Sunday Morning
by Jewel E. Ann
Self-Published
Book 1 in the Sunday Morning Series
Her boyfriend’s older brother should be off-limits, but he’s a sinful temptation.
Sarah is a preacher’s daughter and a people pleaser. She’s also on the verge of graduating high school and following her dream of singing in Nashville. The only thing standing in her way is that the entire town of Devil’s Head, Missouri, thinks she will marry Matt, the son of the town’s richest rancher.
But Sarah’s not sure he’s her future husband, especially when his older brother, Isaac, returns home after serving six years in the Army. He has tattoos on his arms and bad habits that are not “father-approved.” When he’s not working on the ranch or roping at the rodeo, Isaac hangs out in the barn, playing his guitar. He’s trouble, but Sarah's music-loving heart gravitates toward him.
Isaac loves consuming Sarah’s mind, crawling under her skin, backing her into corners, and whispering inappropriate things in her innocent ears.
After weeks of playful banter and guitar lessons blurring the line between right and wrong, Issac makes Sarah a proposition she can’t refuse.
But when the unthinkable happens, and everything she knows is destroyed, will Sarah make the right choice?
Genre
Triggers
Deals with sudden passing of best friend, talks of abortion, cheating, extramarital affairs
AH! I loved this book!
If you've read it, well .... you know why.
*squeals and kicks feet*
I wasn't sure if I was going to like this book. Despite it being a Jewel E. Ann book, considering the main character - Sarah - is a devout Christian, I honestly didn't think I could connect with her.
I shouldn't have doubted Jewel, though. Despite the fact that I'm an atheist, and older than Sarah, I actually found her relatable when it came to her inner thoughts and desires.
While I myself wasn't raising in a religious household, I could understand her desire to not disappoint her family. The pressure of being the oldest child and wanting to set an example. I could even connect with Sarah being with Matt, despite not loving him, because she didn't want to hurt anyone.
There were many times I couldn't put myself in her shoes. It was almost painful how immature she could be sometimes. I could empathize, however. Show me an eighteen year old that isn't immature.
I loved the romance in this book. The forbidden nature of it was wonderfully done, but it wasn't the best part of this story.
It was two people, who despite their differences, saw one another's true selves. Two people who supported one another in their times of need, and supported their dreams when it felt like the world was against them.
Add in a dash of tension, great dialogue, and a million "Sunday Morning's" and this book was one of the highlights that got me through a reading slump.
Sunday Morning was a beautiful love story. Honestly, I don't think I've come across a Jewel E. Ann book that I haven't loved yet. If you haven't read Sunday Morning yet, you should! The second book - The Apple Tree - is out next month!
He and his friends formed a band in high school. My dad called their music an abomination to God. And if I recall correctly, that might have been their official band name.
When I lifted my gaze from the flask to his face, he smirked.
Isaac: “I like the way you look at me.”
I swallowed hard and focused on the eggs, as Isaac stood uncomfortably close to me, his backside against the counter.
Sarah: “How do I look at you?”
Isaac: “Like you’re thirsty.”
Sarah: “Smoking will kill you,”
I mumbled. That was it—my best comeback. He chuckled.
Isaac: “When?”
Sarah: “When what?”
Isaac: “When will it kill me?”
I shrugged.
Sarah: “Someday.”
Isaac: “Sunday Morning, something will kill all of us someday.”
Isaac: “If you touch something of mine, I get to touch something of yours, but I guess you tried to get me to feel you up during prayer, so that counts.”
Sarah: “I can’t believe they let you up here with me,”
I whispered. Well, it was a partial whisper.
Sarah: “I’m not allowed to be in boys’ bedrooms. I could accidentally have sex.”
I canted my head.
Sarah: “Your eyes are so dark. And the white part is really white.”
Isaac: “The sky is blue, and the grass is green. Are there any more brilliant observations you want to discuss before you take a nap?”
Isaac: “Hey, kids.”
We jumped apart, turning toward Isaac like soldiers coming to attention. His broad shoulders and unmatched confidence engulfed the whole doorway.
Isaac: “Matty, stop trying to pick the lock to Sarah’s chastity belt. Her parents are ready to go home.”
