Page 109 of Falling for the Enemy

He didn’t push, but he also didn’t offer any indication that her discomfort was enough to end the conversation.

Soren had shared something personal about himself and his father because she asked him to. It was cheating not to offer something equally personal in return, so out of sheer guilt, she admitted, “They live in Nashville now.”

His brows shot up. “That’s not a small town.”

“No, but it’s home to one of the largest evangelical megachurches, and that’s the real community my mom’s always been chasing.”

“So they’re religious.”

Every breath seemed forced and bottomless. “That’s a generous way to put it.” The sarcasm was there, but it landed flat. “There’s faith, and then there’s obsession.”

He studied her carefully as she continued to wring her hands under the table. Realizing this was something she didn’t usually discuss, he said, “We don’t have to⁠—”

“My mother’s need to conform and belong somewhere overshadowed everything,” she blurted, wanting him to understand. She needed him to get that their moving was not a normal choice. It wasn’t about her. Not really.

“Church wasn’t just for Sunday mornings in my house,” she explained. “Once my mom found God, faith became her entire identity. It consumed her. And the more severe her faith became, the more she needed. It was never enough to simply be a mother or wife. She had the compulsion to…” She frowned, trying to explain it in a way that truly expressed how deep her mother’s addiction went. “She was subsumed by the church’s ideology.”

Reaching for her wine glass, she drained half of it.

“I didn’t realize they were that involved. Were they strict?”

“Not at first, but the more she got into it, the more things started to feel like some Puritan settlement. And I was just your run-of-the-mill heathen trapped in sin.”

He chuckled, as if to say he preferred her that way.

“When I was twenty-one, they found a church community, and my mom wanted full-time involvement. She asked me to go with them, but…” She shrugged.

“You didn’t want to go to Nashville?”

“Hell no. But I also didn’t have a reason to stay. I was working at the municipal building as a clerk, making shit pay, and there was nothing keeping me here, but I was not going to move across the country to join some sort of fanatical conservative cult that thinks women should submit their free will.”

She didn’t look at him as she admitted, “It’s not that I don’t believe in a higher power. I do. But I’ll never get behind a religion that views my life as a stain that needs to be cleansed. I am who I am.”

“You’re not a stain.”

She laughed without humor. “Filthy, that’s the word my mom likes to use.”

“Were they angry you didn’t go with them?”

“Not at first. I had no money, and they planned to sell the house. I think they thought I’d eventually follow them out of desperation. But I was only desperate to find a way to stay.”

“That had to be scary.”

“I cried a lot. I didn’t want to leave. I had a life here. Friends.”

“I’m glad you were stubborn.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

“How did you wind up getting the house?”

“I saw an open submission post on social media calling for stories. I figured I always got decent grades in English, and I could write something. I never expected it to go anywhere, but hoped I might be able to sell it for a hundred bucks and maybe write a few more. If I sold enough, I could come up with a down payment for an apartment and try living on my own.”

He chuckled, knowing how the story ends. “Sounds like you underestimated yourself.”

“A bit.” She grinned, the coldness in her chest cracking as a sense of warmth spread like a warm, comforting hug.

The waiter returned, and the conversation paused as plates were set across the table, tempting aromas wafting from each dish. Pan-seared scallops in an autumn corn puree over sage brown butter with ribbons of prosciutto. Dry-aged lamb chops with rosemary and crispy potato cakes.