Kept (36 page)

His eyes widened, and he pulled back.

“Oh, that’s right,” she breathed. She looked at his mouth, then up at his eyes. “You’re not like ordinary men.” She shoved him away and raced for home.

Dillan clenched his teeth as Miska ran, her ponytail swishing behind her.

Why do you care, Dillan?

She vanished up the stairs. The top of her head bobbed out of view.

A horn blared.

He jerked and strained to see the road.

What if something happened to her? What if Mark was a killer and came after her? Forget that. If Mark was a killer and she went back to him, she’d always be in danger.

He rubbed his chest where she’d punched him. While it had made him angry, it hadn’t hurt. As strong as she was, she’d be no match for a ticked-off Scheider.

And the truth was that he did care. Too much.

Maybe he should tell her.

If she knew people cared, if she knew she had options—

Dillan took the stairs two at a time. At the crosswalk he waited for a gap in traffic, searching for Miska. The spring green of her tank top flashed into view. She was already near the fountain—and moving fast.

He crossed the road and darted around tourists and a biker, barely keeping her in view. He reached the western edge of the fountain and another street. Waited again for traffic to clear. Ran across the bridge above the train tracks.

The street curved to the right, leading to their block. She crossed Michigan Avenue, the walk sign flashing. He pushed himself to catch it, but the sign changed. Traffic pinned him where he was. He leaned over, hands pressed to his thighs, and sucked in air, watching her slow to a walk.

Good.

What was he going to say? What was the right thing to say? A frustrated chuckle escaped. How did he make her see that caring about the right thing
was
caring about people?

The light changed, and he jogged across the street, a cramp in his side.

She reached their building and vanished inside.

Dillan pushed himself to a run.

At the entrance, he caught a glimpse of her entering the elevator bank. He sprinted down the hallway, flashed a smile at the day doorman, and yanked open the glass door to the elevators.

An elevator was closing. He prayed it belonged to Miska and stuck his hand between the doors.

They slid back, revealing her slouched against a wall.

Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to convince you that I’m not out to use you.”

She rolled her eyes.

The doors tried to close. He pushed them back. “I
do
care about you, Miska. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Wow. Such a gentleman. Like when you completely snubbed me at your party.”

His neck warmed. “I’d just seen you with Kendall. You—it disgusted me.”

“
It
disgusted you? You were going to say I did, weren’t you?”

“It was right after I gave you a ride home. We had fun, Miska. I shared myself with you, and then to find out how you really lived and that you had to be laughing at me—”

“So it’s not about me. It’s about you. About how dumb you feel.”

Man, she knew how to get under his skin.

“Isn’t it?” she asked.

“Can I finish?”

“Go ahead. You’re doing great.”

“I don’t talk to women about things we’ve talked about—”

“What things?”

Like she didn’t know. “About waiting. About how guys think.”

“So?”

“So I did with you.”

She raised one eyebrow, her head tilted.

“Come on, Miska. How can you say I don’t care when we’ve talked? Really talked?”

She laughed. “That’s talking? Yikes. I’d hate to see you clam up.”

Fine. He was done. He stepped out of the elevator. “Have a nice day.” He turned his back, waited until the doors whooshed shut and the elevator hummed. He pressed the call button and turned.

Miska leaned against the wall, her arms crossed.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

She pushed off the wall with her shoulder. “Sorry. I was intentionally bating you.”

“No kidding. Really?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I just apologized.”

He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Yeah. Sorry.”

She nodded. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“You were defending yourself. You said you wanted to finish.”

Oh, he had. “I’m done, Miska.”

“Dillan.” She grabbed his forearm, and he looked down at her soft brown hand. “Tell me why you bother with me. Please.”

He stepped back, freeing his arm. How honest should he be with her? How much should he say?

Hadn’t he chased her down to be honest? Finally?

He had. So here it went. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

She blinked at him.

“I used to think that was why I couldn’t get you out of my mind. From the day I knocked you and Scheider over, I tried to avoid you. We had nothing in common, you know?”

Her eyes lowered to his chest.

“But I kept running into you. I blamed Tracy, but then she and Garrett broke up, and we still crossed paths.”

She toyed with her fingernails.

“Somehow, Miska, we’ve become friends—of a sort. I’d hate to see anything happen to you. I care—” He gulped down the words. Man, this was hard. “I care what happens to you. I care about
you
. Every time you’re at church, every time you ask about God, I get excited. I can’t help it. He means everything to me, and I know how much your life would change if you’d follow him.” There. He’d said what he could. He planted his hands on his hips and waited while she worked her fingers.

She started to speak, but an elevator dinged. The doors slid open, and a man dressed for the office stepped out. He sent them a curious glance as he left.

She kept her gaze on her hands. “You said we were friends of a sort. If I became a Christian, how would that change?”

Now there was a place he couldn’t afford to go. He forced a grin. “I don’t know. Why don’t you do it and we find out?”

“Dillan, I’m serious.” She raised her eyes to his. “I’m being completely open with you. How would things change?”

There was honest pain in her eyes. He searched their dark depths. Was she saying she was interested in him? Still? That crush she’d mentioned a few weeks ago? She didn’t feel that way anymore, did she?

He rubbed a hand across his shirt. He couldn’t go there. He really couldn’t go there. What on earth did he say to this?

“Dillan?”

He hung his head. Even if she did become a Christian, would he ever trust her? She had such a wild past. Two athletes at once, some naked guy whose name she didn’t even know—and there was no way they were the first.

Not even close.

Could he ever be serious about a woman like her? As much as he was drawn to her, there was no way they could build a life together. Even someone like Tracy would be preferable to her.

He could never say that.

