Page 21 of The Preacher's Pet

“Get out of my way, Roman.”

The warning in my voice should be enough to make him pause, but he doesn’t. He grabs my t-shirt, right at my throat, his fist bunching in the material, and walks us until I have my back against the wall.

What the fuck? I’m too surprised to react. We don’t fight one another. This is not like him.

His face is right up in mine, but he can’t intimidate me. His green eyes bore into mine, and I glare back, holding his gaze.

“I’ve been given a warning,” Roman growls, “and now I’m giving it to you.”

I shove him hard enough that he lets go of my t-shirt and stumbles back a few paces. His expression is one of shock, and it almost makes me laugh, except I don’t because this is no laughing matter. He’s seriously telling me I can’t talk to Ophelia again.

“Fuck you, Roman,” I spit. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

He shakes his head, as though he’s disappointed in me somehow.

“Are you really saying you care more about her than what we’re trying to build? The future we’ve discussed? We’re not here to learn college nonsense. We’re here to build our bodies,minds, and souls into powerful entities. Are you saying you’re willing to mess with that?”

It’s insane because I don’t know the girl, but he’s playing with fire because I already think I’m getting fixated on her.

“Don’t make me choose, Roman.” I shake my head. “You might not like the answer.”

Then I stalk out of the door, slamming it behind me.

Maybe he’s right, and Ophelia will destroy us. But if she does, it’s not because she’s broken or the universe told him so, but because Roman has given her far too much power in his mind. He’s worried about her affecting us, but she’s already affected him more than he realizes.

12

CAIN

I pauseoutside Ophelia’s room, my fist raised, and hesitate. Should I just walk away? She’s the past, and I’m building my future.

The Cain I was when I knew this girl was weak, and I never want to be weak again. In some ways, her being here makes me ashamed. She’s a walking reminder of the fact I used to be so scared that I’d climb in a girl’s window and sleep on her floor, just to feel safe.

Then I grew up, got big, bigger than my fucking dad, and worked out, joined the school wrestling club. Joined some underground fight clubs, and I always won. I was physically strong, then I came here, to Verona Falls, and I met Roman and Malachi, and together we worked on getting mentally strong too. Emotionally as well.

Roman’s views of the world, and his faith, for want of a better word, were a great fit for me and Mal. So over time, we forged a new way of looking at things. I don’t always believe as strongly as the other two, truth be told, but I must admit their way of living has made me stronger than I’ve ever been.

Now, I might be about to throw that mental and emotional fortitude away by bringing up the past and all its painful secrets.

I could walk away, but the girl behind this door was there for me when no one else was, and it seems like she needs a friend now.

She’s tiny, too thin. Her eyes are haunted. She wears clothes that look like she made them herself, yet I know her family has money. The girl could be dressed head to toe in Gucci, if she wanted. I know the reason behind it must have to do with where she’s been for the past six years. I’ve always believed my life has been hard, and I’ve done my best not to feel sorry for myself but to use it to make me stronger instead. But whatever has happened to Ophelia has done the opposite, and I need to know more. Someone has hurt her, and it makes me want to kill them.

Mind made up, I rap on the door. At first there’s no answer, and I can’t hear any movement inside, but then there’s a quiet, “Yes?” from the other side of the door.

“Ophelia, it’s me.”

Then I shake my head at my own stupidity. I’m sure my voice has changed a lot since she knew me. “Cain. It’s Cain. I just … can we talk?”

There’s a long pause. Long enough that I turn to walk away, but then the door opens and she’s standing there. For a moment, the college walls around us disappear. Her features are a time machine taking me back to a past I prefer to forget.

I can almost taste the endless summer days, and the pain of the broken bones I got later that year.

“Cain.” Her expression is hard to read. Cautious, mostly.

“Ang…Ophelia.” I almost use the pet name I gave her years ago. I called her Angel then. Or Fee, which is just short for Ophelia.

Angel had been a joke at first. It hadn’t been because of how she looked, although now, she looks more angelic than ever, so it fits. But it had been because of what she was doing. Snow angels,but in long grass. Somehow it had become a name that stuck, and yet, it doesn’t feel right calling her it now.

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