This chapter will explain some of the differences between this type of church and more traditional churches. It is for informative purposes only, and not at all meant to insinuate that more traditional churches are somehow inferior. :)

I wake up stiff and sore when my alarm goes off at 5am, having spent the night sleeping on the floor so Katniss could have the futon. I sit up and stretch, working some of the kinks out before checking over my leg, making sure it didn't start bleeding again during the night.

With the bandage still pristine white, I grab my crutches and hobble into the bathroom. Katniss warned me to not get the bandage wet for a couple of days, so I tie the plastic shopping bag from her Rite Aid trip last night carefully over everything, and literally hop into the shower.

Katniss is still sound asleep once I'm showered and dressed, her small hands curled up under her chin and her dark braid stretched out over my pillow. I had given her one of my t-shirts and an old pair of sweatpants to sleep in, and as I look closer, I can see part of the t-shirt neckline balled up in one of her hands.

My hands almost ache to touch her, this wonderful girl who took such amazing care of me last night. Not even my own mother ever took as good a care of me as Katniss did. And then to simply accept the awful story of my accident and the events that led up to it, well, if it was possible for me to love her any more than I already do, that would've done it.

As much as I want to kiss her goodbye, I don't dare try while she's sleeping. So instead, I carefully brush a strand of hair away from her face and tuck the blanket up to her neck. I'm rewarded with her sighing gently in her sleep, so I press my hand briefly to her shoulder and then make my way, as quietly as I can, towards the door and down the stairs to begin my work.

Even with having to sit down on the stool in the kitchen or hobbling around on my crutches, I manage to get all of my scheduled baking done for the day by 10am. Hurrying around to the front of the shop, I purchase two hot chocolates and a couple of doughnuts, not even thinking about how in the world I'll be able to get them back upstairs on my crutches until I've already paid and packaged everything up.

"Way to think ahead, Mellark," I mumble, staring blankly towards the set of steps that tried their best to re-cripple me last night. After pondering for a minute or so, I brace the crutches against the wall in the stairway, and, grateful for the little plastic stoppers in the cocoa cups, sit down on the third step and push my way up with my arms and good leg, moving the food gradually up the steps above me until I've made it to the top. Then I hop back down to retrieve the crutches before finally knocking on the door. Thank you Jesus that I didn't drop everything. And thank you that Katniss wasn't around to see that fiasco.

"Peeta?" Katniss calls from inside.

"Yeah, it's me," I say as Katniss opens the door. She looks like she just woke up, still wearing my t-shirt that hangs off of her slender shoulders and the sweatpants with the waistband rolled over four times. Wisps of her gorgeous hair have come loose from her braid, framing her face. She has never looked more beautiful.

"Hey," I say after a few seconds. "Did you sleep okay?"

Katniss wraps her arms around herself. "Yes," she whispers. "It was the best sleep I've had in a long time."

Wow. That's definitely not what I was expecting. My futon isn't too bad, but it's still just a futon. "Really?" I say. "On that old thing? Sometimes I think the floor would be more comfortable."

But Katniss shakes her head. "No, it was fine. I was fine." She looks at me, that sweet, soft smile on her face. "I felt safe," and she grabs a handful of the t-shirt, pulling it away from her body. "And this... well, it smells like you. I like it."

I'm too busy grinning like a fool to realize that I'm still standing in the open doorway, with the hot chocolate and doughnuts sitting on the floor next to the door. "Um," I stutter, finally snapping back to my senses. "Well, you can keep it, if you like. It looks much better on you than it ever did on me."

Katniss smiles again, just briefly before her gaze is drawn to the food sitting on the floor. "Is that breakfast?"

"Oh!" I exclaim, bending over to pick up the bag of doughnuts. "Yeah. It's just a couple of doughnuts, sorry. They don't sell the cheese buns until closer to lunchtime."

"They make you buy them, even though you made them yourself?" Katniss asks, reaching for the bag.

"Yeah," I admit, sheepishly. "They comp my rent a bit, so... But I do get an employee discount at least."

"Well, that's good," she says as she carries everything over to the coffee table. She opens the doughnut bag and inhales deeply, closing her eyes and sighing. "I can tell you made them though. They smell amazing."

"Oh?" I ask as I sink gratefully down onto the futon, reaching for my own doughnut. "And how is that?"