Isaac: “Sunday Morning, no matter how high you tip your chin and puff out your tiny chest, your boots are still too big for your feet, not the other way around. So you’d better button up your cardigan and skitter out of here before I call your sad attempt at a bluff.”
I took two steps closer to Satan.
Sarah: “You know nothing about me.”
He gazed down at me, and his face was alight with amusement.
Isaac: “Have you cheated on my brother?”
I squinted.
Sarah: “Of course not.”
Isaac: “Then your hymen is still intact. Now, run along.”
Isaac: “Done it?”
He wasted no time mocking me.
Matt: “Sarah, what are you doing? Are you coming?”
Matt called up the stairs. Isaac’s grin nearly cracked his face in half.
Isaac: “That’s a problem,”
he whispered.
Isaac: “Your boyfriend doesn’t know if you’re coming.”
I swallowed hard. Don’t react.
Isaac: “If you did it,”
Isaac scratched his chin before leaning closer to me,
Isaac: “you didn’t do it right.”
I turned sideways to slide past him without making physical contact.
Sarah: “Sorry,”
I said to Matt as I lifted the skirt of my dress on my way down the stairs.
Sarah: “Isaac was asking me about Jesus and if I truly believe He loves sinners like your brother.”
Matt chuckled.
Matt: “Did he really?”
At that point, what was one more lie?
Sarah: “And don't tell Joanna or anyone that I'm having these thoughts about Matt, or else my parents will catch wind of it and ground me until I promise to marry him so we can breed little ranch helpers and missionaries.”
Heather: “That’s a little extreme.”
Heather laughed.
Sarah: “It’s not.”
Isaac adjusted his cowboy hat and sat next to me.
Isaac: “Sunday Morning,”
he murmured.
Sarah: “It’s Sarah.”
Isaac: “I know,”
he smirked, gazing out at the baseball field.
Isaac: “I’m just playing with you, Sunday Morning.”
Sarah: “It’s inappropriate.”
Isaac: “Don’t be such a square.”
Sarah: “Don’t be such a perv. I don’t want to play with you.”
Isaac: “Why not? I’m infinitely more fun than Matty. More experienced too.”
I scoffed.
When my feet touched the ground, I pivoted toward him.
Sarah: “Don’t ever do that again.”
He twisted his lips.
Isaac: “Touch you. Lift you off the ground? Or make you scream?”
Isaac: “Mind if I smoke?”
Isaac rolled down the window and lit a cigarette.
Sarah: “Yes, I mind. My dad will kill me if he smells smoke in my car.”
Isaac: “That’s why I have the window rolled down.”
He blew a cloud of poison out the window.
Sarah: “Fasten your seat belt,”
I grumbled.
Isaac: “Why? Are you going to crash?”
He held his cancer stick between his thumb and pointer finger while the wind tangled my hair but did nothing to his short hair that had started to grow out of the military buzz cut.
Sarah: “It’s the law now,”
Isaac: “And you’re a rule follower, Sunday Morning?”
He shot me a quick glance, but I kept my eyes on the road.
Sarah: “I suppose people who smoke have a death wish, so never mind, don’t fasten your seat belt. If we crash, maybe you’ll go quickly.”
Isaac: “Jesus, Sunday Morning, you’re such a drag.”
Sarah: “Because I don’t want to die?”
Isaac: “Because you’re afraid of it,”
Sarah: “What’s the difference?”
He laughed.
Isaac: “God, your ignorance astounds me.”
Sarah: “Stop calling me that.”
He smirked, puffing his cigarette.
Isaac: “If I wanted to die, I’d put a bullet in my head and be done. If I was afraid of dying, I’d give up smoking and fasten my seat belt. But I neither want to die nor am I afraid of it, so I get to be something you’ll never be.”
I didn’t want to ask. I was mad at him as I gripped the steering wheel with one hand and the gearshift with my other. But Isaac had a way of making me do things I didn’t want to do.
Sarah: “What’s that?”
I asked, frustrated with myself for satisfying him by once again showing my ignorance.
Isaac: “Fun,”
he chirped.
As we stared at each other, he offered me the cigarette.
Isaac: “I promise it’s better than a cow’s butthole,”
he said. I snorted.
