I blinked at him a few times before I could calm my emotions enough to respond. In the few days I had known him, it never ceased to amaze me how it was possible that Rev could read me so easily. None of my family or even my close friends had ever had such insight.

The waitress returned with our drinks. When she set the milk down in front of Rev, I reached out and slid it over to me. I was rewarded with a genuine smile from him.

“Know whatcha want?”

When he saw I was still uncertain, Rev went ahead with his order. “I’ll have the sirloin, well done, a loaded baked potato, and a salad with Italian dressing.”

The waitress turned to me. “And you?”

“The same. Except can you make mine a sweet potato?”

“Sure can.”

“Thanks.” When I caught Rev’s eye, I said, “They’re full of potassium, which I’m sure I could use.”

He grinned. “I’m glad you’re taking this more seriously.”

Once the waitress left, I began slowly sipping on my milk. I’d never been a big fan of milk outside of a bowl of sugary cereal, but I wanted to do everything I could to help my recovery.

We sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the hum of the conversations around us. Before I met Rev I had always rushed to fill silences with small talk. But there was something about being around him that made silence somehow more tolerable . . . more comforting.

After finishing off my milk, I asked, “So what happens when we get back to Georgia?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t thought it out that far. I assumed we could play it by ear, but most of all, I thought I would let you call the shots.”

My mouth gaped open in surprise. “Me?”

He nodded. “When it comes to you, I would assume you want to be making the decisions, right?”

“Well, yes, but at the same time, I’ll be your guest . . . or the club’s guest, or however it is. I would respect that.”

Rev appeared thoughtful. “My house is directly behind the club, so I guess you could say the two go hand in hand. But you are my guest, and my brothers will respect that.”

“I just don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You won’t be. I’ll put you to work earning your keep.”

I laughed. “Oh, you will, huh?”

Rev grinned. “You said yourself that you didn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“I can cook for you.”

“You cook?” Rev asked, his voice laced with doubt.

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just you didn’t strike me as the type who could cook.”

“One of the few decent people in our household was our cook. I hung out with her a lot. You pick up things.”

“I see.” Rev rubbed his hand over his beard. “So you’re willing to cook for me.”

“Of course.”

“That’s going to upset my mama.”

“How come?”

He laughed. “She usually cooks for us.”

“Oh, well, I could help her, then.”

“Actually, I like the idea of having you in my house, cooking just for me.”

“Do you now?”

With a wink and a grin, he replied, “Yes, I do.”

“Are you flirting with me, Reverend Malloy?” I couldn’t resist teasing him, and it felt good to let myself relax a little.

“Just stating facts, Annabel Percy,” he replied.

Just then our waitress appeared with our salads. At the sight of the overflowing plate, my stomach growled loudly enough for Rev to hear, which caused him to chuckle.

Once we were alone again, I was suddenly overwhelmed when I realized I had just accused him of flirting. After everything I had gone through, how could I possibly think of teasing a man about flirting? Least of all Rev. Not only did it go against the bond of friendship we had established, but it was probably insulting to a man like him. Considering how good-looking he was, never mind what a sweet side he hid, I was sure he had a constant string of women interested in him, whether he reciprocated the attention or not. He certainly didn’t need a physical and emotional mess like me.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” I lied as I shoved a large bite of salad into my mouth.

Rev’s fork stilled on his plate. “Something was bothering you. Your whole expression just darkened, not to mention your brows are all tense.”

I swallowed hard. After taking a sip of Coke, I finally looked at him. “I was just wondering what was wrong with me for even mentioning flirting.”

“What was so wrong with that? You were just teasing me.”

I pushed some of the salad around on my plate. “I have these thoughts about the things I shouldn’t say and do after what I experienced in captivity. What I’ve been through. Things that could be misconstrued as inappropriate and wrong. Maybe they’re crazy, maybe they’re not.”

Rev chewed thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke. “Annabel, there isn’t a handbook for people like us. They don’t make the ‘Dos and Don’ts after You’ve Been a Sex Slave’ manual.”

Just the mention of the term “sex slave” caused me to shudder in revulsion. But it was the truth—it was who I was now. A former sex slave. After living through that, I certainly couldn’t be squeamish about it now. It didn’t have to define who I was, but there was no denying it was a part of me. Somehow that title was also dictating to me how I should feel and act, which in the end felt like another form of enslavement. That would be the prime reason why a man like Rev would not be flirting with the likes of me.

While I was lost in my thoughts, Rev reached across the table for my hand. He squeezed it, and that jostled me out of my musings. “You have to do what is best for you, what makes you happy. You can’t worry whether it’s what someone else in your shoes would do. You are your own person, and you hold the keys to your healing.”

Although his words made perfect sense, it was hard to believe them. “I guess you’re right.”

“Are you afraid someone is going to judge you?”

I nodded as tears filled my eyes. “Like someone would think I was sick and disgusting for even being able to have those kinds of thoughts after what happened to me.”

“I don’t think anyone would expect you to be a nun for the rest of your life simply because you were raped.”

“But to be joking with you like that so soon? Doesn’t that mean there’s something wrong with me? I should find men repulsive and the thought of sex revolting.”

Rev shook his head. “It just means the old you is slowly finding its way back to the new you. Even if the two never totally merge again, you can’t be so hard on yourself. We can’t help how we feel.”

“I guess you’re right,” I repeated.

“Take death, for example. Everyone grieves differently. Just because someone isn’t weeping uncontrollably, it doesn’t mean they loved the deceased less than someone who is crying and screaming. We all handle emotions differently. Just like you can’t tell someone the right way or wrong way to grieve, you can’t tell them how to handle life after sexual abuse.”

I tried to digest Rev’s words. They seemed so easy to accept, so logical, when they were coming from him. But in my warped frame of mind, I could say the same thing he had and still not believe it. I had hope that one day I would be okay with how I felt, but for now, I knew I had a long, long way to go.

After our waitress brought us our plates, Rev asked, “Are you okay now?” Even though I wasn’t, I nodded. “You don’t have to lie to me, Annabel.”

With a sigh, I picked up my knife and fork and began cutting into my steak. “Fine. I’m not okay. Because I know that even if I stop worrying about it right now, it’s going to come up again.”

“When it does, just push it away.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know it is because I’ve been there before myself.”

“Really?”

He fidgeted in his seat. “Yeah, I have.”

“So how did you handle it?”

Rev groaned. “Why do you have to have an example? Can’t you just trust me on this one?”

I shrugged. “I guess I just have to have concrete examples. Call it the scientist in me.”