She pressed the call button.

Dillan watched her profile.

She stared at the wall, her mouth a straight line, then turned away, but not before he caught a tear skimming down her cheek.

“Miska,” he groaned, stepping toward her.

An elevator dinged behind them, and she stepped away, toward the opening doors.

He followed her in.

She yanked her hair out of her ponytail, and the dark strands fell around her face, hiding her.

Dillan pressed the eighteen. The doors closed, and the elevator rose.

She rested her head against the wall.

“Miska.”

“Hmm.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

The words ratcheted up the guilt. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

She flicked her hair aside and looked at him. Her cheeks were damp, the only evidence that there had been tears. “I’m not being passive-aggressive. Let’s move on.”

But now he couldn’t. “I can’t say how things would change between us because I don’t know. We’d have God in common, which is a big deal. So at some level we’d be better friends.”

Sadness coated her smile. “That’s good to hear.”

He nodded. Clearly it wasn’t the answer she’d been looking for. She
had
wondered how far their relationship could go. If they could have a romantic relationship.

And he’d made it plain they could not.

The elevator dinged. The doors opened.

Dillan held out a hand for her to go first. At least here he could be a real gentleman.

Inside her condo, Miska set her phone on the island. Well, she knew. She’d wanted to know, and she knew. Even if she chose to believe like Dillan, there could never be anything between them.

The lake sparkled through a window, but she ignored it and plopped onto the couch. She’d put him in an awkward spot. She should have known better, really.

Hadn’t she sat with Tracy through the other side of the situation? Listened to her say that she’d never be able to believe that Garrett had really changed? Hadn’t Dillan watched his own brother go back? Was it any wonder he refused to get involved with her?

She tucked her arms between her knees, hands clasped, and stared at the coffee table. For the first time in a long time, she was alone. No men in her life, if she didn’t count Mark. It was strange to know that she was completely on her own. Finally she could focus on what was best for her.

But she still had bills. If she stayed single, she’d have to get roommates again. Or sell. If she didn’t, she risked losing the condo and the entirety of Mom’s legacy.

She wouldn’t do that.

Her laptop lay open and waiting on her desk. She forced herself off the couch. She needed to get some work in.

But the John book, peeking beneath a bill, caught her attention. Had it only been a week since she’d read about the woman at the well? She flipped through the pages, stopping at chapter five, the chapter the church group would discuss Wednesday. Tonight.

The chapter was full of miracles—a man healed, five thousand men fed with five loaves and two fish, Jesus walking on water—and in between them were words that seemed to be written to her.

He who hears My word and believes in Him who sent Me has everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment… I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger…

Her life was constant hunger.

Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life
.

Simon Peter’s words were hopeless and hopeful at the same time. There was no one else but Jesus because He alone had the words of life.

Was that true?

She flipped back to the beginning of the passage and read it again. Was Jesus the only one who had the truth? Did he alone offer answers?

Dillan’s life—and Tracy’s—gave compelling evidence that it was true.

This is the will of Him who sent Me, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in Him may have everlasting life…

Did she believe? And if she did, why?

Because it couldn’t be for Dillan anymore. He’d made that clear. If she was going to choose this Jesus, this God, then it had to be completely because she believed it, not because it might get her a good man.

Do not labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to everlasting life…

Certainly she’d been working for things that perished. For food which had to be bought again and again. For clothes that snagged. For furniture that broke. For clients who shut down—

Was there something more?

Tracy thought so. Dillan thought so.

He who comes to Me shall never hunger.

How she was tired of hungering. Of always chasing another man, another night that failed come morning.

Lord, to whom shall we go?

If God alone had the words of life, then she owed it to herself to find out.

Tonight.

The singles’ room was filling up.

Already seated, Dillan looked up from his notes for Sunday as Garrett sat beside him. “Hey, Gare.”

“Hey.” Garrett sent a nod to Ethan across the room before resting his gaze on Tracy.

Who sat beside Miska.

Dillan cleared his throat. “Haven’t seen you with Ethan lately.”

“That’s on purpose.” Garrett stretched his legs beneath the chair in front of him. “Miska’s here again.”

That had been a surprise. He’d looked up just as she’d entered, and she’d sent him a painful smile he did his best to return.

“You talk to her lately?”

“This morning.”

“How’d that go?”

Dillan rubbed his nose. “Great.”

“Had she heard about the baby?”

“No. Mark called her, though.”

Garrett swiveled in his seat. “For real? Wow. That is messed up.”

Austin stepped to the podium, and the room quieted.

Dillan locked his fingers together. He shouldn’t have said anything. Garrett had never been good at keeping things to himself. “Don’t repeat it.”

Garrett flashed him a look that said Dillan could trust him.

It wasn’t any comfort.

The study began. After reading the passage, people asked questions and pointed out things that caught their attention.

Austin called on Miska.

When she spoke, her gaze remained on her open book. “There’ve been a lot of verses that stood out, but the main one for me is where Jesus calls himself the bread of life. He says that whoever comes to him will never hunger. Last week he called himself living water.” She looked up. “It’s clear what he’s saying. So how do we know if it’s true? Because either he’s right or he’s wrong.”

Dillan held his breath.

Austin nodded. “It’s a good question and one we’ve all faced. How do we know that the Bible is true?” Austin flipped through his book. “One of the study questions asked us to share how we became a Christian and how God satisfies us. Who wants to start?”

Amanda volunteered. She’d come from a Christian family, saved at age eight.

Great. Not at all like Miska. Didn’t answer her question one bit.

Jordan was next. Saved at five. Currently going to a Christian college where she saw God answer prayer requests from herself or her friends every day.