Page 49 of The Friend Game

“Maybe it was Jill or Max,” he suggests.

“Maybe,” I agree noncommittally. The thought of Marshall has soured my mood; the shame he left behind in me rearing its ugly head.

“Hey, are you okay?” Luke asks.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” I lie, because I can’t tell him the truth. Not when the truth would surely drive him away. There may be a lot of things Luke can overlook when it comes to the things that make meill-suited to be a pastor’s girlfriend, but this one, the scar Marshall seared across my chest, it might be too much for even kind-hearted Luke to look past.

So I don’t tell him. Instead I end the phone call and lay back on my pillow, staring up at the ceiling as guilt tears through me. I’ve agreed to go out with Luke once his contract is up, but I’m harboring not one, but two secrets from him—both of which could absolutely be dealbreakers. I should just end things now. It would be better for both of us.

My phone lights up on my nightstand and I grab hold of it like it might be God texting me with an answer to all my problems.

It’s not God, though.

It’s Luke.

He’sprayingfor me.

My heart flutters in my chest, because dang it if that’s not the sweetest thing I’veever heard.

He’s praying…for me.

The image of Luke with his eyes closed and his hands folded together as he speaks to God aboutmecomes to mind and I have to fan my face as warmth rushes through my body.

Other than my dad, no man has ever told me that they’re praying for me.

Now that one has, I don’t think I could ever settle for anything less.

Oh no.

I am such a goner.

Chapter 19

“WOW, THIS IS SO pretty!” Kylie, a new addition to our after school art club, says as she sets down the easel she carried out here.

“It’s okay I guess,” Toby, one of two boys in the art club, sniffs. He dumps his easel on the ground then holds up his paintbrush in challenge to Musa, the other boy, because obviously paint brushes are actually just mini swords in disguise.

Before they can begin their epic sword fight I step between them and grab Toby’s easel off the ground. “Let’s set this up, shall we?” I suggest.

I spend the next five or so minutes helping all of the students set up their easels and arrange their canvases on them. We trekked all the way over to this back corner of the school grounds because the other day Sydney and I took a walk during our lunch period and discovered that one of theneighboring houses has an absolutely stunning grove of orange trees. As soon as I saw the bright orange of the fruit beginning to appear on the trees I just knew this was a scene worth painting.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” Mia asks nervously as she arranges her paints.

“Of course I’m sure,” I say cheerfully. “We’re on school grounds.”

“The very edge of school grounds,” Mia says, eyeing the orange grove house nervously.

“Mia’s just nervous because that’s where Scary Miss Sherry lives,” Toby supplies, making his voice go spooky around the name.

“Scary Miss Sherry?” I say dubiously. “Really?”

“He’s right, Aunt Hannah,” Ellie pipes up. “That’s what everyone calls her. One time these older boys snuck off over here during recess to play with the noise poppers one of them snuck in and she found them and dragged them back up to the school by their ears.”

A couple of kids around the circle start nodding like they’ve heard this story too. I laugh, albeit a little nervously.

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration. You can’t just drag two kids by their ears for almost a quarter mile.”

“That’s how the story goes,” Agatha says with a shrug.

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