Sarah: “Have you licked a cow’s butthole?”
He shrugged.
Isaac: “It gets lonely on the ranch. Hours in the pasture, inhaling dirt and all that methane can lead to unfathomable boredom. The next thing you know, you’re passing the backside of a cow, and a gentle stroke here and there leads to …”
He shrugged. I tried to hate Isaac, but I liked him too much to be successful. He was fun, even if I had no plans of admitting it.
Sarah: “Ew, I will never stick anything of yours in my mouth,”
I said. I didn’t mean it in that way. But when Isaac’s expression morphed into something akin to surprise, as though I did mean it suggestively, I didn’t want to convince him otherwise. It was the first time he looked at me like a worthy adversary. So, I slowly raised my chin and smirked.
Isaac: “Fuck me, Sunday Morning.”
Isaac shook his head.
Isaac: “I’m taking that as a personal challenge.”
He pinched his lips around the cigarette.
Isaac’s lips twitched.
Isaac: “Careful. I might decide to touch something that’s not mine.”
I held my ground, narrowing my eyes—calling his bluff.
Isaac: “I told him to make you come first,”
he said. I couldn’t have hid my reaction had my life depended on it. But instead of a blush, the blood drained from my face. Sex was still “doing it.” The penis was a “thingy.” And orgasms weren’t part of any discussion I’d had with friends. Maybe nobody was having them.
Isaac: “As for you, I’d say you should fake it. Make Matty feel like a god his first time. Not your god, of course. Unless that’s what does it for you.”
Why was Isaac the third wheel in my relationship with Matt? Why would Matt confide in the one person who belittled him for no good reason?
Sarah: “Did you give Coach Harvey’s daughter an …”
I couldn’t say it. Dang it!
Isaac: “An orgasm?”
He lifted an eyebrow. I didn’t answer or even blink.
Isaac: “What do you think, Sunday Morning?”
Sarah: “I don’t think about you doing it or anything for that matter,"
He bent forward, mouth at my ear, eliciting an unwelcome chill along my skin.
Isaac: “Liar,”
Sarah: “Are you saying you’re going to let me play your guitar again?”
Isaac: “Depends.”
He shrugged.
Sarah: “On what?”
Isaac: “What are you going to do for me?”
Sarah: “I’ll pray for you. Preachers’ daughters’ prayers carry more weight than the average person’s. Should I pray for you to quit smoking or for your salvation?”
Isaac: “Why do you want me to quit smoking so badly? Will your heart break if I die of cancer? Or do you secretly want to kiss me?”
I scoffed while surveying the area behind me, looking and listening for signs of Wesley, Matt, or anyone else.
Sarah: “I secretly want to kill you and steal your guitar, but you know the rules. Number six: Thou shalt not kill. And number eight: Thou shalt not steal. Or maybe you don’t know the rules.”
I shrugged.
Isaac: “I know the tenth commandment is Thou shalt not covet. And I’ve been breaking that one a lot lately,”
Sarah: “How so?”
I asked as Isaac physically brushed past me.
Isaac: “Sunday Morning, I’ve been coveting the fuck out of you since Easter Sunday,”
he said, strolling out of the barn.
I died and went straight to Hell.
Sarah: “Why do you rope? Does your daddy not pay you enough?”
Isaac: “Because I enjoy it.”
He threw the rope and snagged it on the horn of the dummy calf.
Isaac: “Don’t you have work to do?”
Sarah: “Don’t you?”
He eyed me.
Isaac: “My mom left me in charge of keeping watch over you, so technically, I’m your boss this week. That means you do what I say.”
Sarah: “Then look at me and tell me what to do,”
I said before biting my lower lip.
Isaac: “With that attitude, you’re going to send your dad to his grave early. You and your sisters.”
Sarah: “I take offense on behalf of myself and my sisters. We’re angels.”
Isaac: “I’m Mr. Cory.”
He lifted his eyebrows.
Sarah: “You’re something, but not a Mister. Barely a human.”
Isaac: “I feel your anger. It’s frustrating when someone does something so ruthless and unimaginable.”
Sarah: “What is your problem? How did you even see that? And it was not remotely close to what you did to me. And this won’t come off, YOU BIG JERK!”