"Well, I smell traces of cinnamon on your t-shirt," she says, clutching a handful of the fabric to her nose. "And the cheese buns smell like baked cheese, and basil, and dill. And this," as she holds up her doughnut with a bite taken from it, "this smells like vanilla." She breaks off a piece and stuffs it into her mouth, chewing carefully. "A girl could get used to this pretty fast."

Feeling emboldened by her heartwarming words, I lean in for a kiss. "I haven't ever heard anyone describe anything that I've made quite like that," I say, kissing her nose. "I think you've just given me a new appreciation for my baking abilities."

Katniss giggles and takes a sip of her cocoa. Then she holds up the cup, eyeing it suspiciously before glancing back towards the door. "Peeta?"

"Yeah?" I reply, taking a sip of my own cocoa.

"Um, how did you manage to get all of this up the stairs without help?"

Her question causes me to inadvertently inhale while trying to swallow. Once my throat is clear and I'm able to breathe again, I shake my head. "Uh, I'd rather not say. I'm sure it looked pretty ridiculous."

To her credit, Katniss doesn't press the issue, but she does manage to scowl at me before popping the last bite of her doughnut into her mouth. "You know Peeta, you don't have to do everything for yourself all the time," she says once she's finished chewing. "It's okay to ask for help when you need it."

"Yeah, I know," I mumble, studying the top of my cocoa cup. "I'm sorry."

Katniss takes one final sip of her drink and stands up. "Do you mind if I use your shower? I'll just take a few minutes and then we can head down the mountain."

"No, of course not!" I exclaim, moving to hoist myself up off the futon. "Let me get you a tow-"

I'm stopped with her firm hand on my shoulder. "I know where the towels are," she chastises. "You just sit."

"Okay, okay."

Ten minutes later Katniss is ready to go. She offers her hand to help me stand up, and holds onto my arm as we make our way precariously down the stairs and out to her truck. Going down steps on crutches is much more difficult than going up.

It's an absolutely beautiful autumn day here in the mountains, with the crisp sunlight and the multi-colored trees sprinkling the various peaks and valleys as we drive. Even with my bum leg, I feel happier right now than I have in a long, long time.

The medical supply store is there, right where I remember it being, and while I grimace as I hand over my debit card to pay for a year's worth of the cloth sleeves, along with a jar of medicated skin cream, the look of satisfaction on Katniss's face makes it worth it.

"There," she says as we exit the store. "That wasn't so bad. Don't you feel better now?"

"Yeah," I admit grudgingly. "I just wish they weren't so expensive. I mean, it's just cloth! Someone good with a needle and thread could probably make them for a fraction of the cost!"

Katniss shakes her head, apparently amused at my lack of knowledge regarding medical technology. "But this particular kind of cloth is patented, with built-in moisture-wicking and antimicrobial properties, and probably represents years of research by the company that developed and produced it." She takes the crutches from me and unlocks the passenger door of the truck. "Not exactly something you can find at Joann's Fabrics."

"I guess not," I say, my voice trailing off as I follow Katniss's gaze to the sweet shop next door. "What?"

"I'll be right back," she says, handing me back my crutches, along with the keys to the truck. "Just stay here."

"O-kay," I say to her retreating back, smiling and shaking my head. But instead of climbing into the truck, I shove my crutches inside and close the door again, leaning against it. I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun on my face.

"There you are!" I hear a few minutes later, startling me from a very nice daydream. "What are you doing leaning against that old pickup?"

"Huh?" I mumble, opening my eyes and blinking against the bright sunlight. There's a pretty blonde woman standing in front of me, holding a shopping bag in one hand, with the other hand on her hip and an annoyed look on her face.

"Wait, you're not... Peeta?" she says, squinting. "Is that you? Oh my gosh, how long has it been?"

And this is one very big reason why I don't like coming into town. "Hey Madge," I say, with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. "How're you doing?"

"I'm fine!" she exclaims. "It's so good to see you, it's been a long time!"

"Yeah, well, you know. I'm pretty busy, with school and work, and church." Please Katniss, come back now!

"You're almost done with school though, right? Do you know what you'll be doing after you graduate yet?"

"Not exactly, but I have a few ideas. Hopefully one of them will pan out for me." KATNISS! "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, my father's sort of taken me under his wing a bit. I'm officially a member of his staff, but he's been basically training me to run for mayor myself someday. If I could get elected, that is. Victors County hasn't ever had a woman for a mayor before."

