The Broken Ones (Jesus Freaks #3)

by Andrea Randall

  I peer around his shoulder to find Eden, but she’s chatting it up with Max, offering me a small wave with a goofy smile.

  Weird.

  “If you must,” I say to Matt of his insistence to walk me home.

  “I must,” he replies with mock chivalry.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say as we walk across the back lawn of New Life, which will drop us in Roland’s side yard. “And, even if I did, nothing was awkward.”

  Matt shakes his head. “Jonah’s got it bad for you.”

  “Shh!” I smack him again.

  “Stop hitting me! I need this body for the team!”

  I roll my eyes. “What would they ever do without your brawn,” I tease.

  Matt lifts his eyebrows, trying to look serious. “Not much, I can tell you that.”

  “Anyway,” I redirect us. “I don’t know about bad, but I do know that he wants to ask me out. And, I also know I don’t want to be having this conversation with you,” I say as we reach Roland’s. I suppose I could call it my house now, but I’m trying not to be too possessive.

  Matt slaps his hand across his chest. “I’m hurt,” he says with a laugh. “Why don’t you, though? I’m your friend, right?”

  I crinkle my nose. “But you’re a boy. And, as liberal as we all know I am, some things are better left for friends of the ovary-carrying variety.”

  Now Matt crinkles his. “Nice image.”

  “See you at church tomorrow? New Life, I mean. I know you’ve been cheating on it with the UC.”

  Matt drops his hand and throws his head back in a laugh. “Yeah, that’s when I was throwing my massive temper tantrum. And it’s easier to nap during the UC services.”

  “You can nap at New Life, too, I guess.”

  Matt arches an eyebrow. “With you up on stage? Not a chance, K. Sawyer. Not a chance.”

  Rolling my eyes, I reach for the door. “I’ve seriously gotta go to work. But thanks for walking me home.” I turn the knob and slip through the side door. “Oh, Matt?” I ask, poking my head back out.

  He turns around, hands in his pockets. “Yeah?”

  “You’re okay with this, right?”

  He shrugs, silently asking, “What?”

  “I mean, it’s not, like, weird? I’ve asked you out before, you broke my heart.” I laugh, making the whole thing sound matter-of-fact. He gives a half grin. “I just want to make sure you’re, like, okay with this whole Jonah thing. Though it’s not even a thing. I’ll stop rambling once you answer…” I arch an eyebrow.

  Matt walks a few paces to reach the door, nudging it open with the toe of his boot. Placing his hand on my shoulder, he looks into my eyes for a few long seconds. Saying nothing.

  “Of course,” he finally says in a near-whisper. “I am your friend, and Jonah’s a good guy. I want you to be happy, Kennedy. Of course it’s okay.”

  Placing my hand over his, I give it a light squeeze before he walks away.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Matt

  No, it’s not okay. It’s not okay at all.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Always

  Kennedy

  “Ready for your big performance tomorrow?” Asher asks over the loud coffee grinder. He lifts the impossibly heavy bags and I push the button. It’s a system I’m happy with.

  I stick out my tongue. “It’s not a performance, you know that. It’s worship.”

  The overriding theme in many of our practices has been how to keep ourselves humble. How to keep the attention on worshipping Jesus and not expecting accolades for our abilities. This, admittedly, will be hard for me. I was pretty competitive in high school and couldn’t, for the life of me, understand why someone would want to get up and sing in front of people and be happy with no applause.

  But, I’ve been told it really is about worshipping in our faith, and the music is one avenue to help people get in touch with God.

  Asher grins. “Sounds like you’re invested in the group.”

  We haven’t talked about his big revelation since it happened. Including the street prayer. Asher looks the same to me as he always has, just with a slightly gaping wound in the center of his chest. I find his ability to keep his act together a miracle in and over itself.

  I shrug. “I guess, though I still have no idea what I’m doing. Ever. Anywhere. I’m kind of just, I don’t know, praying that God sort of leads me along.”

  “That’ll do for a while,” he says. “But eventually you’ve got to be an active participant.”

