Page 66 of All My Broken Pieces

Shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, I shrug. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s important to my parents, so here I am.” It’s not a lie, just an omission of certain details.

He studies me for another moment before returning his dark eyes to mine, something in them that I hadn’t noticed on our first date. I shiver and it has nothing to do with the light breeze.

“Well, I, uh, I better go find my mom and dad.” I say lamely, excusing myself from the uncomfortable situation. As I walk away, I can still feel his eyes on me and I know deep down I made the right decision to steer clear from him.

“There you are!” My mom calls, beckoning me over as I step inside the foyer. She proceeds to spend several minutes bragging about me and myaccomplishments. Which mostly consist of doing well in school and howproudshe is that I’ve “found the way” again.

I stand awkwardly, being the trophy child she always wanted. Glancing up, I spot Scarlett watching from across the room, a scowl on her face.

Trust me, I wish this was you instead of me too.

That’s the thing about love with conditions, you can’t ever measure up. So when you don’t meet the arbitrary expectationsset, you quickly become replaced by someone else who somehow is meeting them. No matter how ridiculous it sounds.

A part of me actually feels bad for my sister the longer I’ve been forced back into this world. I had forgotten how painful and chilly it was on the outskirts of our parents' adoration in comparison to the warm glow of their love when they’re happy with our decisions.

I try to offer Scarlett a small smile, a peace offering, but she turns on her heel and stomps away, her husband following obediently behind her. Sighing quietly, I turn back to my mom and her chatter as I count the minutes till this whole ordeal is over and I can go home once more to drown my misery away.

The announcement that service is about to start echoes in the crowded hall and we all funnel into the chapel. I slide into the pew beside my mom and dad, fidgeting with the hem of my dress as it rides up my thighs.

We aren’t seated for long as the worship band makes their way onto the stage. Song after song plays, singing the praises and worshipful love for a god I’m convinced doesn’t care. I peek out of the corner of my eye to find my mom’s hands raised high, tears streaming down her face as she tilts her head back, eyes closed.

“My soul cries for you, my soul yearns for you.” The crowd sings, belting the lyrics with their whole hearts. “Jesus, lover of my soul, in you I am made whole.”

I gulp, my chest constricting as the melody elicits a nearly violent need to get out of here. Mumbling an excuse I know won’t be heard over the speakers, I snatch up my purse and stumble out of the chapel.

“Need a break too, huh?” A familiar voice sounds to my left as the door swings closed behind me.

I glance over and find Logan leaning against the wall, jerking his head toward the closed doors. Smiling awkwardly andshrugging my shoulders, I lie, “The loud music hurts my ears sometimes.”

He looks at me intensely, his eyes darkening further as he contemplates his next words. “You know,” He murmurs, pushing off the wall and coming to stand directly in front of me. “I have some smokes if you want to come join me?” He whispers the question, a playful grin on his face that reminds me so much of how he was on our date.

I glance behind me, chewing on my lip as I debate my options. Finally, I look back at him and smile with a nod. “Okay, sure.”

Anything has to be better than spending another moment listening to close minded, hateful people singing about unconditional love when they don’t know what it even means to really love and be loved without conditions.

Following behind Logan, we sneak out of the church, laughing as we sprint across the parking lot to a secluded section tucked away in the far corner.

I don’t know what I was so worried about, he’s obviously just a good guy. Probably forced to be here just as much as I am.

I smile at him when he offers me a cigarette, placing the white stick between my lips and leaning forward as he flicks on his lighter. Inhaling a heavy drag, I immediately start to cough, waving in front of my face as I lean away.

Logan laughs, lighting up his own cigarette and drawing in a lungful of smoke and releasing it like a seasoned pro. “You really don’t smoke often, huh?” He chuckles.

I shake my head, attempting another pull with the same results. “N-no.” I cough, glaring at the tiny rolled up nicotine. “Not really my thing.” Sighing, I give up on it, offering him the cigarette and opting instead to dig my own personal vice out of my bag.

His eyebrow raises as he watches me knock back a mouthful of liquor. “Hidden flask. Aren’t you rebellious.” He snickers, holding his hand out. “Can I?”

I shrug, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and handing it over. My eyes watch his lips as he swallows down the alcohol, his throat working draws my focus. When I shift my gaze back to his, I find him watching me closely, the same heat in his eyes as I had seen earlier.

He hands over my flask and I take another quick drink before putting it away. “We probably should get back.” I mumble, regretting my decision to come out here alone with him.

After what I went through, I should have known better than to trust a man alone in the dark.

“Oh, come on.” He replies, reaching out and gripping my wrist when I turn away from him.

I glare at his hand on me. “Let me go.” I demand, tugging against his grip.

“You still owe me.” He tightens his hold, something in his tone has my pounding heartbeat speeding up.

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