I yelled, jabbing my boob.
Isaac: “If revenge isn’t memorable, then it’s not really revenge. Is it? That will be on there for a while. It will be memorable,”
he said.
Sarah: “Your brother is going to see it.”
I fisted my hands at my side.
Sarah: “What am I supposed to say?”
Isaac: “Tell him the truth. You wrote your name on something that was mine, so I wrote my name on something that’s yours. He’ll be pissed off because he only sees himself, and you’re nothing more than an accessory to his dreams. And I know this because you fucking fell in love with a guitar. And my brother has thousands of dollars saved up, but he’s never given you the one thing that makes your heart sing. He doesn’t see you. How can you take off your clothes for someone who doesn’t. Fucking. See. You?”
Sarah: “Is that a question? It better be a question. And the answer is... Yes. Of course, I can be trusted. I’m way more trustworthy than you are.”
Isaac: “How do you figure?”
He toted the bucket and a spool of steel wire toward the machine shed.
Sarah: “Everyone trusted you not to write your name on my boob, but you couldn’t control yourself.”
Sarah: “Don’t you think you should apologize? You’ve had all day to contemplate your insane response to what I did to your old guitar case.”
He dropped the bucket and the spool of wire before slowly turning toward me.
Isaac: “How old are you?”
I parked a hand on my hip.
Sarah: “Eighteen. Duh, you know that.”
Pursing his lips to the side, he studied me.
Isaac: “That guitar case is maybe ten years old. So it looks like the excuse is mine, not yours. I just scribbled my name on your old tit. Why are you acting so insane?”
Sarah:“I love Matt,”
I murmured, unsure if I was saying it to Isaac or myself.
Isaac: “You think you should love him. But you’re going to let him go. It’s the only way you’ll be able to chase your dreams. And in another year, you’ll both look back at your time together with fondness. However, neither one of you will regret not staying together.”
At first, I thought he knew. I thought Matt said something to him, but that was unlikely. Isaac just had an eerie sense of the truth, so I scoffed.
Sarah: “So which is it? Will we be broken up, or will I be your sister-in-law?”
Isaac: “You mean, will you be happy or miserable? I don’t know, Sunday Morning. That’s up to you.”
Isaac: “Sunday Morning, I want to write my name on every inch of your body. But I don’t think it would bode well for your relationship with my brother or the great union of the Cory and Jacobson families.”
Isaac turned and opened the door while gazing over his shoulder.
Isaac: “But I promise it would blow your fucking mind.”
My labored breaths slowed.
Sarah: “Why did you quit smoking?”
I whispered.
Isaac: “You know why.”
I slowly shook my head.
Isaac: “The problem is, I need something to occupy my lips if I can’t have a cigarette between them.”
He lowered his head until his nose brushed my hair and his lips feathered across my forehead.
Sarah: “I think you’ll live longer if you go back to torturing baby animals and smoking and stay as far away from me as possible. Your dad will be less likely to threaten you with a shotgun.”
He seemed to think about my words before the corner of his mouth twitched.
Isaac: “You’re not a calf. I’m not chasing you with a rope. Just the opposite. I’m trying to free you. You’re too big for this little town. You’re a wanderer with dreams too vast to walk a straight line. I’m not trying to steal you from God or Matty. Although, if you’re a Bible enthusiast, one of those two men loves you unconditionally, forgives all of your sins, and has given you the freedom to make your own decisions. The other one wants you barefoot and pregnant while he sprints after his own dreams."
Isaac: “Are you playing my guitar tonight?”
Sarah: “Yes.”
I unbuckled.
Isaac: “Good. Lock your bedroom door and play it naked.”
I swallowed hard, but that’s all the reaction—the satisfaction—I gave him.
Sarah: “And why is that?”
I laughed it off, reaching for the door handle.
Isaac: “Because I want to think about something of mine pressed to your naked body, giving you pleasure.”
Matt: “Figured you’d be in the barn half drunk by now,”
Matt said to Isaac, who was in the kitchen.
Isaac: “I’m half drunk but not in the barn yet. I’m making a sandwich,”
Isaac mumbled, keeping his head bowed as he spread mayo on the hoagie.