"That's nice. I'm sure with how smart you are, you'll have no trouble getting elected when the time comes," I say, trying to sound as sincere as possible. "Hey, who'd you think I was, when you first saw me?"

"Why, Rye of course. Haven't you heard? We've been dating for almost a year now. He's in one of these stores somewhere..." and her voice trails off, looking around.

"You're going out with my brother?" I say, feeling the knee on my good leg start to weaken. "How nice." Please Katniss, come back!

"Yeah, he's here somewhere... there he is! Rye! Look who I found!" Madge practically shouts, waving my older brother, who I haven't seen in over eighteen months, over to join us.

Rye and I were often mistaken for twins while we were growing up, even though he's almost two years older than me. We're pretty much the same height, and our hair and eye color are close enough at first glance to look identical. As he walks towards me, I can see that he's even wearing almost the same clothes as I am today. No wonder Madge thought I was him.

"Peet!" Rye says, sauntering over to the truck. "Long time, no see, huh?"

"Hey Rye," I reply, squinting against the sun. "Yeah, it's been awhile. You know how school is. They like to run us pretty ragged up there."

"Yeah, well, that's what you get for going to that type of school. You know I pretty much breezed through college myself. I'm surprised you don't take after me that way."

"Yeah, well, at the school you went to, you could've majored in beer drinking and still graduated," I retort, trying to sound teasing. Truth be told Rye isn't stupid, just has a tendency to be lazy, and he barely scraped by with his BA in Business Administration. Still, our mother was proud of him because his degree meant that he could take over the accounting responsibilities for the bakery, something she had never enjoyed.

"Ha, ha, ha," he says, grinning. He slides an arm around Madge's waist. "So, what brings you into town?"

I swallow hard. My accident is still a very sore subject within my family. "Um...". Just then Katniss comes out of the sweet shop and walks over to us, looping her hand through my arm. Smiling gratefully, I cover her hand with my own. "Ah, Katniss and I were just doing some shopping. You know, various things."

I see Rye's eyes traveling up and down over my girlfriend. "Hello," he finally says, holding out his hand. "I'm Rye, Peeta's brother."

"Hello," Katniss says, rather coolly, shaking my brother's hand with her left. "Nice to meet you."

"This is Katniss," I say, squeezing her hand that's locked around my arm. "Katniss Everdeen."

"Hi Katniss, I'm Madge," Madge says, throwing a harsh look towards Rye, presumably for his failure to introduce her. "Madge Undersee. I went to school with Peeta. Through high school, at least."

"Nice to meet you," Katniss says quietly.

"Do you go to school with Peeta now?" Madge asks.

"We met at church," I say, cutting in. "Katniss works at the Community Center."

Rye is still eyeing Katniss up and down, like he's sizing her up or something. "I think I recognize you!" he exclaims, snapping his fingers. "You're from Seam County, right?"

I feel Katniss freeze next to me. "Yes," she mumbles. "But-"

"She lives up on the mountain now," I say. "About fifteen minutes from church." I squeeze her hand again and turn, opening the truck door. "Look, we really need to get going-"

"You know, Peeta," Rye interrupts. "I'm sure Dad would love it if you came home for Christmas this year. Madge'll be there, and Ban and his wife will be there. It'll be like old times-"

"I'm not sure what we're doing for Christmas yet," I say crossly. I nod towards Katniss, hopefully conveying that I want to get out of here ASAP. "I can let you know once we decide."

Rye opens his mouth, most likely in retort, but then thinks better and closes it. "All right," he murmurs. "Let us know then. And have a nice day."

"See ya," I say as I close the car door. We back out of the parking lot and turn onto the main road, heading back towards the mountain. Katniss's lips are pressed together, her hands gripping the wheel so hard her knuckles are white. She's plainly upset about something.

"Hey," I say tentatively, laying my hand on her knee. "Are you okay?"

She doesn't look at me, continuing to stare straight out the windshield, keeping her death grip on the steering wheel. "That was your brother," she finally says.

"Yeah. I have two of them. Rye's the middle one. Why?"

She inhales shakily. "And before today, when was the last time you saw him?"

I lean back against the seat, raking my hand through my hair. "I don't know, almost two years? I think? It's been quite a while."

