LANCE TOSSED HIS BOSE HEADPHONES INTO A BOX OF PERSONAL belongings on the bed. It was probably full enough. He’d pack his books next and take them and the boxes to the car, then his clothes, leaving the computer and camera equipment last. He’d be out of here by evening.
He put an empty crate on the bed and began filling it with heavy theology books and commentaries. With every move he considered giving away the texts and reading them online with Bible software. It would lessen his load considerably and free up much shelf space. But there was something about holding them in his hand, flipping the pages.
One crate filled, he decided to start loading. He lifted a box and turned—and saw Kendra at the door.
“How’d you get down here?” Lance said.
“I walked.”
“But you know you shouldn’t be taking a chance—”
“You’re leaving, and you weren’t going to tell me?”
Lance set the box down. “I was going to tell you.”
“When?” Kendra asked. “With the car packed and the motor running? And why did Molly know before me?”
“She came down to get a DVD and saw me packing.”
Kendra winced, though she tried to cover it.
“Come sit down,” he said, leading her to the sectional.
She reclined slightly, looking at him. “Why are you moving?”
He sat near her, on the edge. “It’s time.”
“What does that mean, ‘it’s time’?”
“I think I was meant to be here for a short season, to help you and Trey, but . . . the season ended. And that’s a good thing. I thank God for how He’s leading Trey, and you have a great community of helpers around you.”
“So that’s what you were, part of the ‘community of helpers’? One of many interchangeable parts?”
“I don’t know what to call it, Kendra,” Lance said. “I just know I started feeling like I was in the way.” He looked at her. “To be honest, I felt like you didn’t want me here anymore. And you shouldn’t feel uncomfortable in your own house. When you want to watch a movie, you should be able to come down and watch a movie, without worrying whether I’m here.”
She stared into her lap. “Where are you going?”
“Darrin’s,” Lance said. “His roommate moved out, so it was perfect timing.”
Kendra nodded, letting several seconds pass. “For the record, it’s not true,” she said finally. “I don’t know why you thought I didn’t want you here.”
“Maybe because whenever I came into a room, you’d leave. Whenever I’d offer to help, you’d refuse it.” His eyes spoke his hurt. “It was like you couldn’t stand the sight of me.”
Kendra stared away from him now, hand swiping a tear. “I couldn’t bear the sight of you.”
He lifted his hands. “What’s the difference?”
“After you cut my hair and held me . . . then apologized and picked up the broom . . . I knew I could never be someone you . . .” She waved away the rest of her thought.
Lance moved closer. “Kendra, I’m not following. What are you saying?”
She looked upward with a sigh, fisting tears away. “I’m saying I wanted you to hug me. Okay? But it was selfish to want that because look at me.” She gestured at herself. “It was selfish to want you to care about me.”
“I do care about you.”
She tossed her eyes. “Right. Part of the community of helpers.”
“Can we be real here?” Lance asked. “Can you handle real? Or would you rather talk in circles?”
Kendra looked at him. “I’m all for being real,” she said. “Why not? It can be our parting gift to one another.”
“Here’s my real, Kendra Woods: I love you.”
“Don’t do that.” Kendra shook her head back and forth. “Don’t tell me you’re being real and then say what you think will make me feel better.”
“Kendra, stop.” His gaze penetrated. “I love you.”
“But how is that possible?” she asked. “How could you love me? Why would you love me?”
He moved closer. “I can’t explain it any more than I can explain why you have cancer,” he said. “We’ve only spent a few weeks together. You were supposed to marry someone else just last month. I’ve told myself I’m crazy.” He paused. “When we hugged in the bathroom, I apologized because you were vulnerable, and I didn’t want to take advantage. But the last thing I wanted to do was stop holding you.”
Her brown eyes met his gaze. “I told myself I was crazy, too, that it made no sense. For the same reasons.”
“What are you saying?” It was almost a whisper.
Kendra let a tear roll. “I’m saying I love you too.”
He brought her to himself, holding her, his heart beating a pattern he’d never felt.
“It’s not right though, Lance,” Kendra said. “It’s not fair for you to love me because nothing can come of this. I already saw it with Derek—”
“Wait. Whoa.” Lance rubbed her arm. “I’m not Derek. And whatever you two had, this is not that.” He looked down at her. “Can we agree on that much?”
“We can definitely agree on that much.”
“I want to ask one thing of you.”
Kendra waited, looking up at him.
“Will you let me love you?”
“Why do I feel like that’s a trick question?”
“Not at all,” Lance said. “It’s just, if we don’t establish this now, you’ll keep telling me what you think is right or fair or what kind of life I could or should be living.” He met her gaze. “Just . . . let me love you. Can you do that?”
Kendra twisted her mouth as if thinking. “I’ll try?”
“I’ll take it,” he said. “For you, that’s good.”
She shifted suddenly, eyeing him. “Does this mean you’re staying?”
“Only if you want me to.”
She sank into his embrace, answering his question. And he held her.