. “I’m on my way home. Father Murphy and I?—”

Dad cuts me off before I have to come up with a life. “Hurry home, Val. It isn’t safe. Reed Murphy isn’t who he says he is.”

“What do you mean?” Maybe it’s the haze and fog of an abrupt awakening that knocks sense from my mind, but Dad’s words don’t resonate. Reed Murphy is strange, but I can tell he’s pure at heart. He might not be an upstanding preacher who came to our town to save the souls of the masses, but he sure has done for mine.

Even if saving isn’t one of the things on the list.

“He isn’t a priest.” Dad’s panicked tone grows more frantic with every word.

“I know.” Of course, Reed isn’t our priest. The guy who stopped by earlier is.

Although come to think of it, that was never explicitly said. It was my assumption based on the interaction we shared —the one that led to the intense passion we displayed all over Reed’s cottage.

“I met our new priest earlier. He was talking to Father Murphy.” I wipe the sleep sand from my eyes and shake my head, trying to clear it. “Dad, what’s this about?”

A deep sigh followed by a long pause follows my question.

“Reed Murphy is a killer,” Dad says grimly. “He’s wanted across New York for a job that went wrong with some mobster in Philadelphia.”

It couldn’t have been easy for him to say that. Dad hates bringing work home, and it pains him even more to tell me any of the darker details of his job. Luckily, there have been so few in Aurora that it’s never bothered him. But I can hear how deeply it’s hurting him to tell me this.

I’m his little girl, and he wants me to believe the world is full of sunshine and rainbows—even while he’s out there fighting against the darkness.

“What? How do you kno—” I stop speaking. My voice sounds foreign and far away.

“The priest you met earlier? He stopped by and mentioned it,” Dad answers before I get the question out.

Reed’s standing in the bedroom door now, arms crossed over his firm chest, with a quizzical look splashed across his face.

“Get out of there and get home. I’m on my way to his place,” he says. “I’ll send someone to the house to watch you.”

“Okay. I love you, Dad. Be safe, okay?”

“Don’t have to worry about me, pumpkin. I’m always safe.” Dad clears his throat before uttering, “I love you too, and I’ll see you for breakfast.”

He cuts the call.

“Is everything okay?” Reed tilts his head to the side. His stern features break with a look of concern, probably noticing the panic in my eyes.

“It was my dad.” I don’t know if I should feel sad, scared, or angry, but the concoction of all three fills me with confidence. “He told me you’re not who you say you are. You’re not a preacher but a…”

And as fast as it came, the confidence disappears.

“A criminal?” Reed’s eyes betray the strength he’s trying to portray.

“A killer.”

He doesn’t approach me, though I can see how his body fights against itself to stay put. Those golden orbs that earlier tonight couldn’t break away from me don’t dare lift to meet mine. He takes a moment to steady himself with a long breath.

“I can explain.” Reed’s voice carries the same conviction as it always does. Even humbled, he doesn’t show a sign of weakness. “If you’ll hear me out.”

“So, it’s true,” I scoff. Somewhere deep inside, I didn’t believe it. I wanted to keep viewing Reed as my dirty little secret. The man of God I tempted and seduced. Sure, that probably makes me fucked up in a different way, but his admission of guilt makes me feel like a fool. I never had any power over what was happening. I was using him, just as much as he was using me.

“It is, but you’ll have to trust that it was me or them. I’m not a good man, Valerie, and I won’t pretend I’ve ever been one. But being bad teaches you things that an honest life can’t. It was them or me, and I chose me,” Reed says. He’s not dancing around the point or trying to fight the accusations, but his words make me think he’s still trying to curry favor with me. “Everything I said tonight, I meant. I have to leave, but I still want you at my side. It doesn’t have to end like this.”

It doesn’t, but it should.

I don’t think anymore, allowing my body’s natural instincts to take control. Before I know it, I’m running from my place in the living room, out the door, and into the cold night air. I don’t stop sprinting until I’ve reached the church’s gate. I turn around to see if he’s chasing me, but he isn’t. Reed stands on his porch with hands on the railing.

I break through the gate and see headlights coming towards me. It’s probably Dad, and I breathe a sigh of relief. As shameful as it is to stand here in one of Reed’s shirts, I’d rather explain this to him than be trapped in this strange melting pot of emotions alone.

As the car nears, I notice they aren’t the familiar headlights of Dad’s BMW. The car slows on approach until it’s moving at a crawl. The driver’s window is rolled down, and the man inside is holding a gun against his chest, with the barrel fixed on me.

“Get in the car if you know what’s good for you,” he says, and the backdoor swings open.

In the distance, I hear Reed shouting my name. He’s begging and pleading for me not to get in the car, but what choice do I have? I step to the backseat, but before I enter, a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me inside. Terror clings to the back of my throat and chokes my breathing as the tires skid and we start speeding off.

And just like that, I feel the gaping void of leaving Reed’s side. Bad as he may be, there isn’t a person alive I’d rather be with now.

Not even my dad.