Page 2 of Loving the Sinner
What a loser you are when even your seventeen year old sister has a boyfriend and you don’t.
“I know Lukey.” She coos, “I just don’t think my parents would ever let me come visit Texas by myself. You know I would come in a heartbeat, but they’d never go for that.” She turns her blue eyes on me, and I try not to flinch at how similar she looks to Packer’s new child bride. Though Izzy’s hair is naturally light blonde, not dyed, and her body is the result of endless theater performances, not a strict workout regimen and diet. They’re literally like a year apart though, and that’s…disconcerting to say the least.
My stomach turns and I suppress the urge to gag thinking about Izzy marrying someone my age after she graduates.
Thank goodness Luke is the same age as her.
But her conversation gets me thinking. Texas is a good distance from Utah…
What was the name of the city Luke lives in?
San…something.
I pull out my phone and do a quick Google search and find it.
San Marcos, Texas.
It’s a quaint little city. A quick rental search shows I can get a one bedroom apartment for a reasonable price.
The gears start turning and a plan starts forming immediately, as if it’s been in the back of my head waiting patiently for me to acknowledge it.
If I move to Texas, it gets me away from my overbearing parents, from the toxic Utah culture, and Izzy can come visit her boyfriend more since I’ll be there to “supervise.”
Maybe I’ll even meet a cute cowboy who’ll like my curves and extra bits. We'll fall in love and get married and live happily ever after.
Yeah right.
If I wait until Izzy’s done with school in June, she can drive out with me and see Luke for a while before shestarts her summer activities, plus it gives me about five months to secure a place to live and plan thoroughly, rather than tossing my stuff into a duffle bag and hoping for the best.
Is this idea kind of crazy?
Probably.
But I deserve to live a little crazy.
Looks like I’m going to need a cowboy hat.
Chapter 1
Wes
There are only three reasons why someone should be banging on my door at 7:43 on a Saturday morning.
One, Maya Hawke has come to profess her undying love for me and is offering me a spot on her next tour.
Two, I won a lottery I didn’t know I entered and someone is bringing me a million dollars.
Three, someone is dying.
Crossing my fingers that it’s one of the first two, I begrudgingly roll out of bed, quickly swiping at my phone to see if there are any urgent messages. When I find my notifications empty, I groan as I drag my half-naked ass to the door. Whoever it is better not complain about my lack of clothes, consideringtheyare interrupting my beauty rest.
As soon as I open the door I’m greeted by a familiar fidgeting boy with a mass of curly brown hair and big brown eyes.
Luke.
Panic sets in immediately because Lukealwayscalls or texts when he comes over, and he’s never contacted me before ten o’clock on a Saturday.
“Luke. What’s wrong?” I demand as he shoves his way into my apartment, nervously pacing in the small living room.
