Page 24 of Body and Soul

I stepped into the room and blinked in surprise. It was larger than I expected, with high ceilings and a big bay window that overlooked the city skyline. Soft gray walls and dark hardwood floors created a soothing, neutral backdrop. A queen-sized bed with a plain white comforter and a mountain of fluffy pillows dominated one wall. On the opposite side, a dresser and a small desk sat waiting to be filled. Built-in shelves lined the wall above the desk, bare save for a few decorative succulents.

It was a far cry from the cramped, cluttered bedroom I shared with Hal back at the apartment. There, I was lucky if I could find a clear spot on the floor to set down my backpack amidst the piles of dirty laundry and discarded beer cans.

“This is your space,” Gavin said from behind me. “Feel free to decorate it however you'd like. Posters, art, photos—whatever makes it feel like home to you.”

Home. The word felt foreign. I'd never had a place that felt like home, not since I was a little kid, before the cult. Even then, thememories were hazy, more like half-remembered dreams than reality.

I turned to face Gavin, my brow furrowed. “Is Shepherd for real?” There was always a catch; I knew that much by now. No one ever justgavewithout wanting something back.

Gavin regarded me with his cool, assessing gaze. “Shepherd is a man of his word,” he said simply. “If he says he wants to help you, he means it. There's no ulterior motive, no hidden agenda. That's not how he operates.”

I shook my head, still struggling to wrap my mind around the concept of unconditional generosity. In the cult, everything came with strings attached. Every kindness was a manipulation tactic, a way to keep us compliant and under control.

“But why?” I pressed. “Why would he go to all this trouble for someone he barely knows? Someone like me?” My voice caught on the last word, all my insecurities rising to the surface.

Gavin's expression softened almost imperceptibly. “Shepherd sees something in you,” he said. “Something special. Shepherd rarely connects with anyone as deeply as he has with you, but when he does, he doesn’t hold back. Shepherd gives himself fully, even if it means taking on someone else’s darkness. It’s how he is.”

I looked away, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. The idea that someone could see worth in me, could believe I had potential beyond being a fucked-up cult survivor, was overwhelming.

Gavin sighed and came a little further into the room. “Don’t expect puppies and rainbows, Eli. Shepherd… he has his shadows, his own burdens, and they’re not easy. There will be days he’ll test your trust, days you might wonder what you signed up for. But if you stay, if you get through those times, you’ll be stronger for it.”

I let Gavin's words sink in, trying to reconcile the image of Shepherd as a stern taskmaster with the gentle, patient man who had offered me a haven without hesitation. It was hard to imagine him having a dark side, but I supposed everyone had their demons. God knows I had plenty of my own.

“I guess I'll have to take it one day at a time,” I said finally, my voice sounding steadier than I felt. “See how it goes.”

Gavin nodded, apparently satisfied with my response. “Do you have a cell phone?”

I fished my phone out of my pocket and held it up.

“I’ll give you my number,” he said, pulling out his. “That way, if you need to talk or if you have concerns, you can reach out. Plus, that’ll make it easier on me if I can get in contact with you. I’ll know what I’m walking into every day.”

I handed Gavin my phone, letting him program his number into it. When he handed it back, I stared down at the screen, my fingers hovering over the contacts list for a second longer than necessary. The names in my contacts list were few, and those I could trust… fewer still. Holding the phone felt strangely heavy, like it represented something more than just another connection. It was a lifeline, maybe—but one I wasn’t sure I knew how to rely on.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, pocketing the phone.

Gavin studied me for a moment. “You’ll be fine here, Eli. Shepherd’s not perfect, but he’s straightforward. He wants to help, and that’s all you need to focus on right now.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say. My life had flipped upside down in a matter of days, and while part of me wanted to believe things could get better, another part of me was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’d been given hope before—just to have it ripped away.

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” Gavin said, breaking the silence. “Dinner should be ready soon.”

He turned to leave, and I stood there for a few moments, staring at the closed door. Alone again. But this time, the space around me didn’t feel suffocating. It felt... open.

I sank onto the bed, running my hand over the soft comforter. It was ridiculous how something as simple as a bed could feel so foreign. The weight of it all pressed down on me—this new life Shepherd was offering, the uncertainty of where it would lead, the uneasy feeling that none of this could be mine.

Maybe Gavin was right. Maybe Shepherd was different. Maybe I didn’t need to worry about hidden motives. But trust had been beaten out of me a long time ago, and the idea of trusting someone, even someone as kind as Shepherd, felt like walking into a trap.

As I sat in the quiet of this room that felt nothing like mine, I felt the strange pull of wanting to believe in something again. Maybe even someone. It was dangerous, I knew. But in the dim quiet, a fragile sliver of hope began to spark. Still, an old instinct warned:Don’t relax, not yet. Not ever.

I leaned back on the bed, letting my body sink into the mattress, the softness enveloping me. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt a soft, delicate glimmer—a small thread of hope I barely dared acknowledge, lest it break. It was almost enough to make me believe.

And yet, even as I let my eyes drift closed, my mind whispered a warning:Don’t get too comfortable. Not yet.

Dinner went better thanI’d expected.

Eli had eaten every bite of the spaghetti I made—more than I thought he would, given how fragile he'd looked when I first brought him home. His appetite surprised me. With each forkful, the tension in Eli's shoulders softened, and I found a quiet satisfaction in watching him relax—even if only over a simple meal. For the first time, he didn’t seem so distant, the silence between us settling into something almost comfortable.

As soon as the plates were empty, Eli rose to gather them, along with all the other dishes from the table.

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