Isaac: “Then I’ll get out of here so you can disappoint God.”
Matt: “Shut up,”
Matt grumbled, shaking his head while we removed our shoes.
Matt: “Ignore him. He’s having nicotine withdrawal. Some girl he met won’t kiss him until he quits smoking.”
I set Isaac’s guitar on the floor next to the stairs just as he glanced up at me and smirked. With a fake smile, I cleared my throat.
Sarah: “Did this girl say that?”
I asked. Isaac screwed the mayo lid onto the jar.
Isaac: “Not in so many words. But she’s mentioned my ‘disgusting’ habit on more than one occasion, so I’ve read between the lines because I’m smart.”
Sarah: “Maybe she just thinks you’re disgusting and has no intention of kissing you even if you quit smoking.”
I returned a toothy grin. Matt laughed.
Matt: “That sounds more likely.”
Isaac fought his grin while wrapping his sandwich in several paper towels.
Isaac: “Perhaps. However, when I touch her, she gets breathy and blushes from nose to toe. So I think it’s only a matter of time before she’s begging for it.”
Sarah: “What are you doing?”
I murmured before turning around.
Isaac: “You asked me for a ride home. I’m obliging.”
I tucked my hair behind my ears and sighed while facing him.
Sarah: “Do you hate me, your brother, my family, God, or all of the above?”
Isaac scratched the back of his head.
Isaac: “Uh, none of the above. Why?”
Sarah: “Because you’re toying with me, your brother’s girlfriend.”
Isaac: “I’m flirting with you.”
Sarah: “Why?”
Isaac: “Sunday Morning,”
he grinned,
Isaac: “do I really have to explain flirting to you? If so, my brother has failed you more than I suspected.”
Sarah: “Why are you flirting with someone else’s girlfriend?”
Isaac: “Chemistry, I suppose. Combustion. Fermentation. Rusting. Photosynthesis. I’m not making a conscious decision to feel an attraction to you. I just do. And thinking I shouldn’t feel a certain way or someone telling me that it’s wrong doesn’t change our chemistry.”
Isaac: “When I saw you in church on Easter Sunday,”
Isaac said, lifting my shirt over my head. My heart ricocheted off the walls of my chest. This wasn’t really happening. My thoughts swam in a dream state, a twisty, dizzying whirlpool.
Isaac: “I knew I was fucked. Going straight to Hell.”
He dropped my shirt onto the floor.
Isaac: “But when you sang ‘Bette Davis Eyes,’ I knew I was going to wind up dead in a ditch either at the hands of your dad, mine, or my brother.”
Isaac: “If I were him, I’d put my mouth where your fingers are,”
Isaac whispered with his lips at my hipbone, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. My legs squeezed together because his words made everything feel heightened. Blood whooshed until I could barely hear anything but my deafening pulse. I was a hair trigger, unimaginably aroused. Then it happened. A million stars. I felt like every nerve in my body exploded at the same time.
Isaac: “If I were him,”
Isaac hugged my waist, holding me to him and keeping my knees from buckling.
Isaac: “I’d be inside of you. We would be doing this together.”
Sarah: “Isaac …”
I panted. Waves of pleasure hijacked my entire body as my posture sagged, and I melted into him, lost in complete euphoria. Isaac sat on his heels, bringing me to his lap when my knees collapsed inward. I was a rag doll in his embrace. He buried his face in my hair, holding me tightly to him.
Isaac: “If only I were him.”
My heart felt heavy.
Sarah: “Isaac,”
I whispered.
Isaac: “Nothing happened. You can walk up the drive with your head up because nothing happened.”
I stared at the floor and nodded. As soon as I opened the door, I hopped out and headed up the road. The gravel crunched beneath his tires when he pulled forward to make a U-turn. Something happened. I turned and ran toward his truck, smacking my hand on his window. He glanced up at me and stopped. Adrenaline took over, and I opened his door, grabbing the steering wheel and his shirt to step up and kiss him. Isaac hesitated at first, but in the next breath, he tangled his fingers into my hair and kissed me with an open mouth. The kiss didn’t end abruptly like a mistake; it ended slowly like neither one of us wanted it to end at all. I bit my lower lip when we pulled apart just enough to look into his dark eyes.
