Page 71 of Halo

A small grin crawls across my face. “I distinctly remember you wanting to be my friend once upon a time when I was keeping things to myself.”

“Oh yeah? How did that turn out for you?”

I shrug. “Eh, I can't seem to get rid of you.”

We share a look as her smile appears—brief, but always so perfect.

“Seriously, though, what could you have possibly done to warrant all of that bullshit?”

She takes a couple of deep breaths as she worries with the hem of her shirt. “I, um … I filed for divorce three years ago. That's not exactly something that's approved of in the church. Like, at all.”

I stay quiet, letting her continue.

“Most people didn't know until recently.” She stares out into the night. “Declan stopped paying alimony months ago, and I finally filed a motion to enforce it. Now … everyone knows.”

“Is that why you took the job at Low Places?”

She nods. “Money's really, really tight. I left Declan with no job, no degree, and a mountain of medical bills.” Her shoulders sag. “I had to move back in with my parents, which was humiliating—not to mention I was suddenly being treated like a child again.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “They weren't about to help me, though. They called it the consequences of my sin.”

“Jesus.”

She snorts. “Literally.”

“So ... your family's really religious?”

“You could say that.” Another quiet laugh escapes her. “This is my dad's church. He's the senior pastor.”

Fuck a duck.

“Your dad's the pastor?”

“And my brother, Matt? He's the worship pastor.”

“Good grief. You're, like, grandfathered into heaven. You could be doing all sorts of sinning and shit.”

She barks out another laugh.

“Damnit, now I really am going to hell. I have no clue how many times I've said fuck in front of you—see? There's another time.”

“Stop.” She laughs, nudging me in the ribs.

“So … Do you still go to church then?”

She quietly nods. “Every Sunday.”

“Every Sunday?”

“What can I say? I'm a creature of habit.”

“But you must also enjoy it, right?”

A silence falls between us. Sadness clouds her eyes as she looks out across the festival. She blinks, as if remembering where she is at. “I'm sorry. What?”

I give her a cordial grin, shaking my head. “Nevermind.”

“I'm sorry. I'm just—”

“Stop … with … the apologies, woman.”