Page 141 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

“Good. Really good.”

She nods, shifting on her feet, her hands in her back pockets. “That’s good.” She blows out a breath, rocking back on her heels. “This is awkward, huh?”

A laugh bursts out of me. “Fuck… yes. I’m glad you said it.”

She giggles. “You excited to start your new gig? Not long now.”

My stomach clenches, my muscles locking tight. “Yeah. I can’t wait.”

She watches me, her gaze softening the longer she stares. “You nervous?”

“Yep.”

She steps closer, and I can feel the heat of her body wrapping around me, offsetting the slight chill from the evening breeze.

“They’re gonna love you,” she whispers. “You’re meant to lead, Eli. Don’t forget it.”

My chest splits at her words—at the fact she just knows what I need to hear.

“Yeah, hope so.” I run my hand over my hair. “How about you? I heard about your parents.”

“Yeah.” She swallows thickly, glancing at her feet. “I’ve been lettin’ them use me for a long time. Now I’m free of that, so I’ll be alright. I’m a little sad though.”

I nod, my hand scratching the scruff on my chin. “Takes a lot of guts to do what you did. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Too bad it took me so long, huh?” She smiles.

I shrug. “Better late than never.”

“Right.” She scratches at her temple. “Listen, you.” She reaches up, tangling her fingers through her hair. “You asked me why… and I never really gave you the answers you deserve. If you’re still wantin’ to know, I reckon it’s far past time for me to tell you.”

My gut clenches, the closure that I’ve been craving suddenly close enough to grasp. “You know I do,” I rasp.

She nods. “I lived my whole childhood lookin’ up to two men. My old man and the big guy up in the sky.” She points above her head. “And then I experienced my first heartbreak when I caught Papa with Sally Sanderson when he shoulda been home with my momma.”

My stomach sours at the thought of her finding him that way. Of all the repercussions that could have on any person, let alone a child.

Maybe I should be shocked, but I can’t say I’m truly surprised. Preacher Sanger puts on a good facade but if you look close enough, it’s easy to see through the mask.

“And from then on when I looked at my momma,” she continues. “I saw a broken woman, tricked into a life by a man who spun pretty lies and trapped her in his web.”

My chest squeezes. “So you’re saying…”

“I’m sayin’ I was afraid of what it meant to let myself love you. To let myself be loved.” She swallows, glancing at the ground before meeting my eyes. “Have you ever let someone in, let someone else’s words become your gospel?”

My heart stalls, images of all the times Pops’s words gripped me tight and never let go, even after I had been gone for years.

I nod, my jaw clenching.

“Papa may be the preacher, but it’s Momma who writes the scripture. And together they…” She blows out a breath. “Together they twisted me up so good I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. It’s not an excuse.” She shakes her head. “But it is what it is. I loved you so much.” Her eyes glisten, her tongue swiping along her lower lip. “And it terrified me.” She smiles softly. “Still does if I’m honest.”

My heart jolts, thumping against my chest at the thought of her loving me—of her never having stopped.

“I’m workin’ on it, though. On me. I’m learnin’ to separate who I’ve always been told to be with who I really am. Learnin’ how to not let my fear of the future overpower my happiness in the now. That’s all any of us can really do, right? Is try.”

I swallow, my mouth sluggish while the missing puzzle pieces start to click into place. And while it doesn’t make the past disappear, it does bring me peace. A blank hole that’s been filled with a sense of understanding.

“Anyway.” She sighs. “It was real nice to see you.

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