was sixteen I found a relationship with Jesus. I lived with my grandma by then. She was too sick to help much, but I had friends. They took me to Young Life meetings and to church on Sunday.” Her smile grew, and the light shone in her eyes again. “I realized I could have as much Jesus as I wanted. He was the only addiction that would make life better. I met Art the year after that — at Bible study.”
“Jesus is faithful.” Cody nodded slowly. “I learned that living at the Flanigans.”
A curious look danced in her expression. “The Flanigans?”
For as much time as he’d spent with Cheyenne, he still hadn’t told her about Bailey and her family. Before the accident, he and Cheyenne had just been getting to know each other. And since then they’d been consumed with her rehabilitation. He sucked in a quick breath and stared at his coffee for a long moment. Where could he begin? “I didn’t find Jesus as quickly as you did.” He hated this part of his story, … but there was no way around it. “I began drinking in middle school. My mom actually taught me how to make mixed drinks.”
“See?” Cheyenne still had her hands intertwined with his. And now she ran her thumbs over his. “Alcohol’s a drug. Only drugs would make a mama do that.”
It was true. Cody nodded, and drew his hands gently from her. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked for a way to tell the story quickly. “By the time I was a junior in high school I was an alcoholic. Binges … blackouts … the whole thing.” He kept his eyes down at the table, somewhere near his paper cup. Moments like this he was back there again, standing on the football field with Jim Flanigan confronting him. “I smelled like alcohol at practice, and my coach, Jim Flanigan … he realized my situation.” He uttered a regretful laugh. “By then my mom was back in prison, and I lived alone. Coach Flanigan … he invited me to live with his family. I lived with them until I left for Iraq.” He smiled, not wanting to talk about the Flanigans now. “At one point I nearly died from drinking.” “While you lived with them?”
“Yes. I had to be hospitalized.” His tone held the shame he still carried over that time. “After that they helped me see what you just said. We all have a hole in our hearts. We can try to fill it with a lot of things … but in the end only Jesus fits.”
“Yes.”
“So that’s my story.” He hoped his smile made her see there was nothing more to the story. But in every situation, Cody had found Cheyenne to be perceptive, and this was no exception.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “There’s more to the story.” It wasn’t a question. Cheyenne simply knew. “Do they … do the Flanigans have a daughter?”
It was like she could read his heart, like everything he’d done or felt was so clear to her she didn’t need to ask. She already knew. He hesitated, but then he nodded just barely, only enough so that she would know she was right. “Yes … they do.”
“So that’s it …” She eased her hands from the table back to her lap. Her careful smile told him she wasn’t hurt by his revelation. Rather it was like the pieces finally fit. “I knew someone had a hold on your heart, Cody Coleman. I wondered when you might trust me enough to tell me.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. Not once had he intended for this date to involve a discussion about his past. But now that’s exactly where they were headed, and Cody wanted to divert the conversation — any way he could. Tonight was about Cheyenne, and the celebration of her life. Not about Bailey and him.
But she was still searching his eyes, the understanding still dawning within her. “What’s her name?”
He sighed, and leaned against the padded side of the booth. “Bailey. Bailey Flanigan.”
“You still care about her.” Again it wasn’t a question. But her tone politely asked for more details.
“Yes. Always.” Cody understood why this mattered. If he wasn’t here out of sympathy, and if he enjoyed being with her … then what about his past might stop her from letting herself have feelings for him? She had a right to know. “Things changed between us. At the end of last year.”