nine AM. He lifted his head, and his eyes landed on her. “What about church?” she asked, staring into her lap. She was unable to make eye contact with this new, tainted, ruined Jim.
“I already called in with the flu.”
“Right.” She snorted. Her eyes stayed down. Disappointed in him for lying, on this day of all days, to the church. Jim Zavarian. Pastor and Saint. Jim. Who revived his church after someone almost shot him. Who loved to lead his parishioners. Who freaked out about having sex as if it were murder. He worried no end about how it could affect his career.
Now? He outright lied. Passed out drunk and almost dead. Hung over. He preferred to make the bottles of booze his priority, instead of showing up at church for his loyal congregation. Had he done this before?
Often? How could she miss that? Did Kathy know?
No. If Kathy had any inclination about it, she would have told her.
“Are you hung over?”
“Yeah.” His head flopped forward and he stared downward.
“Why are you sitting on the floor?”
“Felt sick. When the dizziness hit, I just stayed there.”
“This is what? Day four? Of your? What do you call this? A binge? A bender?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“I don’t want to.”
She scowled and pushed off the covers. They sure needed a good washing, along with Kayla, right now. “Damn it. Do you have any idea how much you scared me? I haven’t heard from you in four days. Nothing. Not even a single text. I got worried. And then I found you like this. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you an incurable alcoholic? Do you do this often? Am I that stupid?”
He didn’t look up. “No, you’re not stupid. I’m sorry. No one’s ever worried about me before. I didn’t think…”
“Of me? Believe me, I know. You usually don’t.” She sniffed and tears filled her eyes and put pressure on her sinuses. “You made it sound like sex with me was one notch below demonic possession and all that time… you were doing this?”
Jim stayed quiet. She flung the covers back and dropped her feet down, fully ready to huff her way out of there. Maybe forever. And never let him hurt her or touch her or tempt her again with what she almost wanted from this man.
He was always wrong for her. So wrong. Not her type at all. The glasses? The infinite collection of books? The Bible quotes and the fact he was a freaking pastor. He had guilt complexes about normal sex. And now, she did too. He made her doubt herself and now she felt weird about sex. His mixed signals could literally change on a minute’s notice: first he didn’t want her and couldn’t do that with her, and then he had to have her and only her.
Whatever. She didn’t need or want that.
So enjoy your bottles, Pastor Jim.
But Jim did what he always did: he sent her a mixed signal. Jumping to his feet, he reached out and caught her just as she went past him. His arms wrapped around her front and he pulled her back to him. His head descended while his mouth, (thank goodness, he’d brushed his teeth), grazed her temple with a kiss. “Don’t leave me.”
She was weak and stupid over this man, so she wilted in his hold. Her body let his take hers and she gripped the hands that embraced her. “Why not? You’ll just lie to me and tell me this is nothing. That I’m the problem and the reason why you’re not pure or whatever.”
“No. No. You’re not. It’s all me. My problems. I told you… I had baggage. I just… didn’t know how to tell you about it.”
She pushed him off her. “Just one time, you better tell me everything or I’m gone for good. Forever. I’m sick of your shit. And this? Oh, no, no way are we going back to status quo. I’ve had to do that way too much with you.”
“I know. You have.” He released her and flopped down on the floor again, leaning his back against the wall.
Surprised, she sat on the floor opposite him, with her back against his bed. He didn’t look at her, but stared again at his toes. “I don’t know where to even start.”
“Somewhere. Anywhere. Just start by saying something honest.”
He nodded. Sniffing, he finally said something she could have never suspected he’d start with. “My name isn’t Jim Zavarian. Well, not legally. I mean,