Page 38 of A Surefire Love
He rubbed his forehead. Sure, he could’ve said those things. Part of him had wanted to, even. But how close was too close? She was a wildfire, after all. “Sounds like you don’t need me for anything.”
Blaze huffed. “One of Sydney’s friends made you out tobe this insightful, evolved man, but you’re like all the rest, aren’t you?”
A pit of discomfort opened in his gut. “Why were you talking to Sydney’s friends about me?”
She sighed and straightened the chairs. “They were at The Depot wondering what you would do for your anniversary.”
“Anniversary?”
Her hands froze as she turned wide eyes toward him. “You didn’t forget, did you?”
He and Sydney had been dating since last September. Just over a year ago. He schooled his features and took the deepest breath he could without giving away his panic. How had he forgotten? If Blaze was to be believed, no one else had.
“One of them thought you’d propose. I guess Sydney was wise not to buy it.”
Propose? Shock rocked him forward. He covered by reaching under the couch for the final item. Given his intentions of eventually marrying Sydney, the idea should’ve occurred to him. He wasn’t about to dissect why it hadn’t with Blaze, of all people. He tugged at the large object by his feet.
An all-too-familiar wad of fabric slid out from under the couch.
“Is that a sleeping bag?” She left the last chair askew as she approached him. “What is all that?”
An excellent question. The only church activities that required a sleeping bag were retreats and summer camp, neither of which were any time soon.
“Has someone been sleeping here?” Blaze’s question echoed his own suspicions.
“Or hanging out. I found a bunch of empty wrappers a few weeks ago. I’ve been locking the room ever since. This sleeping bag was in the closet across the hall. I put it in lost-and-found. Someone claimed it almost immediately.”
“One of the kids brought it back here and hid it?”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and surveyed the room from where he kneeled beside the couch. Disappointment and worry tightened his back. “I don’t know. I never leave this room open and unattended for more than ten or fifteen minutes.”
She crossed her arms. “That would be enough time.”
“To hide it. Not use it.” He lifted the sleeping bag. Looked clean. Didn’t stink.
“Which is good, because some of the Branching Out students are couples, aren’t they?”
He groaned and dropped the bag. No student would go that far at church, right?
She squatted nearby and picked up a candy bar and the apple. “What do we do about it?”
He braced his arm against the couch and ran possibilities. “There’s an extra key in the spare key lock box, so I’ll start there. If that’s a dead end, I’ll ask the students. And the leadership board. They have keys to the lock box, so indirectly they—or someone with their key—could access the youth room.” He rose to stand beside her. “Have any students expressed problems that might lead them to look for a place to hide out? Maybe Hadley?”
“Hadley?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why her?”
“She loves attention.” Lately, she’d been calling Anson Dad. It started when he instructed some students not to run in the hall.
“Okay, Dad,” an eighth grader had said.
Over the next half hour, a few of the others copied the boy. When Anson didn’t react, everyone except Hadley dropped it. Two weeks later, she still crooned it at him once or twice each Wednesday night.
Blaze frowned as she set the food down.
“She’s not acting out in dangerous ways,” he said. “I’m glad she’s coming to Rooted. But she goes out of her way to be the center of attention. Sometimes that’s a sign of a problem. I don’t know if it’s a sign ofthisproblem.” He nudged the sleeping bag with his foot. “But we have to consider it.”
Blaze scratched her temple. “I hate to think of any kid feeling like they need a backup plan like this, let alone one of the younger students.”
“Me too. But we owe it to the kids to get to the bottom of this, and that means considering the possibilities.”
