After pumping her stomach and giving her medication to offset the way her organs were starting to fail, his mother was alive. But Cody could barely bring himself to talk to her. He was sitting by her bedside now, and she was sleeping, stable after hours of critical care. Bailey would be out tonight with Tim, no doubt, or home with her family—doing everything Cody would’ve loved to have been doing right now. Anything but wrestling with the blaring realization that his mother was using again.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but eventually his thoughts took him back to Iraq—when he’d been a prisoner of war. No matter how bad things got back then he believed he’d find a way out. He prayed and trusted God and determined that one day he would be free—and when the day came, he was ready.
But drugs? Watching his mother slowly kill herself? There was no escaping this prison, no way around the fact that he was the only one who could care for her. And even then, any day, at any minute she could take a fatal dose or wind up crossing paths with the wrong drug dealer. She could be arrested or killed or die in a scene like the one he’d found earlier today.
It was a life of guilt and shame and regret, and Cody couldn’t free himself from it no matter what. He loved his mom, so he would stay. He would see her through the ups and downs to the end—whenever that came. He would pray and he would believe she could be set free if she chose Jesus over her addiction. The way he had done so many years ago. He would never give up, but he would never be free either. And that realization made him miss Bailey and her family until his body physically hurt from the pain.
Finally when he couldn’t take another minute watching his mom sleep off the effects of the drugs, when he wasn’t sure he could draw a breath without hearing Bailey’s voice, Cody stepped out of the room and called her number. It was late by then, almost ten o’clock, and he was pretty sure he’d be interrupting some sort of date night she’d be having with Tim. But he didn’t care. He wouldn’t take up much of her time.
She answered on the fourth ring, just when he was about to hang up.
“Hello?” Her voice was soft, and she sounded sleepy. “Cody?”
“Hi.” Tears scratched at his eyes and made his throat too tight to talk. He coughed quietly. He didn’t want to wake up his mother. Not now. “Am I…are you with Tim?”
“No.” She yawned. “I’m in bed. The boys are going fishing early with my dad. We turned in early.”
He wanted to ask if she’d seen Tim that night, but he had no right. His jealousy over the guy was getting out of hand. He massaged his brow and closed his eyes. “Bailey, I…I was wrong earlier. How I treated you.” He pictured the way she’d looked—at the football field—begging him to stay and talk to her. Her long brown hair blowing softly alongside her beautiful face, her blue eyes piercing his. Her long dancer legs and slight frame—no longer the kid she’d been when he had lived with them. She was so irresistible he’d had no choice but to leave. Otherwise she would’ve seen what had to be obvious to anyone.
He was in love with her.
“It’s okay.” She sounded more awake now, and a depth filled her tone. “I wanted you to know I’m done struggling. With Tim…with being his girlfriend.” She sighed, long and slow. “I hate how he treated you at the cafeteria, and I don’t know. Everything. I was gonna ask you to pray for me.”
“I will.” He savored her voice, the goodness of her. He held on as if by doing so he could will her here beside him. “I always pray for you. I told you that.”
“But today…you didn’t want to talk to me.” Her tone told him how hurt she’d been by his actions. “You’ve never been like that before.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” How could he explain that he could feel her slipping away? That a chasm lay between the reality of her life and the reality of his, and it was growing all the time? God…if You’d only give me a chance with her…I’d love her with every breath, the rest of my days. But even as he uttered the silent prayer, he knew it could never happen. Their worlds were simply too different. He clutched the phone more tightly, pressed it to his ear. “I’ll let you get back to sleep.” He wanted to say it, tell her how much he loved her. But it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. No matter what troubles she was having with Tim, he was better for her. Cody had known that since the day he returned from Iraq.
“Okay, well…” Bailey paused, as if she didn’t want to get off the phone. “Maybe you should get some sleep too.”
“Yeah.” He looked back at the hospital bed, at his mother still passed out from the effects of her drug binge. He turned away. “Sleep would be good.” He wanted to tell Bailey, wanted to pour out his heart and beg her to come down to the hospital with him. Just so he could hold her hand and believe somehow everything was going to get better. But he could never tell her what had happened that afternoon. The truth would only put more distance between them. No, hearing her voice, feeling her against his heart this way, would have to be enough.
“Hey, you were amazing today.” Her words were a caress against his wounded soul. “My dad talked about you all the way home. He says you’re very talented.”
“Thanks.” The compliment opened a window to a future that must have still existed outside the prison of the hospital room, the prison of his mother’s addiction. “I thought I’d love it, but it’s more than that. Really, Bailey. Like I was born to do this.”
“I’m not surprised.” She laughed lightly, keeping their conversation quiet since everyone else was asleep. “I mean, think about it, Cody. All those boring film sessions with my dad? Sitting there all those hours? We all should’ve known you’d be a coach one day. It was God’s destiny for you.” A softness filled her voice. “And look how good you are.”
“Hmm.” This was the best he’d felt all day. “That means a lot. Thanks.”
Again he had the sense Bailey wanted to talk longer, but there was nothing to say. He had no right to let the conversation go longer, and she must’ve sensed his desire to keep the call brief. “I’m glad you called.”