Suddenly Katniss brakes hard, swerving sharply onto the shoulder of the road and scaring me half to death. Putting the truck into park, she turns to me, her grey eyes flashing with anger. "And tell me why, exactly, you haven't seen your own brother for almost two years?"

"I-" I say, stunned into silence with the fire behind her unexpected question. "Um, we don't exactly get along all that well..."

"And why is that?" she asks, avoiding my attempt to grab her hand.

"I don't-, I don't know," I mumble, my face reddening in shame. "My family wasn't exactly all that supportive after my accident, and my mom flipped out when I told her I wanted to go to Bible college. I told you that, remember?"

"Yes," she says, finally allowing me to grasp her hand. "But you didn't tell me you hadn't spoken to them in so long. That doesn't seem like you, Peeta. They're your family!"

"Yeah, well...". But I really don't have a good argument for her. There really isn't a single, good reason that I can come up with right now, that would explain why I haven't at least tried to extend an olive branch after all of these years.

"You never know, when the last time might be that you'll see your family," Katniss continues, her voice rising and her eyes welling with tears. "My whole family is dead, Peeta! My mom, my dad, and my sister are all dead!" She sniffs loudly, scrubbing at her eyes with her palm. "Haymitch is the closest family member that I have left, and yet here you have an entire family that you're choosing to ignore! And why? Just because your parents refused to pay for your college?"

Tears welling in my own eyes, I bring her hand up to my lips. Colossians 3:13 says, make allowance for each other's faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Finnick reminds me of this verse all the time. How could I be so dense?

"Katniss, I'm so sorry." I reach my other hand over to her face, brushing her tears away with my thumb. "I'm so sorry. You're right. I should try and talk to them. I've been so bitter about how everything was after my accident, but you're right. I need to forgive them. I'm so sorry."

She tilts her head into my hand, closing her eyes. "Yes, you do," she whispers. "You need to."

I lean in further, kissing her nose before working my way down to her lips. "And I'm sorry," I repeat, planting another kiss on her forehead. "I'm so sorry about your parents, and your sister."

She shifts, burying her face into my shoulder. "You already knew though, didn't you?"

"I suspected," I say quietly. "But I wasn't going to ask until you were ready to tell me."

Pulling back and sniffing, she grabs for a tissue from the box shoved under the center console and starts wiping her eyes. "Then, aren't you going to ask me how?"

I wrap my hand around her wrist, stilling her movements. "Are you ready to tell me?"

Katniss looks out the window towards the mountain, cars whizzing by us on the road. "No," she says. "Not yet. And not here. But I will... soon."

I nod, kissing the back of her hand. "Okay. I'll be here, when you're ready."

"Okay," she replies, sounding more like herself again. She squeezes my hand one last time before easing the truck back onto the road. "Do you mind if we stop at Haymitch's house? I really should check on him, since I wasn't there last night."

"No, of course not," I say, excited at the prospect of finally meeting her uncle. "I can even make us something to eat there, if you'd like me to."

"That sounds fine," she says. "It would do Haymitch some good to eat a decent meal for a change."

About thirty minutes later Katniss eases the truck onto a crushed-gravel driveway, leading to a small ranch house badly in need of a paint job. The scraggly bushes under the front windows are overgrown and half dead, and the railing on the cracked concrete steps is rusted and broken. Katniss unlocks and opens the front door, holding her index finger to her lips, indicating for me to be quiet.

"Haymitch doesn't like visitors," she whispers.

The inside of the house has a slight stale smell of old alcohol, combined with the harsh scent of disinfectant. It's apparent that the owner of the house hadn't put much effort into its upkeep until recently.

"You think it's bad now," Katniss says, noticing my nose wrinkled in disgust. "When I first got here, the smell was so bad it made my eyes water. The very next day I went and picked up my friend Gale's mom, Hazelle, and had her help me clean it. It took us almost three days to get it somewhat livable in here."

Katniss told me earlier that Haymitch had been medically discharged from the Army, and was living off his disability benefits from Gulf War Syndrome. She said he doesn't hardly sleep at night, as that's when he prefers to be awake, drinking and watching television. He sleeps during the day, or whenever he passes out, and doesn't really eat unless she makes him eat. Since it's just after 1pm right now, chances are good that he's asleep somewhere.

