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Back Confess to Me Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Sharon Doering
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. 75
  81. 76
  82. 77
  83. 78
  84. 79
  85. Author’s Note
  86. Acknowledgements
  87. About the Author

She smiled, her eyes dreamy, as if I’d told her a love story. “I get that, I do.” She took a few steps back toward the van. “But when you know people are bad, when you know for sure, it doesn’t make things better. It’s worse.” She turned, stepped in, and slid the door closed.

52

52

TREVOR

There was a Prius in Mom’s driveway, so I parked on the street behind Paulina’s car. Who drove a Prius?

I pulled my keys out of the ignition and stepped out of my Toyota. I had worked an honest, productive day at J&B. Logos—white space with a spray of color and bold letters just off-center—lingered in my mind.

The front door opened, and an old man stepped out. He wore khaki pants and a tweed jacket. He held a book in his hand.

It took me a second. I forced a smile over clenched teeth. “Hey, Father Greg.” I crossed the lawn. “What a surprise. What brings you here?”

“Oh, hello there, Trevor. Your mother’s nurse, Paulina, called me, said your mother was asking after me. We had a lovely visit.”

These women. These stupid women who adored their priests. They were like schoolgirls. They loved fussing over their clergy, loved that they could flirt with these men because it was one-sided and safe.

I shook Father Greg’s hand. He had a firm grip, and his hand was warm and comfortable. He smiled and looked me in the eye, and let me go after a beat. Priests had perfected the handshake. No one did it better. “Nice to see you,” I said. “I’d better get inside.” I turned toward the house.

“It’s good to have you back in town, even if it’s for your mother’s sickness.” He pressed an index finger to his lips as if it would clear his mind. “You know, the funniest thing. Your mother told me you married one of the Hornne girls. Is it Heather?”

Chills pricked along my scalp. “Yes. Heather.”

“She stopped by to visit me the other day. She had questions about her mom.”

Rage blossomed in my chest. Hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had worked so hard to protect Heather. “Oh. OK,” I said. “Good to talk, Father. I’d better get inside.”

On the porch, I fished in my pocket for Mom’s house key. My cell buzzed with a text.

-Tomorrow. 4 p.m. Parking lot of Paul Bunyan’s Canteen.

53

53

HEATHER

Today had been draining, so it was especially uplifting that two of our monarchs hatched from their chrysalises.

Sawyer, Emily, and I sat on chairs on the back deck. Both kids had a butterfly latched to their pointer finger, hanging upside down and flapping its wings slowly.