“Me too.” He held onto these final seconds, the way her words felt as close as breath against his skin. “I needed to hear your voice.” As soon as he said that, he wondered if he’d gone too far, let her see too much of how he was feeling.
But she didn’t act upset or taken aback. “Same here. Because now I know you’re not mad at me anymore.”
“I never was.” Again he longed to tell her everything he was feeling. But it was time to go. “Good night, Bailey.”
“Good night.”
He clicked the End button on his phone and slipped it back into his jeans pocket. Then he stepped into his mother’s room and fell back against the first wall he came to. He closed his eyes and willed himself to remember Bailey’s voice, her words. The nearness of her. If there was a way, he would run from the hospital room, from everything about his past and his mother’s past, and he wouldn’t stop until he had Bailey Flanigan in his arms.
But that could never happen. It was wrong to think of Bailey breaking up with Tim, no matter what she said. Wrong to think about her dating a recovering alcoholic whose mother was in the throes of drug addiction. Bailey wasn’t the girl for him, though she would forever set the standard for everything good about love. But that was just it—Bailey was too good. He’d known it for a long time, and the sooner he acknowledged that to his heart the better.
Somewhere out there, Cody had to believe God had a girl for him—a young woman who would love him despite his past, and who together with him would raise the sort of family he still believed in. A family who laughed and prayed together, cried and played together. The sort of family he believed in because once—for a short season—he’d been a part of a family like that. A family he would love forever.
The Flanigan family.
Twenty-Two
IN ABOUT TWELVE HOURS, BRANDON PAUL would be in Bloomington, Indiana, meeting with the producers of Unlocked. Which meant tonight was the absolute last night he could party this har
d for a long time. A week at least.
“Around back!” The music in the custom Escalade was loud, the way Brandon liked it. Beyoncé singing about her halo. Brandon crooned along with her. “Baby I can see your halo…”
His driver whipped the SUV to the back door of Club 21—the hottest new spot in Los Angeles. The paparazzi were waiting, but Brandon didn’t care. It wasn’t going in that got him in trouble. It was coming out. For that he’d have to be a little more careful.
Brandon gave the cameras a quick grin and ducked inside. Part of his entourage was already waiting—a couple guys he’d known back in his middle school football-playing days, and a new round of girls. Always a new round. The club was dark and loud and packed, the music pulsing.
“You’re finally here!” TJ, one of his friends, slapped him on the back. “We got a whole cheerleading team in the private room.”
“Really?” Brandon felt the thrill of all that lay ahead.
“Nah.” TJ laughed a little too hard, too loud. He was probably already on something—cocaine, maybe. “But a couple of the girls are hot. Come on…they got a sick spread back there.”
Brandon followed his friend toward the private room, and he realized he should’ve done something to disguise himself. A hat or dark glasses. Something. His arrival was causing too much commotion. People were pressing in, shoving paper at him, shouting for an autograph. Screaming his name.
“Let us through!” TJ held up his hand and pushed back, creating space.
For a moment, panic rose in Brandon’s heart. He had no bodyguards here, no one to stop the crowd. If they didn’t back off, Brandon and TJ could be crushed. That was the reality. TJ shouted again, and another minute of finagling and they were through to the private room.
Brandon looked around. TJ had greatly exaggerated. The room held a few of their buddies and a handful of girls. The night would be calmer than he expected. He stretched, still shaking off the sensation of being suffocated. As he did, a girl walked up—a brunette he’d never seen before. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she couldn’t walk straight.
Higher than a kite, he thought. Just the way I like ’em. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s your name?” Brandon met her partway across the room, leaving almost no space between them. The music wasn’t as loud in here, but the lights were dim. Brandon squinted at her, trying to make out her face. “Tell me your name.”
The girl did, but Brandon forgot it almost instantly. Names didn’t matter. He downed a couple of whiskey shots and felt himself loosen up. The girl was telling him about her modeling career, something about a runway job she had next weekend, when her friend walked up.
“Brandon Paul…what’s this I hear about you doing a Christian film?”
Heat filled his face and he chuckled, buying time. “You must have the wrong guy.”
“No. I read it in the paper.” She eyed him, obviously doubting that he would be aligned with anything Christian. “‘Brandon Paul to star in Unlocked.’ That’s what it said.”
He laughed again, like this was the funniest thing he’d heard in a long time. “Unlocked was a national bestseller.” He grabbed another shot from a passing tray and downed it. “The author’s a Christian, but don’t worry, baby.” He walked up to the new girl and kissed her full on the mouth. Really kissed her. It lasted half a minute before he pulled back. “There. That ease your doubts?” He grinned at the girl and her friend, and he took a few steps toward a table where people were doing coke. “Don’t think I’m turning Christian any time soon.”
He laughed then and he laughed as he set about doing blow with the guys. No one mentioned anything Christian the rest of the night, so he’d done what he wanted to do. He’d stopped anyone talking about him like that. Craziest thing, right? Brandon Paul doing a Christian film. He laughed at the idea the rest of the night. Never happen, not in a million years.