  I huff. “I can’t seem to get out of my own way most of the time.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it. A big part of college and young adulthood in general is making mistakes that you won’t want to repeat later. But at some point the rubber has to meet the road of our relationship with God.”

  I release the button on the grinder and put my hand on my hip. “Meaning?”

  He shrugs. “Meaning there will come a point where God will ask you to act. He won’t lead you around like a blind sheep. At some point, he will expect you to simply listen to his commands. He will give you harder challenges. Things won’t be laid out so neatly.”

  “Neatly?” I say with a sharp laugh that silences half the cafe for a second. “Yes, my journey thus far has been defined by its spotlessness.”

  “You’re feisty,” Asher says with a broad grin. “I like that.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” I say as he turns away for his office, causing him to turn back.

  He’s wide-eyed as though I’ve challenged him to a dual. “Oh yeah?”

  I nod. He crosses his arms, and I cross mine. “Yes. I don’t believe God can lead anyone anywhere they’re not willing to go. If so, this world wouldn’t be such a hole sometimes. It’s not about things being laid out so neatly. It’s about willingness. People talk all the time about a sixth sense or a conscience. Do you think that inner voice is biological? I don’t, but I know a ton of people who chalk it up to whatever.” I take a deep breath before closing my case. “I’m just saying that simply listening, or at least feeling around in the dark for the thing I know is there, is what’s helping me here. Sometimes I am blind, but I can still feel. Still hear. As long as I have even one of those three things operating at full capacity, I think I’ll be okay.”

  Asher stares at me for a couple of moments, long enough that it catches Chelsea’s attention as she tries to clock in for her shift and has to ask Asher to move.

  “The hell are you doing, Asher? Move!” She hip-checks him out of the way and enters her ID number.

  “Sorry,” he says as if startled out of a daydream, gesturing to me. “Just listening to Kennedy preach over here.”

  My mouth drops open. “Shush.”

  He shakes his head. “Never. Get back to wor—oh Lord,” he cuts himself off. “Try to get back to work.”

  “Wh…” I turn to face the counter and see Jonah saddling up to the open stool near me. Turning back to Asher, I shoot him a serious gaze. “I’m never telling you anything again,” I hiss, regretting sharing the prospect of being asked out.

  Asher leans in close so only I can hear. “You’ve seen me cry. We’re far from even.”

  He winks as he backs away and finally turns to his office, letting me know that, while we haven’t talked about our walk since that night, he hasn’t forgotten all he shared with me. I didn’t expect him to, I guess, but I wasn’t sure how to continue the conversation. What do I say? “I’m sorry everything sucks for you”? “Thanks for letting me pray for you on the sidewalk”? “Please don’t tell anyone I did that”?

  “Hey Jonah, what can I get you?” I say with the flirty casualness of a waitress from a diner in a 1950s comedy. When, in actuality, I feel like a baby deer walking across a frozen lake.

  “The usual,” he says with a grin before biting his lip.

  My heart races as I go through the motions of his vanilla latte, remembering not to tell anyone that’s what he orders—wi
th an extra pump of vanilla no less. I’m grateful it is a usual so I can perform the drink making duties by rote. My nerves are a bowl of rubber bands migrating to my knees.

  “Easy,” Chelsea whispers into my ear as she froths some milk. “It’s just a boy.”

  My face heats under her observation and I wonder how many other people in the cafe know that Jonah and I are in the middle of a very serious non-conversation.

  “Relax.” She laughs, patting my shoulder. “Asher hasn’t said anything to me, it’s just obvious. The way he paws around here like a puppy all the time.”

  “All the time?” I whisper. “I’ve been back to work for like two weeks.

  Chelsea rolls her eyes. “And all last year. No worries, I won’t tell anyone.” She gives me a devilish grin and sticks out her pierced tongue before returning to her customer.

  Walking a casual few steps back to Jonah, I gracefully set down his latte in a tall ceramic mug. “Here ya go. That’ll be fifty dollars. Three for the drink, and forty-seven for the stellar service.”

