Free Cherished by Kim Cash Tate Page A

with Brian’s vocals.
    â€œIt’s not about you, it’s all about Him . . .”
    He’s got to be kidding .
    â€œKelli, what is it?” Cyd asked.
    â€œThat’s Brian Howard. My old boyfriend.”
    â€œWhat?” Cyd turned. “Steph, Kelli knows him. He’s her old boyfriend.”
    Stephanie moved closer. “The one Lindell and Cedric saw at church?”
    Kelli nodded.
    â€œThey didn’t say he was a rapper!”
    Cyd looked at her sister. “Maybe because he wasn’t rapping at church? I’m just guessing. How would they know if Brian didn’t tell them?”
    Applause rang out around them. Brian left the stage, and a slower song began, one Kelli recognized as one of Monica’s popular worship songs. But she couldn’t worship at the moment. She was still frozen in place, frozen inside.
    Cyd and Stephanie gazed alternately between the stage and Kelli. “Why don’t we go, Kelli?” Cyd finally asked.
    Stephanie took her hand and pulled her. “Come on. You and Cyd were so big on sister time. Let’s get a head start right now.” She glanced at the stage. “We’ll get a fresh start tomorrow, and hopefully Mr. Alien will have moved on to another planet.”
    Kelli followed them out, with the sick feeling that she and Brian were on a collision course. She’d run into him sooner or later, whether here or back in St. Louis . . . and she hadn’t the slightest idea how she would handle it.

seven
    H EATHER LAY IN BED, MIND RACING, OR MAYBE BOUNCING like a pinball, careening from one good thing to the next, or maybe skipping, as in a field of flowers with blue sky, not a cloud in sight, or maybe . . . Maybe her mind was just spinning from too much wine. She shook her head hard to clear it, but it still felt like a jumble—a good jumble. All of her thoughts right now—for once—were good.
    She moved her leg closer to Ace’s to play footsie. He’d drifted off more than a half hour ago, but she wanted him to wake up, keep her company. They’d had a few moments of conversation over dinner in the suite—prime rib, red potatoes, bottle of red wine—but it all seemed to be building to one thing, the bedroom. Now she was wide awake and wanted to really talk, get to know him better, find out more about his background, how he got in the business.
    She turned to look at the clock—11:48—and sighed. First session would start tomorrow morning at eight, and she wanted to be her best self. Better try to get to sleep, just close her eyes and—
    â€œJourney On” started playing, one of the songs recorded by Ace’s band. She lifted her head to find his phone. It was on the nightstand but stopped after several seconds, then started up again. On the third go-round, he stirred, grabbed it.
    â€œYo.” His voice was gravelly, his body unmoved. “Angela? Where are you?” He sat up suddenly. “You’re what?”
    Heather looked at him. Emergency?
    â€œListen, just close the door and put the key in the ignition. The alarm should stop.” He paused. “All right. How far away are you? . . . No, no problem.” He sighed. “I said it’s no problem.” He paused. “Love you too.”
    A ton of bricks landed on Heather’s heart. She closed her eyes so she could keep skipping through that field.
    Ace got out of bed. “Heather?”
    Would it matter if he thought she was asleep?
    â€œHeather!” He reached across the bed and shook her. “Sorry, you have to go.”
    â€œWhat?” She squinted. “What do you mean?”
    â€œMy girlfriend’s on her way. She’ll be here in less than an hour.”
    She sat up. “Your girlfriend? If she means that much, why am I here? And why is she coming at midnight, anyway?”
    Ace expelled a long sigh, running his fingers through his spikes. “We’ve been having trust