Page 55 of Blitz
“No.”
“You know she’s trying to blackmail you, ruin you, make you less than I made you.”
Now, it was her turn to squeeze my hand.
“No, you were the one who blackmailed me and ruined me,Pastor Cole.” I couldn’t call himFather; he wasn’t mydad. He was nothing.
“Prone to hysterics, just like your mother,” he told Sawyer, who smirked. Then Pastor Cole sat back in his chair, grinned at me, feral and smug, as though he held all the cards and was about to lay down a royal flush. The kind of grin that knew secrets and loved how much it hurt to keep them. Self-satisfied and cruel, it was the smile of a man who’d never been told no and didn’t plan to start now. He picked up the envelope and tossed it to Sawyer who fumbled the catch.
“Ungrateful,” he spat, standing now, voice taking on that slow, rising cadence he used at the pulpit. “I raised you. I made you into something. And this—this betrayal? For what? Lust? Sin wrapped up in rainbow flags and deviance. Don’t think the world will hold your hand, son. They’ll spit you out just like Sodom burned. I gave you purpose, and you traded it for corruption. You were meant to return to us and serve the Lord, not defile His design with your perversions.”
“Stop.” I stepped forward, wishing there wasn’t a desk between us. “You don’t get to twist this. You want to talk scripture? Fine. Start with ‘Fathers, do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged.’ And how about, ‘Husbands, be faithful to your wives’? Because I know what you did with Rebecca’s mom. Don’t pretend this is about righteousness when it’s always been about control.”
He sneered. “You quote as if you know the Word better than I.”
“No,” I said. “I quote as someone who’s done living afraid of it. I know enough to recognize when love is real and when it’s just a weapon.”
It had become a battle of scripture—me flinging lines about love, truth, honesty, and forgiveness. He countered with fire, wrath, and damnation. We could’ve done it for hours. Days. Years. And I would’ve kept standing there, hurling truth likestones, until he finally looked at me and saw something he couldn’t deny.
Me. Whole. Unashamed. Loved.
“I’m not for sale anymore,” I snapped. “I’m gay. I’m coming out.” Wow, that was the first time I’d said that, and the words felt right.
Rebecca leaned into me. “You are?
“I love him, Bec,” I said, using the nickname I’d given her in my head for the first time out loud.
“Ah, yes.” Pastor Cole sneered. “Thomas Fulkowski, the football player.” He plucked a sheet of paper from his desk and held it up with deliberate care. “National security number, social media logins, his old college transcript—even his gym schedule. You think your pretend-love makes you untouchable, son? I’ve known how to break people longer than you’ve been breathing.”
My temper cracked wide open. “Touch him and…” and what? Touch him and die? Right now, I could leap over the desk and strangle the man who’d raised me with so much hate and self-loathing.
“And what, son?” he said.
“Andnothing,” I said, and he grinned again.
“Good boy,” he said. “Now, if that’s all.”
“No, you don’t get it. Nothing—because I don’tneedto do anything for you anymore,” I said, voice rising with every word. “You threatened to lock me away, to convert me until I signed that damn contract at sixteen. You told me you’d lie about Mom—say she took her own life—to scare me into obedience. And I believed you could do that. But the thing is, we have the truth now. Proof Mom had cancer, proof you faked her healing with your bullshit sermons. A letter from her surgeon. Testimony from Rebecca’s mother, showing exactly how faithful you weren’t. And I don’t care if you sneer or dismiss me—I’m not that scared kid anymore. I’m not your puppet. Oh, and thatenvelope? That’s the new contract. I don’t owe you a single cent. You stay out of my life, and you keep my mom’s name out of your sermons. She loved me. She didn’t leave me because she wanted to. She left because she didn’t have a choice. And now? Ido. I’m done.” My chest hurt when I drew in a breath, because that had all spilled out in one go.
Pastor Cole’s jaw twitched. A flicker of something crossed his face—concern, maybe, a blink-and-you-miss-it hesitation—but it was gone just as quickly. He gave the faintest nod toward Sawyer, who moved closer and retrieved the envelope. “Again, nothing but hysterics.”
“My mom was kind and sweet, I remember that.”
“She was nothing, and I gave you everything. Structure. Purpose.
“No. You had a product. And I’m not for sale anymore.”
“Pastor,” Sawyer began, “this is something you should see.” He passed the papers to my dad, who pushed them away.
“That’s your job.”
“He’s threatening to sue the church,” Sawyer said, eyes flicking between the paper and Pastor Cole, “for fraud, emotional abuse, unlawful emancipation, and misappropriation of charitable funds. There’s testimony, digital records, and a forensic accountant’s report. This isn’t just a PR issue. This is federal.”
“You’re threatening me, boy?” he spat, voice rising with the fury of the pulpit. The air crackled with his righteous indignation, as if hellfire would rain down at his command. “I am the vessel of the Lord! Isavedyou from the filth, from temptation! I bled for your soul. Iburnedfor your salvation! And this is how you repay me? With slander and betrayal? Woe unto those who rise against the chosen!”
That was the moment the laughter escaped for real, but it turned into a choked sob, and Rebecca stepped in front of me, this tiny slip of a girl getting between me and a man full of hate.
“It’s not a threat,” she said.