  Jonah leans forward, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. His mouth is a frightening few inches from my face. “You sell yourself short,” he says before handing me a five dollar bill. “Can I owe you the rest?”

  I’ve gone mute.

  Swallowing hard, I fumble my way through opening the register and shakily handing Jonah his two-dollars in change.

  He holds up his hand, shaking his head. “Keep it.”

  “I… I was just kidding about… you don’t have to tip us, you know.”

  “Yeah he does,” Chelsea shouts from the other end of the counter. “Especially with the way Asher pays us.”

  “Watch it, Chels,” Asher calls from somewhere else behind me.

  I clench my teeth at the thought of an audience.

  “Sawyer, take your fifteen,” Asher says close enough to make me jump.

  Turning, I say, rather impatiently, “I just clocked in. It’s not time for my—”

  “Go,” he commands, arching his eyebrow. “I need two baristas on tonight, not one and a mess.”

  My mouth drops open. “I’m… I’m not a…” I widen my eyes, begging him to shut up.

  Asher chuckles, cupping a hand over my shoulder. “Just go, kid. Fifteen. If you’re not back in twenty, I’ll send the purity police after you.”

  “I hate you,” I hiss, untying my apron and tossing it on the table beneath the time clock. “Hate.” Asher simply rolls his eyes and waves me out from behind the bar.

  I nod Jonah toward the door, where I’m grateful that the still-warm air allows us at least the illusion of privacy at the outside tables. I situate Jonah and myself at a table in the back corner. In fact, it’s the table Dan and I sat at when he told me he was certain my mom would always love Roland. I saw Matt and his dad sit there once, too. It’s the heavy discussion table, making me and Jonah perfect cases regardless of if anyone gets asked out on a date.

  “Are you okay, Kennedy?” Jonah asks after he pushes my chair in and takes the seat opposite me. His back is to the cafe—his face lit by the quaint streetlights that almost confuse this setting for Paris. I was only there for a few days in high school, but it was just enough to sweep me up in this moment.

  I nod. “I’m sorry,” I start. “I just… I think you’re—we’re—flirting. That’s what’s happening, right? It’s… been a while.”

  Stop talking, Kennedy. For, like, several minutes.

  Jonah’s eyes widen and he laughs. “Well…” He blushes, looking down.

  Something in me wants to give Jonah an out of this conversation. Maybe Eden had an identical conversation with him. Maybe she told him that I’m the one who might want to date him. That hadn’t occurred to me until this very minute, and now I’m panicked. Maybe he’s stalling because he’s waiting for me to ask him, or he’s trying to preemptively shoot me down.

  No! You’re a catch! And, this is Jonah. He’s good. And, come on, look at him.

  I take a deep breath. “Jonah,” I start, but am cut off by his polite hand-lift.

  “Kennedy… I like you,” he says with shaky confidence. His eyes meet mine, and I want to say yes before he’s even said anything.

  I smile, needing to say something like, I like you, too, like we’re fourteen or something. But I can’t. I just sit and let the moment happen without any input from yours truly.

  He swallows hard and I just want to kiss his face. I don’t know how this happened, me fancying Jonah. But, maybe when I leave things well enough alone, something good really can happen. Maybe when I stop telling myself I’m not good enough at something—like singing, or for someone like Jonah, God can move. It seems like God likes it best when I get out of my own way. Just like I tried to tell Asher earlier.

  See?

  He clears his throat and is so obviously nervous I wish I could put him out of his misery. But, maybe we both need this moment to happen just the way it is. “I know we see a lot of each other already,” he starts, still shifting in his seat. “But… I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner with me sometime. On a date,” he adds quickly.

  My ears are hot. “I’d love to,” I say softly, barely able to speak through such a wide smile.

  “Awesome.” He bites his lip, still smiling, and looks down for a moment. I wonder if Eden felt this giddy when Jonah asked her out. I understand on a new level why she agonized so deeply about breaking up with him. He’s just so… good.