Sarah: “It happened,”
I whispered. A gorgeous grin stole his lips.
Isaac: “It happened,”
We were going to get caught. Isaac was taking his sweet time, and I didn’t want him to stop, but I also didn’t want my life to implode that way. As if he read my thoughts, Isaac adjusted my bra and buttoned my blouse.
Isaac: “You’re blushing, Sunday Morning,”
he whispered. I scowled at him. Was he trying to get me in trouble? Isaac planted his face next to mine, lips at my ear.
Isaac: “I love seeing you flushed, breathless, and I imagine … wet.”
Sarah: “I’m not having sex with you.”
Okay, I went a little overboard with that emphasis. Isaac lifted his eyebrows, rubbing his lips together to quell his amusement.
Isaac: “Did I ask you to have sex with me?”
Dang it! I really wanted my underwear back. Confidence felt just out of reach with my lady bits airing out below.
Sarah: “So you don’t want to?”
I tipped up my chin, but my voice still trembled. Isaac unloaded the rest of the egg cartons.
Isaac: “Most days, it’s all I want.”
Sarah: “You’re messing with me.”
I removed my dirty shoe and hopped away from the mess, stepping into the bathroom to rinse it off in the sink.
Isaac: “Sunday Morning, you could wrap me around your little finger if only you knew how to wield the power I’m giving you.”
Heather: “If he’s the one, you’ll look back on this and feel bad that you hurt Matt, but you’ll never regret taking a chance on love,”
Isaac: “Sunday Morning,”
Isaac grinned, taking my backpack from me and waving to Heather as he led me to his truck.
Sarah: “It’s Friday Morning,”
Isaac: “Every day is Sunday Morning in my world.”
Isaac: “The day I left for basic training, I couldn't stop shaking. Like the first time I performed in front of an audience. And the first time I roped at the rodeo.”
I nodded slowly, lifting my gaze to his, knowing he’d see every ounce of doubt I felt.
Isaac: “But that was nothing compared to you.”
He eyed me with an unreadable expression, lips twisted.
Isaac: “When you sang ‘Bette Davis Eyes’ while watching my hands on the guitar, I was scared out of my fucking mind.”
Sarah: “Why?”
I furrowed my brow.
Isaac: “You know why.”
He nodded toward the seat.
Sarah: “Why are you cheating on your brother? And don’t give me a scientific explanation.”
Isaac: “How am I cheating on him?”
Sarah: “Loyalty. You’re not showing family loyalty. At least I can say that I’ve known that Matt and I are ending, but you didn’t know that until now.”
Isaac: “Oh, I knew it was over for you and Matty when I let you play my guitar.”
Isaac: “Baby,”
he laughed,
Isaac: “you don’t belong to anyone. I could lasso you, but you’d break free. I’m not taking anything that’s not given to me.”
He shivered, and my gaze shot to his.
Isaac: “Sorry,”
he said softly.
Isaac: “You affect me. Or maybe your touch infects me.”
My gaze felt sluggish, like when he got me drunk. I skimmed back up his arms to his neck, then his face, fingers spread wide. When the pads of my thumbs grazed his lips, he closed his eyes, and he drew in an unsteady breath.
Sarah: “Are you shaking?”
I whispered, feeling a tiny jolt of power. Did I really have that effect on him?
Sarah: “Why?”
I asked, slipping my fingers into his hair.
Isaac: “You know why,”
he said, opening his eyes.
Isaac: “Wrap me around that little finger of yours.”
Sarah: “You make it sound like I’m going to get abducted.”
I rested my hands on his knees and slid my hands up his legs along the worn denim.
Isaac: “Look at you, baby. Who wouldn’t want to take you?”
He laced his fingers behind his head.
His friend released him and eyed me.
Lenny: “And who do we have here? Wife? Girlfriend?”
My eyes widened, looking to Isaac for help.
Isaac: “My preacher’s daughter. I kidnapped her. She sings in the choir but secretly loves songs about sex.”
Isaac: “I’m sorry we feel like a lie. I’m sorry that this will hurt a lot of people we love. But, baby,”
he kissed the top of my head,
Isaac: “I wouldn’t change what’s happened. My feelings for you are too big; they don’t leave any room for regret.”
