Page 98 of My Vows Are Sealed

“I was thinking about it too,” he agreed. “I could use a damn vacation.”

“You and me both,” I chuckled. “I’m just glad Darla’s finally out of school. I swear, I couldn’t even take a full breath every time she was in that building. He knew exactly where she’d be and when, so I’m just glad he never showed up there and tried to drag her back home.”

He sighed. “I have a theory about why he didn’t, but you’re not going to like it.”

“He wants to get her alone,” I said before he could. “He thought she’d already told someone at school about what he did to her and they’d call the cops instead of letting him take her home. So he’s waiting until she’s alone so he can have the upper hand.”

“Yep,” he muttered. “He might act all tough, but when it comes down to it, he’s a coward.”

Oh, no he wasn’t. He was prepared to kill Darla and Gloria. But he was patient and smart. He was willing to wait for the right time, when he could get away with it without consequences.

“No, he’s not. He’s a fucking psycho who threatened to kill his wife and daughter if they ever left,” I growled. “And somehow he’s got the biggest church in town completely fooled into thinking he’s the second messiah.”

“Not everyone. I don’t think that, and neither do Peter and Marie.”

Before I could come up with a response to that, I froze when I saw who was standing on the construction site talking to my Uncle Paul.

I almost didn’t recognize Ethan Smith. The last time I’d seen him, he was a bulky, but awkward fifteen-year-old with shaggy, unkempt hair, a blank look in his eyes, and a chip the size of Texas on his shoulder. But after he’d shown up at church drunk and high on the day we went to see Jars of Clay, his parents had sent him to military school, and we hadn’t seen him since, not even at church when he was home visiting.

Where there used to be disheveled brown locks on his head, now there was a buzz cut. His previously disproportionate frame had filled out and was clear proof of the physical demands of the school he’d gone to. And there was a spark of life in his eyes and a smile on his face as he chatted with my uncle.

“Is that…” Alex trailed off.

“Ethan Smith,” I finished for him.

Despite the time that had passed and the apparent one-eighty he’d done, I had absolutely no desire to be sharing breathing space with Ethan. There was no way he hadn’t had some idea of what Darla’s dad was doing to her, even if he didn’t know how bad it was. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have tattled on her every chance he got just because he liked to see her squirm. And obviously he hadn’t cared about what would happen to her once he told.

The problem was, literally everyone on this crew knew about Darla. None of them went to church with me except for Alex and occasionally my uncle, so they didn’t pose a threat to us. But Ethan? I still didn’t trust the little punk as far as I could throw him.

“Brendan!” my uncle called. “Come here for a minute!”

“What’d you do to piss him off?” Alex teased, shoving my shoulder.

I snorted. “Hell if I know.”

I tried to bury my simmering anger as I trudged in the direction of my uncle and Ethan, who I was guessing would be shadowing me for a while. Becausethatsounded like my idea of an enjoyable workday. Not.

“What’s up, Uncle Paul?” I asked.

“How many times do I have to tell you, when we’re on a job, it’s just Paul?” he said, smiling a little. “This is—”

“Ethan,” I clipped out.

“Hey, Brendan,” Ethan mumbled uncomfortably. “Been a while.”

I nodded at him and forced a smile, but I didn’t say anything else.

“Looks like you two already know each other,” Uncle Paul chuckled awkwardly. “Anyway, Ethan’s new around here. Think you could handle showing him the ropes?”

“Sure,” I muttered. “I hope you’re ready to work, Smith.”

He held up his toolbox, which I was surprised to see was stocked with good-quality, industry-standard tools. Most of the newbies who started with us had crap-ass hardware store tools that broke within three days. Those tools were fine for household jobs, but they weren’t built to withstand the use and abuse that they were put through on a professional construction site. The good tools, the ones that professionals used, were expensive, and most newbies didn’t spring for them when they were just starting out.

Okay, so Ethan had earned himself a few points in my book.

“Ready and willing,” he told me.

“Then let’s get to it.”

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