Page 36 of Preacher Man
And I didn’t know what scared me more.Living without him for another week.Or him coming back and pretending like none of it ever happened.
* * *
The drip from the fellowship hall sink had turned into a steady leak, one of those obnoxious, rhythmic things that made you want to bash your head against the wall just to break the pattern.
I was crouched beneath the basin, flashlight between my teeth, hands deep in the guts of ancient plumbing that should’ve been replaced five pastors ago.
Somewhere behind me, the church air conditioner wheezed like it had emphysema, the only sound besides the occasional creak of the old building settling.
I finished tightening the final fitting and gave the pipe a slow twist, checking for leaks.
Nothing.
Good.
I sat back on my heels, rolled my shoulders, and sighed.My shirt was damp with sweat, my jeans smeared with whatever passed for grime under a church sink, and I probably smelled like mildew and despair.
Then I caught my reflection in the window above the sink.
At first, I didn’t recognize the man staring back.
Unshaven.Puffy-eyed.Dark circles like bruises under both eyes.
There was a hollowness in my face that hadn’t been there before.A sharpness to my jaw, not from weight loss, but from tension.I looked like I hadn’t smiled in a year.
And the worst part?
I couldn’t remember the last time I had.
I turned away, swallowing the lump rising in my throat, and packed up my tools in silence.
The walk through the sanctuary felt longer than usual.Every pew stared at me.Every hymnbook felt like a relic from a version of the world that didn’t include me or Ethan or people like us.
Outside, the sun was merciless.
I headed toward my truck, keys in hand, telling myself I’d done enough for today.Sink fixed.Door inspected.Time to go home and resume my scheduled programming of lying in bed and hoping for death.
But then I saw it.
The trailer.
Ethan’s trailer.
That dented-up tin box they’d stuck their preacher in like he was a utility they could just plug in on Sundays.
It was ugly as hell, but now it looked worse.Lifeless.Quiet.Abandoned.
And yet…
I couldn’t stop staring at it.
My feet slowed.
My chest ached.
What if he left something behind?
Something small.A scrap of paper, like a note.