Isaac: "Let’s grab dinner. Hit the show. Fireworks. Bed.”
She beamed.
Sarah: “I don’t know what I’m looking forward to the most.”
Isaac: “Bed, baby. You’re looking forward to getting in this bed with me and not sleeping for the whole night.”
She giggled.
Sarah: “But I love fireworks.”
Isaac: “Get your ass in the truck.”
That look—the one she gave me—was bigger and better than anything in the whole fucking galaxy. With one single look, she simplified my existence and the meaning of my life to a singular purpose: spend every day working to earn that look from her. And if I could do that, I’d die a happy man.
Matty gave her his letter jacket, her first kiss, his virginity, and he might even have given her his last name one day, but if he couldn’t give her a chance at her dreams, he might as well have given her nothing.
Matty could have the fame and fortune. World titles and fancy cars. He could have six days and nights. I only wanted Sunday Morning. I just wanted the girl.
Sarah: “I wanted to tell you how Heather and I met, but I don’t remember. I also don’t recall meeting my mom or dad. They’ve just always been there like Heather has always been there. According to our moms, we met in the nursery at Sunday school. We took our first steps together at a summer potluck behind this church. First words. First swimming lessons. First day of school. I shared more firsts with Heather than with my own sisters.”
I wiped a few tears, proud of myself for keeping it together.
Sarah: “We braided each other’s hair and finished each other’s sentences. And when I broke my leg and couldn’t go to the State Fair, she said she’d carry me.”
I laughed through my tears.
Sarah: “I was too heavy; after all, we were only twelve. So Heather said she’d experience it for both of us and tell me all about it; and someday, if she couldn’t go someplace, I would return the favor.”
I peered at the ceiling, looking for something—maybe strength.
Sarah: “We planned our weddings when we were fifteen. She wanted to get married on a beach in Hawaii, and I wanted to get married at Graceland Wedding Chapel in Las Vegas, but I made her promise not to tell my dad.”
The congregation laughed, and I knew Heather would be proud. She thought everyone should find a moment of laughter at funerals. I eyed my dad, and he, too, had a smile on his face.
Sarah: “Heather was always a little better at everything than I was, but she never made me feel less than her. She was the most inspir—”
I choked on my words as everything blurred behind my tears. Wiping my eyes, I drew in a big breath and let it out slowly as the sanctuary filled with sniffles and soft sobs.
Sarah: “She was the most inspiring best friend anyone could have. And she was—”
Again, I had to swallow past the lump in my throat as I pressed my lips together to fight for just a little more composure to finish.
Sarah: “She was m-mine,”
I whispered, tasting the salty tears on my lips.
Sarah: “So it’s okay that I don’t remember the day we met,”
I stared at the casket,
Sarah: “because I don’t want to imagine a time without her.”
My voice cracked along with my heart.
Sarah: “Heather, I’ll carry you,”
I said softly, not caring if anyone else heard me.
Sarah: “I’ll carry you w-with me. We’ll l-live one life t-together. And I can’t wait to t-tell you all about it.”
Isaac: “Shh. No, baby.”
He kissed my head.
Isaac: “You could have been in that car. But you weren’t. And I’m so fucking sorry that you lost your friends. It wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t their fault. It was life. And sometimes life can be cruel. But that’s part of the deal. Death is part of the deal. No one knows how long they have. And it sucks that your friends didn’t have more time, but nobody thinks you should have been in that car.”
Sarah: “Why would you do that for me?”
Isaac: “You know why.”
Because you love me.
Sarah: “You look handsome,”
I said, staring at his tie. The swelling caused my eyes to squint permanently.
Sarah: “But I never want to see you in a suit again. If I die first, wear jeans and your cowboy hat to my funeral.”
Isaac: “On one condition,”
he said, taking my hand and leading me out of the field.
Sarah: “What’s that?”
Isaac: “You let me die first.”
We were either the bad kind of right or the good kind of wrong. It was hard to distinguish the two. We had a reckless love and perfectly awful timing. We were impossible to describe, and that’s why every time I tried to put us into words, it made no sense. He released me and again took my hand, taking a step in front of me.
