Page 90 of Fight

I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re right, I don’t know what you’ve been going through.”

“I’ve been going through hell—all alone. You left me no way to contact you! I understand you’re trying something new, but you need to come back now. They’re going to expose everything if you don’t return. You know what that means for me.”

Any color in my face quickly melts away as I imagine what could happen to him. I don’t want to go back there. I worked too hard. But Jonathan is facing a worse fate. It was my decision toleave, but he’s being punished for it. I always said I’d protect him. My presence was his only shield, and I took it with me when I left.

“My career, my family, my medical license, our home.” His voice breaks. “My life will be over.”

But mine has just begun. A hard lump forms in my throat. He sits across from me, but my glare is stuck to the floor while he goes on.

“I promise, it’s not forever, okay?” I wish myself back in the fire tower with Callahan. I wish he was with me right now. I’d rather digest the news with him nearby. Jonathan continues, “I swear, I’ll get on board, but if we leave, we have to do it right… Let’s just go back, lay low until this all dies down. I told them you would come back with me, and that we’d work harder this time.”

I meet his gaze, but it feels like I'm looking through him.

“I mean, did you really think you could just sneak away in the middle of the night without tying up any loose ends? It’s not that easy.”

Why does everyone think what I did was easy? Did he think me leaving him was easy? Being homeless was easy? Hell, I’m still clawing my way out.

I had plans for my future. Plans for Callahan, plans for my career, plans for exploring the Pacific Northwest, I even had plans for that fucking house on Spencer Avenue. Sure, some were more far-fetched, but others were so close I could hold them—I held those plans for four nights, but now they’re slipping through my fingers.

“Luke 15:3-4,” he says.

Angry blood surges through my veins at his mention of the scripture. I raise my chin to meet his sympathetic eyes. My throat burns, and I swallow down the bile. I want to scream, berate Jonathan for not leaving, for being such a coward.

What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he loses one ofthem, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost until he finds it?

“The Fold doesn't represent the word of God,” I spit.

He stares at me blankly.

Swollen tears blur my vision. “And how will you rejoice when you return with their lost sheep?”

“I won’t rejoice in this.”

After a few breaths, I settle some of the fury inside. I have to remember this isn’t Jonathan’s fault. This is The Fold’s doing. He’s been facing a persecution I’ve never known. In the end, he needs protection more than I do, and I couldn’t live with myself if I was responsible for something happening to him.

“Why can’t you just stay? Places like The Fold are considered cults by the outside world. Did you know that? People say it’s acult.”

He rolls his eyes. “Christianity isn’t a cult, Scottie.”

“Maybe not, but The Fold is,” I argue.

“I can’t just up and leave my life like you can. Why couldn’t you just wait until we were both ready?”

“Because what if you never left!? We’ve talked about this, multiple times! You never showed an inkling toward wanting to leave. Was I supposed to just wait forever? One of us had to make the first move.”

“This time I’ll leave. I promise.”

My face falls into my hands. I’ve never despised The Fold as much as I do right now. I clear emotion from my throat.It’s not Jonathan’s fault. “You said we could just lay low until we tie up loose ends… How long?”

“A few years.”

I shake my head and scoff. “Absolutely not,” I disclaim. “One.”

“They might?—”

“One, Jonathan. And your clock starts now.One. Not a day later.”

“Okay.” He concedes, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, Scottie.”

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