I quickly rose off the couch and headed over to him, and he motioned for me to go first down the stairs. When we got off the bus, we started down the walkway and into the church. Over the years, I’d toured many Catholic churches, always admiring the architecture and the beautiful art and stained glass windows. St. Francis was a lot smaller than the churches I’d been in before, and while it didn’t have the impressive architecture, it di have a warm, inviting feeling.

Instead of hanging back, I stuck to Barrett’s side. A small fount with holy water sat just inside the vestibule, and Barrett dipped his fingers in then crossed himself. When he caught my eye, he grinned. “Were you afraid it was going to burn me?”

I laughed. “No, it’s just interesting seeing this side of you.”

“Although it might be surprising, I am a man of faith.”

“If you tell me you were an altar boy back in the day, I might faint.”

“No, I was never an altar boy, but that doesn’t mean I was any less holy.” He gave me a pointed look. “At least as a kid.”

As we started up the aisle, Barrett knelt down on one knee and crossed himself again. At the top of the altar, the amber flames of numerous candles flickered on a tiered table. My head turned left and right as I took everything in. It was after nine, but there were still two other people kneeling on the risers with rosaries in their hands.

When we reached the table, Barrett took a fresh candle out of the box. He reached out to light it, but then he froze. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized I don’t know their names.”

“I think God will know who you mean.”

Barrett considered my words for a moment before nodding. He then lit his candle on one of the others before bowing his head. I felt it only right to do the same, and I said a few words in prayer for the families of the men who had been killed.

When I lifted my head, I turned to see Barrett had his eyes on me. His expression was unreadable, but standing there with him in the candles’ illumination, I once again felt electricity swirling in the air, just as I had that night in Houston. The growing spark between us once again grew a little stronger.

Just as soon as it came, it vanished once again, like snuffing out the flame of a candle. Barrett took a step back, breaking the spell. “I, uh, I’m going to pop in the confessional,” he stated.

“Okay, take your time. I’ll wait for you.”

He nodded before heading over to the built-in boxes that housed the confessional. After he dipped out of sight behind the dark curtains, I turned and walked back down the aisle then sat down on one of the last benches. As I gazed around the church, I tried not to overthink what was going on between us. I had to once again ask myself if I even wanted it to be anything. A fake relationship was complicated enough during the campaign, and I couldn’t imagine trying to maintain a real one, especially with someone like Barrett who didn’t do relationships. In the end, wouldn’t I just be setting myself up for heartache?

Barrett emerged from the confessional and came over to meet me. His mood seemed lighter, and I was thankful he was feeling better. “It went well?” I asked.

He grinned. “Yeah. It did.”

“Good.”

As we started out of the church, I said, “I think people would have paid good money to see what I just did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bare Callahan voluntarily going to confession.” I turned to him with a smile. “Now that is a headline.”

Barrett chuckled. “I guess me in a confessional would turn people’s perception on their ass.”

“You know, John F. Kennedy faithfully attended mass.”

“Thanks for the tidbit.”

“What I meant was just because you have a womanizing reputation, that doesn’t mean you don’t have faith.”

“Most would argue that I should probably sin a little less.”

“That’s not for them to judge. Your sin is yours alone.”

With a grin, Barrett said, “I like your way of thinking, Addison.”

“I’m glad,” I replied.

Walking to the bus, Barrett jerked a frustrated hand through his hair. “Jesus, I can’t even begin to imagine what Thorn is going through right now, not to mention having to do it thousands of miles away from his family.”

“Can your parents visit him in the hospital?”

“Dad mentioned something about it, depending on how long he had to stay.”

“Maybe you could go with them?”

From the expression on his face, I could tell Barrett hadn’t even thought of it. “That’s not a bad idea.” He gave me an earnest look. “But not for some photo op bullshit.”

“Of course not. Because he’s your big brother and you love him.”

“Exactly.” When we reached the bus, he patted his stomach. “Now how about some food?”

I laughed. “Sounds good to me.”

After getting greasy burgers and fries at a truck stop down the highway, we got back on the road. Barrett and I once again took the couch, although this time he didn’t offer any foot rubs. Instead, we propped our feet on the table in front of us and started watching some of the campaign coverage on the television. The combination of a full stomach and the swaying of the bus lulled me to sleep.

I didn’t know how long I’d been out when I awoke to the voice of our bus driver, Shane. When I popped open one of my eyes, he was staring down at us. “Sir?”