But no matter how often Brandon laughed about the comment, the scene haunted him. His words stayed with him while he was doing lines and later when he and some of the guys downed a few more shots. He skipped the girls. Couldn’t concentrate long enough to care. By the time TJ helped him back to his ride, he was wasted and even then the sound of his own voice screamed at him.
Don’t think I’m turning Christian any time soon…any time soon…any time soon.
Was that really how he felt? Could he make jokes about a faith he’d run from all his life? He collapsed in the backseat of the empty SUV and closed his eyes. Dimly he could hear the sound of cameras outside the vehicle, but he didn’t care. TJ wouldn’t let them get a clear shot of him like this, and with the tinted windows, he was safe from the paparazzi.
But was he safe from God?
Fear whispered in his ear and blew hot breath in his face. He thought about Unlocked and everything it stood for. Why was he compelled to do a picture like that when everything the girl had said was true? The book was written by a Christian novelist, and the producers were definitely Christians. Even Dayne Matthews—whose reputation was once bigger than Brandon’s. He put his hands over his ears and tried to block out the noise in his head.
This was crazy. He was Brandon Paul. Top star of NTM Studios. Heartthrob for teenage girls across the country. Every producer wanted him in one of their movies, right? So why choose a film like Unlocked? He felt sick to his stomach, scared about his flippant words. What had his mother told him once? The voices from a dozen conversations that night ran through his head, but he could hear his mother’s above the rest. Being a big star doesn’t mean anything to God, Brandon…one day you’ll have to stop running. I only hope it’s not too late.
Not too late…not too late…
“Stop it!” His words slurred together.
“’Sup, man?” The driver looked over his shoulder. “You chill, B?”
“Chill. Way chill.” He slumped back against the seat. “Get me home.”
But even that didn’t help, because once he was alone in his palatial hillside house, the voices only got louder. His own most of all. Don’t think I’m turning Christian any time soon…
The last thing he thought about before he crashed was his little co-star. Sweetheart Annie Sullivan. Innocent and wide-eyed. When they met for the first time, Annie peered up at him with those pretty blue eyes and said, “Do you love Jesus, Brandon? Because you should.”
He hadn’t even answered her. Just playfully flicked one of her braids and grinned. “You ask a lot of questions, little Annie.”
And that was that.
But now he couldn’t get the child’s face out of his mind. Annie Sullivan. So untainted by everything Hollywood, everything fame and fortune could someday do to her. Brandon put the pillow over his head and breathed through the crack. But that didn’t stop the voices. He had all the money in the world, but he couldn’t buy the one thing he wanted. The thing Annie Sullivan still had. The thing that eluded him every night, whether he was home alone or out getting wasted.
Peace of mind.
Especially tonight, with his own words keeping him awake, preventing sleep from getting a word in edgewise. Had he really said that about not being a Christian? Who was he like? Some Bible guy, some jerk who announced to the crowd something about not knowing Jesus, right? Brandon tried to remember the story from his childhood Sunday school days. Was it Paul…He rolled onto his other side, hating the dizziness, wanting the drugs and drink gone from his body now. No, it wasn’t Paul. He thought back, picturing himself as he’d once been. Just like Annie Sullivan.
But now he was just like…like…
He opened his eyes wide, the pillow still smashed to his head. “Peter!” he muttered. That was it; he was like Peter. Denying Jesus. He thought about the scene back at the club and he knew—for absolute certain—that if the girl asked the same question again, he’d answer it exactly the same. Don’t think I’m turning Christian any time soon…The words smothered him and spat at him, strangled him and mocked him. When he finally fell asleep he was sure of one thing. Fear was wa
tching him, and it would be there waiting for him in the morning. Because he had lied to the girl at the club. The truth was something the world didn’t know about Brandon Paul.
He had given his life to Jesus a long time ago.
KEITH PULLED INTO DAYNE’S LONG DRIVEWAY and parked his car near the front door. He hadn’t been to Dayne and Katy’s lake house, and though the place was bound to be nice any time of the year, here in June it was breathtaking. The views stretched out across the entire lake and the foliage around the house looked like something from a movie.
Appropriate, Keith told himself as he walked up to the door. He stopped before he knocked and he looked out, savoring the view. God…I’ve been looking forward to this meeting for a year. Please be with us today…let us see whether Brandon’s a right fit for this film. He paused, his heart and mind torn. As much as he wanted to be here, he agreed with Lisa. Something was wrong with Andi, and if he had his way, he’d be driving to Indianapolis, finding her and bringing her home where she belonged. Since she’d been gone, she’d sent only a few text messages. Every time they tried to call her, she didn’t answer her phone. Both he and Lisa were frustrated at themselves for not getting more information about the place where she was staying. They didn’t know the girls’ names or where they lived in the city.
In her last text, Andi had said she was fine, and she’d be home Tuesday. Sorry I haven’t been around when you call. God’s with me here. Please don’t worry. And that was that. Lisa texted back right away, telling Andi they were going to call, asking her to answer her phone this time. But Andi neither replied with another text nor picked up her phone. Andi wasn’t missing; she wasn’t in danger—at least as far as they could tell. They could drive around Indianapolis all day and night and still not be any closer to finding her.