Page 82 of Unbound
I stared at the phone, ice forming in my stomach. Jesse had heard my side of the conversation. He was staring at me with wide, terrified eyes.
"What did he say?"
I couldn't lie to him. "That they're not givingup."
Jesse curled into himself on the couch. "I should have known. I should have fucking known they wouldn't stop."
"Hey." I sat beside him, pulled him close. "We're not giving up either. Whatever they're planning, we'll be ready. You’re not going anywhere.”
But lying in bed that night, Jesse finally asleep against my chest, I wondered if we really could be ready. How do you fight people who think God is on their side?
16
JESSE
Iwoke to chaos in the living room.
Voices, urgent and overlapping. The television volume cranked up. Phoenix shouting something about the news. My body moved before my brain caught up, stumbling out of Adrian's room in yesterday's clothes, heart already hammering.
The entire group clustered around the TV. Diana had her hand over her mouth. Sam was pacing behind the couch. Elijah stood frozen, coffee mug halfway to his lips.
"What's happening?" I asked, but nobody answered.
Then I saw the screen. Breaking news banner. My parents' faces behind a podium bristling with microphones.
"Kansas Church Defies Court Order, Transports Adult Son to Montana Conversion Therapy Facility."
My heart stopped. Did they somehow take me in my sleep? Was I dreaming? I looked down at my hands, touched the wall behind me. Real. I was here, in the house, safe.
Then whose son?
The news anchor continued: "Anthony Whelan, nineteen, from Topeka Covenant Church, was transported yesterday evening to the Restoration Ridge facility in rural Montana..."
Anthony Whelan's photo flashed on screen. Sweet-faced kid with freckles and scared eyes. Two years younger than me. I knew him from church, from youth group before I left for college. Quiet boy who'd confided in me once during a church retreat, voice shaking as he admitted he thought about boys the way he was supposed to think about girls.
I'd told him to hide it better. Pray harder. Keep his head down.
Now his parents stood beside mine at the podium, a united front against judicial tyranny.
My father's voice filled the room: "We will not be intimidated by activist judges. Our children's souls are more important than man's law. We call on all God-fearing families to stand firm against this assault on religious freedom."
"They took someone else," I whispered, stomach dropping into free fall.
Adrian appeared beside me, still half-asleep but alert. "They're making an example. Showing they won't back down."
The room spun slightly. Anthony Whelan. Nineteen years old. Probably never kissed anyone, probably spent his nights crying into his pillow and begging God to fix him. Just like I had until Adrian had awoken something within me.
And now he was on his way to Restoration Ridge because of me.
Because I'd kissed Adrian on that stage. Because I'd run instead of submitting. Because they needed to prove a point.
"Jesse?" Diana's voice seemed to come from underwater. "Jesse, you're hyperventilating."
The walls closed in. Vision tunnelling. This was my fault. If I hadn't kissed Adrian, if I hadn't been a coward, if I'd just gone home and submitted like a good son...
Anthony Whelan would be safe in his dorm room right now instead of strapped to a gurney in some facility van driving through the night toward Montana.
Phoenix pulled up more coverage on their laptop. "Public outcry's huge, but there are legal complications. Anthony is over eighteen. His parents have the right to seek treatment for him."