I follow Katniss through the living room, littered with empty and half-empty liquor bottles, and into the kitchen, trying to hobble as quietly as I can on my crutches. Katniss stops in front of me as we enter the kitchen, pointing towards the table.

"There he is," she says, shaking her head. "Typical."

Haymitch is sitting at the kitchen table, his arms sprawled across the wood grain and his face in a puddle of liquor, snoring loudly. Katniss walks right up to him, shaking his shoulder. "Haymitch, get up." The man's snoring stops for a moment as he turns his head, then resumes. Katniss shakes him again, harder. "Haymitch, wake up!"

Frustrated, Katniss fills a glass with water from the sink and pours it over his head, moving out of the way just in time to avoid the flying chair that Haymitch kicks as he jumps to his feet, wielding a large knife that he apparently was sleeping with. My eyes widen with fright as he slashes blindly at the air, spewing profanity for a few seconds before coming to his senses, blinking and scowling.

"What in the hell are you doing?" he sputters to Katniss. His eyes scan the room, with him raising his knife again as he sees me. "And who the hell are you?"

"This is Peeta," Katniss says, rushing over to loop her hand through my arm. "I told you about him, remember?"

Haymitch stares at me through narrowed eyes. I can definitely see a family resemblance between him and Katniss. Although Haymitch's face is lined and his hair streaked with silver, it's the same color otherwise as Katniss's hair, and his eyes are a similar shade of grey. His skin tone, however, carries a sallowness to it that I'm guessing is due to his alcoholism.

"Hmph," Haymitch grunts, eyeing me thoroughly. "The baker boy, huh?"

"It's nice to meet you, sir," I say.

Grunting again, Haymitch waves haphazardly with his hand still holding the knife. "No one's called me 'sir' in a long time." He reaches for the open liquor bottle on the table and raises it to his lips, taking a long drink. "What're doing here?" he asks, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Peeta's offered to make us a late lunch," Katniss says. "And you need to take a shower." She points her finger at his chest. "It's been at least three days since you've showered, and you stink."

"Ya well, you shoulda told me I was having company," Haymitch grumbles, taking another long pull from his bottle.

Rolling her eyes, Katniss grabs him by the arms, turning him around and pointing him into the apparent direction of the bathroom. "Go get cleaned up," she orders. "So Peeta can get lunch started and I can wash your filthy clothes."

Despite its bedraggled appearance, the kitchen is stocked well enough for me to make a simple pasta dish and a loaf of homemade French bread. Haymitch eats his entire plateful and asks for seconds. Remembering what Katniss told me, about him not really eating unless she cooked for him, sends a twinge of guilt up my spine for keeping her away from home last night. The food even seems to sober him up enough to carry on a semi-normal conversation, with him asking me some questions about my job at the coffee shop.

"Never heard of a church owning a coffee shop," he says, popping a hunk of bread into his mouth.

"Yeah, well, our church feels that it's a regular part of the community," I say, with a glance at Katniss. She nods, so I continue. "It allows exposure to Biblical truths in a casual setting that people are familiar with and comfortable in. All the coffee that we sell is fair trade, and all of the profits are used for our community outreach projects, as well as overseas missions."

"Other than the Christian music playing, the Bibles on the tables, and the couple of Bible verses written on the walls, you wouldn't know it was owned by a church," Katniss says. She smiles at me. "And the cheese buns are delicious."

"Hmm," Haymitch says, belching loudly. "Sounds like church has come a long way from speaking only Latin and singing hymns that are centuries old."

"And there's nothing wrong with that, if that's what you prefer," I say quickly. "But there's a great many out there who enjoy our approach, and our church has been growing rather fast lately."

"You should come sometime," Katniss says to him. Her voice is casual, but I recognize the hopeful note to it. "I think you'd love the music."

Haymitch smiles, a humoring smile, and shakes his head. "I'm busy on Saturday nights, Sweetheart. That's when I watch The Sopranos."

Katniss rolls her eyes as she stacks up the lunch plates, bringing them over to the sink to start washing dishes. I watch as Haymitch grabs his liquor bottle and stumbles over to the living room, plopping down onto the couch and turning on the television.

"Don't mind him," Katniss says, scrubbing furiously at a stubborn speck on one of the plates. "I think he's a hopeless cause."