  Just like that, I get in my own way. I panic again about my qualifications here. “You really want to go on a date with me?” I ask, trying not to sound as cynical as I feel.

  Jonah’s eyebrows pull in for a second. “I do,” he reassures me softly. “I’ve wanted to for a long time, Kennedy. But I was scared.”

  I grin. “I am pretty scary.”

  He chuckles, nervously. “Not just that. Sure, at first you were just this neon sign right in the middle of what I expected to be a dull first semester of college. But, once I realized you were just as confused as the rest of us, I set that all aside and just became… intrigued by you. You’re fierce, you know.”

  I tilt my head side to side, allowing a small smile. “I guess so.”

  “And how you have handled everything with Roland, and Matt… Kennedy, I would be honored to be able to call you my girlfriend—if that’s where this goes.” He sets his hands in his lap and brushes them against his pants. I’ve made him sweaty-palmed.

  Honored.

  Girls where I come from typically only hear the word honored in movies when men are proposing to their girlfriends. Even when reporting his desire to acquire my virginity, Trent never once indicated that it would be an honor… for him anyway. To have a great guy—a friend—like Jonah talk about dating me and honor in the same sentence makes me thankful, no matter how briefly this feeling will last, that I kind of do go to school on a different planet.

  I allow myself to forget for the time being that dinner with Jonah won’t be a date like I’m used to. Mainly, it won’t be just me and Jonah. Friends will be with us as chaperones to ensure we keep the Word of God forefront in our communication. And, you know what? I don’t have anything snarky to say about that right now. I’m sure I will once we’re halfway through the to-be-planned date but, for now, I’m grateful that I’ll be safe, not pressured, and with someone who gives a damn about what I think and how I feel.

  In the meantime, I’ve got to clean up my mouth. I’ve been letting that slide for a while, and I’m sure my grace period in that department is running out. And, really, having a real date to go on in the near future makes me want to up my game. Be a lady, and all of that.

  “There’s this French restaurant around the corner I’ve been eyeing,” Jonah says, pointing in the direction of the eatery. “Some of the guys have recommended it. I’d like to take you there, if you’re okay with French food.”

  French food. Paris. My mouth waters at the thought. “What’s not to like!” I try not to drool.
“Cheese, meats, bread, chocolate.”

  Calm yourself.

  Jonah smiles and stands, offering his hand to me. He often does this. Extends a hand when I’m standing or sitting, or holds a door for me. I thought this was just how guys around here did things. Then I realized, no, it’s not. Yes, they’re all incredibly polite and respectful, and hold doors, but… it seems as if Jonah’s been courting me a bit longer than I realized.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, new heat in my cheeks. “I have to get back.” I nod toward the door. This time to go in.

  He nods. “I know. I’ve got to meet up with the guys who went to the sports store so we can get back to campus.”

  I grin. “Did they go to the store so you could ask me out without them gawking at us?”

  Jonah shrugs, then blushes, then I faint inside. “I guess,” he mumbles a little. “Is next Thursday evening okay for you?”

  I nod, not having to check my social calendar since I don’t have one.

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at Rolands?”

  I nod again. “Chaperones?” I ask, slowly. “How does that…”

  Jonah waves his free hand, since his other is still covering mine. “I’ll take care of it.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before walking to meet his friends, a slight bounce in his step.

  Meanwhile, I’m left to float back behind the coffee bar and finish out three whole hours with this dizzying high.

  “Young love,” Asher teases once I tie on my apron and get back to work.

  I smack his forearm. “How do you even… know that…”

  He laughs. “If he didn’t ask you out by next weekend, I was going to ask him for you.”

  “It’s true,” Chelsea cuts in, while my mouth hangs open. “Ash was really getting tired of his pussyfooting around.” She tosses me a wink, then returns to flirting with a nearby customer. “And he left his coffee on the counter.”

  Asher shakes his head. “It was just a prop, anyway.”

  Trying to get back to work, I’m interrupted again by Asher’s burly tone.

  He clears his throat and speaks in a low, careful voice. “Here comes bachelor number two.”