Page 8 of Bones

I didn’t move.

I squeezed my eyes closed like that would magically change the bizarre color difference of crystal blue and the darkest black.

I inhaled like that would magically bring me peace.

I prayed like that would magically make my real family appear.

For the millionth time in the six months I’d been there, I thought about running. My legs literally tingled with the need to flee into the woods I’d been rescued from. Not that I would. I couldn’t even get near clusters of trees without panic freezing my breath in my lungs.

“You okay, Aurora?”

I jolted at the question spoken from close to my ear. My lids shot open, and I turned my head to see my youth pastor. “Uh, yes. I’m fine, Pastor Jackson.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “I’ve told you, call me Ryan. If you insist on formality, I’ll settle for Pastor Ryan. But Pastor Jackson makes me feel like I’m a decrepit old man.” He grinned. “Which I am, but I don’t want the reminder.”

He wasn’t an old man. Not like Pastor Gideon or the other elder members of the church.

In his mid-twenties, Pastor Ryan didn’t dress in the same stuffy suits the other men wore at all church functions. He favored stylish suits for Sunday service and casual clothing for everything else. His brown hair was always just a little overgrown and messy, even right after a cut. He was six feet tall—towering over my five foot nothing—lean muscled, and…hot.

He wassohot.

It felt wrong to notice it, and I would never say it out loud. Not like Claire. She and her friends talked in detail about how staring at the sexy pastor was the only good thing about attending church and youth group.

But that wasn’t true. He was nice to look at, but everything he said was worth listening to. He was smart. Kind.Sweet. The way he spoke so sincerely made it feel as if he was talking only to me.

It took me an awkward moment to find my equally awkward words. “Right. Pastor Ryan.”

“You sure you’re okay? Is there anything you’d like to share?”

I nodded before shaking my head, leaving me looking like a bobblehead. “I mean, yes, I am okay, and no, there’s nothing to share.”

His jaw clenched. “You know you can trust me, right?”

I didn’t know that.

I didn’t trust anyone—including myself.

How could I? I was clearly insane.

A freak.

“I know,” I lied.

He smiled, but it looked forced. “We better get inside. I’m available to talk later if you change your mind.”

When he gave my arm a friendly squeeze, an image of him kissing me popped into my head.

Unlike the other glimpses I got, I didn’t have to tell myself it was my imagination. I was absolutely certain it was my own sinful creation.

That didn’t stop it from spiking my heart rate and my temperature.

Feeling unworthy in so many ways, I followed the pastor inside.

Maybe today’s topic will help me feel less alone in the crowded room.

I shot awake.

Blinking sleep from my eyes, I sat up and tried to figure out what’d woken me.

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