Forgoing my crutches for the moment, I hop over to the sink, wrapping my arm around her and taking the plate from her hand. "No one who's still living is a hopeless cause," I say, kissing her temple. "Not a one."

She doesn't respond for a few minutes, just hands me the dishes and flatware to dry as she washes them. "Peeta," she whispers, rinsing off the last of the cookware. "What exactly do you have to do?"

"What do you me-" I start to ask, interrupted by the look on her face. She looks tortured, like she's struggling with something hard. "Katniss?"

"You told me that Finnick and Annie prayed for you, and with you," she says, handing me the pasta strainer but refusing to look directly at me. "What exactly did they pray with you?"

Immediately my mouth goes dry as my heart starts to pound. I've never actually prayed with someone else to receive Jesus before. "Um, well," I say, swallowing hard. "Finnick asked me a few questions, and I answered them."

"What questions?" she asks. She's still refusing to meet my eyes, which I take to mean that she's merely curious at the moment, and not ready to pray just yet. That realization relaxes me a little. "He asked me if I believed that I was a sinner, and I said yes. Then, he asked if I believed that Jesus came to Earth to save people like me, and I said yes. Then, his final question was, if I agreed that through the belief in the sacrifice Jesus made for me, I could be saved. And I said yes."

"It's that simple?" she asks. Her eyes are wide with doubt. "That seems too easy."

"It is that easy," I say, reaching for her hand, intertwining our fingers together. "Romans chapter ten verses nine and ten spell it all out for us. If you openly declare that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is by believing in your heart that you are made right with God, and it is by openly declaring your faith, that you are saved."

Katniss looks unconvinced. "It still seems too easy."

I shake my head, tightening my fingers around hers. "God didn't intend for it to be difficult. He loves us, unconditionally, and what he asks us in return is to accept that love, and to love him back. And it's through his love that he changes us. He changes us into his own beloved sons and daughters. And then we take that love, that amazing love, and show it to others. And by showering others with the love and hope of Jesus, we can then, hopefully, save them."

"But," Katniss says. She's staring at our intertwined hands. "But what about baptisms, and confirmations, and First Communions, and all of that stuff?"

"There are a lot of people who attend churches that go through those steps," I say. "Our church doesn't, though. We're considered non-denominational, and so do things a little differently. We have baptisms, but they are not performed on babies. In our church, a person gets baptized once they accept Christ, as a public declaration of faith. And it's done like Jesus himself was baptized, which is full-body immersion. We use a baptismal pool at our church that looks like a round hot tub. And our baptism services are held around every three months or so. I think we have one coming up fairly soon."

She nods, still staring at our hands. "Do you have to do it in front of the whole church?"

"No, we've had people who've done private baptisms before. People have done it in the ocean, when they've been on vacation, for example. Or even in backyard pools. The only real requirement is that you're baptized by a fellow believer."

Katniss meets my eyes in surprise. "You mean, the Pastor doesn't do it?"

Smiling, I shake my head. "Only if that's who you choose to baptize you. And a lot of people do choose Pastor Dale, simply because he's the most visible of the pastors. But, for example, Thresh baptized his sister, Rue, and Finnick baptized me. I've seen wives baptize their husbands, and fathers baptize their sons and daughters. Who actually does it doesn't really matter, like I said. It's the act itself that's important."

Katniss nods, releasing my hand to retrieve my crutches from the corner by the table. "I just need to hang up the laundry, then we can go."

"Let me help-"

"No," she says, gently but firmly. "You go ahead and sit with Haymitch, I'll just be a few minutes."

Internally grumbling about my lack of a leg yet again, I hobble into the living room and sit down on the chair opposite the couch. Haymitch grunts in acknowledgment, but doesn't look up.

"Nice of you to get Sweetheart to get herself out of the house on occasion," he mumbles, not taking his eyes off the TV."

"Ah, your welcome?" I say, unsure exactly what I should say to something like that. "I very much enjoy spending time with her."

Haymitch scoffs, his eyes still trained on the television and his right hand wrapped protectively around his liquor bottle. "The way she talks about you, you'd think you hung the moon up in the sky. Then he turns, looking directly at me, his grey eyes narrowed. "So you'd better come up with something better than just enjoying spending time with her. Because the last thing that girl needs, is to lose someone else that she loves."

Biblical References:

Colossians 3:13

Romans 10:9-10

Please don't forget to leave a review! I appreciate them more than you know!