Sarah: “Isaac?”
Isaac: “Yeah?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
Sarah: “I love you too.”
A slow smile slid up his face.
Isaac: “Then I’m a lucky son of a bitch.”
Isaac: “You don’t get to talk to her that way. I won’t allow it. Not today. Not ever. I love you, but I love her more. You and everyone else are done sucking the life out of her. You’re done taking. Your privileges have been revoked. So go back to the house. Be the coddled child you’ve always been because you don’t deserve someone you don’t really see.
She stared at the note again and closed her eyes in realization.
Mom: “Isaac,”
she whispered.
Sarah: “I love him.”
Mom" “Until you get pregnant or worse.”
Pain lined her face. I slowly shook my head.
Sarah: “I’d still love him.”
Mom: “Even if he breaks your heart?”
I folded the piece of paper.
Sarah: “Heartbreak is unavoidable if you let yourself fall in love.”
Wesley: “When will you be back? You have work on Monday.”
I thought about lying, but I couldn’t handle any more lies.
Sarah: “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
He lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.
Wesley: “So you want to borrow my truck for an undetermined amount of time while leaving my farm stand unattended, so you can chase after a boy and his horse?”
Biting my thumbnail, I nodded. Maybe I should have told one more lie. Did it matter at that point?
Wesley: “Do your parents know?”
Sarah: “My mom does.”
Wesley: “And she’s okay with it?”
Sarah: “Mr. Cory, I’m eighteen. My parents kicked me out of the house. I think your permission is the only one I need since I do, in fact, need to borrow your truck.”
After a few seconds, he stepped past me to the water spigot.
Wesley: “If anyone asks, I only gave you permission to use it until Sunday.”
I grinned.
With my bandaged hands at my sides, I leaned forward, eyes locked on his as I licked it. He grinned, and so did I. Isaac’s patience with my inexperience was commendable.
Isaac: “You know the rule. If you lick it, then it’s yours.”
Sarah: “I’m still not okay with you tying up baby cows.”
He looked up from his erection as he finished rolling on the condom and gave me a lifted eyebrow. I grinned.
Sarah: “But when you’re on your horse, looking hotter than any guy I have ever seen, all I can think about is this.”
Isaac’s mouth twitched.
Isaac: “When I’m roping, it makes you want to have sex with me?”
Sarah: “Very much so,”
I whispered, staring at his erection.
Isaac: “Well, fuck, baby,”
he sat on the bed and grabbed my butt, pulling me between his legs.
Isaac: “I’m going to do nothing but rope and bury myself inside of you for the rest of my life.”
Dad: “Heather and—”
He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes for a few seconds.
Sarah: “Heather and Joanna are gone, and I will live with that unimaginable reality for the rest of my life. But I’m alive, and they would want me to live. They would want me to follow my dreams, fall in love, and do all the things they never got to do.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed. I stood.
Sarah: “That’s the hardest part for you, isn't it? You can’t figure out why I’m here. Why did God spare me despite my sinful trip with Isaac to Nashville? Well, I don’t know either. And some days are easier than others, but I’m not wasting my chance, this gift, or blessing.”
I shrugged.
Sarah: “Maybe God likes Isaac. Maybe He made him just for me.”
I opened the door.
Dad: “If you leave—”
I turned and lost my resolve. My fists relaxed, as did my shoulders. With one blink, I released so many emotions that I’d been holding back.
Sarah: “If I leave, I want to believe that my family will come visit me and watch me do what I love. If I leave, I want to believe that I’m welcome home any time. If I leave, I know I’ll never regret it because I’m not doing it for Isaac or anyone else. I’m doing it for me. God loves me unconditionally while allowing me to make my own decisions, even if they are mistakes. Can’t you try to love me like He does?”
I closed the door behind me.
Eve: “Have you given him a blowjob?”
Sarah: “Shh!”
I covered her mouth with my hand. The tequila was making her get louder.
Gabby: “I heard that,”
Sarah: “We are done talking about me. How’s Erin? Did you get all your school supplies?”
Eve: “Yes. I have a hundred number two pencils and a Trapper Keeper. Do you swallow it?”
Sarah: “You’re done.”
I snagged the bottle and cap from her.
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