Page 87 of Wrap Around
Something feels off.
I glance at Lily. She’s standing beside the car, Addy nestled against her shoulder. Her eyes scan the trailer, then settle on mine. She nods once, reassuring me that she and Addy will be fine.
It’s all I need.
I jog down the dirt path alongside the Shepherd’s house and up the porch steps to knock on the door. It creaks open to reveal Sister Paula, who looks like she sucked a lemon just for the occasion. Her face always had that pinched, holier-than-thou quality, but it got worse after Lily and I made our announcement. I don’t suppose I could have expected any better after we left.
“Ma’am,” I say, polite on autopilot. “Is Gideon here?”
Her expression curdles. “If he’s got half a brain left in that defiled head of his, he’s at the church. Where the good pastor can set him straight.”
The door slams in my face before I can reply or ask any more questions.
I don’t like the sound of that. Not one damn bit.
The church isn’t far, but the midday heat is heavy and humid, and between the jet lag and adrenaline still buzzing in my veins, mylungs are burning by the time I get close. I slow down just as I hear shouting.
Stepping up to the main chapel doors, I push one open to look inside. Gideon is standing halfway down the aisle, squared off with his father near the pulpit. The room is full of simple wooden pews and sun, the rays like spotlights on the wooden floor. It’s almost as hot in here as it is outside, and the air is thick with tension that reeks of desperation and rage.
Pastor Shepherd has a Bible raised like it’s a weapon. His voice booms through the rafters, righteous and terrifying. It’s a voice that has followed me throughout my life, just as much as my own father’s. It’s also the very voice that I know torments Gideon in his nightmares.
“You’ve been possessed by darkness! That’s why you ran. Why you gave your life to that… that godless pursuit!”
I pause in the doorway, chest heaving, sweat prickling down my back. I know this man. I know that tone. It could mean anything—professional sports, queerness, ambition in general. The man hates anything that doesn’t answer directly to him or his perception of God.
But Gideon isn’t on his knees.
Not this time.
He’s standing tall, trembling, but unyielding.
“It’s not the devil, Dad. It’s the gay.”
The silence is instant and electric. The pastor reels back like he’s been hit, gasping audibly.
Gideon lets out a low, bitter laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s not contagious,” he sneers. “But it is terminal.”
He takes another step forward, eyes burning. I can feel his pain, his desperation for understanding and the smallest drop of acceptance. “I fought it every second of my life here. Prayed for salvation. Punished myself for even thinking about the love I felt. I hated myself. Every. Single. Day. And you made sure of it.”
His voice softens. “But not anymore. I met someone.Thesomeone. And when I’m with him, I don’t feel sick. I don’t feel shame. I feel—” he draws in a breath. “I feel like maybe God didn’t make a mistake with me after all. That He meant for us to be together.”
It’s the most peace I’ve ever seen on his face. He looks unbreakable.
The pastor doesn’t see it. Or maybe he does, and that’s what enrages him.
He lifts the Bible higher and shouts, “You dare mock the Lord? You will BURN, Gideon. You will be cast down with the rest of the monsters, the fornicators and idolaters!”
“You’re wrong!” Gideon bellows, stepping up onto the first step of the altar. “You’re the monster. You made me believe I was broken. You made me afraid to love.”
That’s when I move. I cross the aisle fast and reach him, placing a hand gently against his chest. His eyes snap to mine, and just like that, the fear and rage leeches from his expression. He covers my hand with his own, breath catching.
For a moment, nothing else exists. Just us.
Then the pastor wheezes like he’s been stabbed and clutches his Bible to his chest, looking up towards the ceiling like he expects it to cave in. He mutters something frantic and urgent.
When his eyes drop back to us, they’re wide and unhinged. “Repent,” he says.
Gideon’s lips twitch into something too broken to be a smile. “Is there any part of you that can love a son as imperfect as me? Who could accept me as God made me?”
