Page 76 of A Surefire Love
You’re not broken.
Anson had told her the same thing, and she hadn’t believed him. Had the Lord prompted Dr. Van Blair to repeat the phrase?
“ADHD does have downsides,” he continued. “But again, they are treatable—very much so—and there are also benefits to the way your brain works. People with ADHD tend to be great problem solvers, creative, charismatic, and highly empathetic.”
She chewed her lip. Was she those things?
The doctor tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her, as though sensing he’d lost her. “It might take getting used toafter a lifetime of thinking differently, but your brain is a powerful asset, Jennifer.”
She dabbed the tissue at a fresh cascade of tears. That little girl in her kitten sweater embraced the compliment like a long-lost teddy bear.
The doctor scrolled on his tablet. “For example, as a performer, you have the audience eating out of your hand—that’s charisma.” Philip must’ve written that. “You also showed charisma as a salesperson and again when you landed the management position. I think with the right treatment, you can happily stay in that position because, with focus, you can complete the administrative side of things in a timely manner. Then you’ll be free to spend more time with customers and your team.”
She took a deep breath. These were all good things. Better things than she’d hoped for. So much better, she almost couldn’t accept them.
Thank you, Lord.
So much about her life made sense now. So many of the disappointments and judgments and struggles—all things she’d blamed herself for—lifted from her shoulders.
“There’s still a process ahead of us.” Dr. Van Blair set aside his tablet. “But since you’ve already made a number of lifestyle adjustments, what do you say we figure out where to start with medication?”
“We still haveten minutes on the clock.” Anson motioned at his dash.
Blaze’s eyes crinkled with a smile, and she nestled deeperinto the passenger seat beside him. “What’s left to talk about?”
Night had long since fallen, and most of her neighbors’ houses were dark. He and Blaze had been together for hours. Over dinner at The Red House Grill, they’d discussed everything from her diagnosis to caring for the rabbit. If Blaze hadn’t promised Marissa she’d be home by eleven, he could’ve talked to her all night. How had they been in each other’s orbits almost half of their lives without him realizing how special she was? How had he spent so long settling for sensible when magical was an option?
Blaze tipped her head against the rest. “The only thing I can think of is your job. How are you going to get the numbers the board wants?”
His chest tightened. He’d had a different idea about how to spend the last few minutes of their date, but at least he had an answer for her. “I’m going to propose something else entirely. Something you inspired.” He reached across the center console and squeezed her hand because, yeah, he couldn’t stop touching her.
Her eyebrows lifted. Even in the faint light of the streetlights, she was as captivating as a flame. “Me?”
“You came to MOBC because of an afternoon tea. We still have some events like those, but we don’t advertise them to the community. I’m going to suggest we do family fun nights once a month with a marketing budget behind them. Game nights. Competitions. Crafts. Maybe there’s some skill we can teach in a workshop, but …” He traced a finger over the back of her hand.
Blaze dipped her head and caught his eye. “But?”
He cleared his throat. He’d much rather focus on her than work. “No lesson. Maybe an opening prayer, but otherthan that, we’ll just be there to connect with people so they know where we are when they need us.”
“Like I did.”
“We could use more people like you.” He shifted his hand, and she interlaced their fingers.
“I never used to think you were that big of a fan—but if I’m not mistaken, you washed your car for tonight, and this is a new sweater.” She smoothed her hand across his chest.
“You caught me.” In more than one way. “You make me better, Blaze.” The compliment earned him another grin and a lingering kiss before he walked her to the door and bid her good night.
Back at his own house, Anson was too keyed up to sleep, so he hopped on the treadmill. Afterward, as he plugged in his phone to charge, it buzzed in his hand. He limited late-night notifications, but he hadn’t blocked them all so church members could reach him in emergencies. He lit the screen and squinted at the icon—an alert about movement caught by the youth room camera.
He scrambled to tap the app. The church lights must be off, because the live feed showed the youth room in the grayscale of infrared. Nothing moved. Nothing appeared out of place. He clicked over to the recording that had been captured two minutes before.
The youth room looked the same as it had on the live feed, except something moved past the narrow window in the door. He played it again. A person in a hoodie had walked by. He enlarged a still frame. With the hood up, he couldn’t see enough of the face to recognize the individual, but that was definitely the start of the wordRootedprinted down the sleeve.
The visitor was one of the students. Urgency pushed him back into his coat and to his car.
He found the building dark and still. “Please let me help whoever it is, Lord.”
He approached the building and tugged the handles at both principal entrances. Locked. He let himself in with his key and walked through the entire building, turning on all the lights and trying all the lesser-used exits. All locked. Every room empty. Having played Capture the Flag and Sardines with students in the building, he knew kids could be hard to find, especially in the sanctuary, where they crawled under rows and rows of seats.
