Finding Us (Christian Interracial Romance)

From Screen to Sanctuary

Cecilia

I wake up to the soft morning light hitting my face and I sit up in the soft comfort of my bed, stretching my arms out as I yawn softly. The smell of coffee drifts through my apartment, but I'm not drinking any yet. I gather a soft blue buttoned up shirt along with a pair of black jeans and a pair of flats and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth, wash my face, and change, twisting my silk pressed tresses in a sleek bun, listening for any movement from the living room. 

Jeremy spent a night here. Not in a reckless way. I made him sleep in the living room while I slept in my room. We've been careful. Intentional. But there's definitely a shift happening in him—and I see it more each day. 

When he finally walks out of the bathroom, I spot a fresh gauze wrapped around his left wrist. 

"Still healing?" I ask

He nods, rotating it slightly. "Yeah. It stings, but it's manageable."

I glance at it, remembering the image he used to have there—a Baphomet. The goat headed demon symbol. I never said much when I first saw it, but I told him to wear a long sleeve shirt or a hoodie to cover it up and I always prayed with Mr. and Mrs. Miller. 

Now, it's two days and it's gone. He's just starting his healing process. 

"You're really doing this," I reply gently. 

He looks at me, half-smiling. "Trying is more of a correct word. I should've done it a long time ago. That thing was like a brand." 

"You're not who you used to be." 

"Sometimes, it feels like I still am." 

I walk over and lay my hand over his heart. "But the fact that it feels wrong now? That's how you know something's changed." 

He exhales, leaning his forehead against mine. "Thanks for not pushing me."

"I never had to. You started walking this way all on your own." 

He steps back, his eyes drifting to the mirror. "You really think I should go to church today? I'm still figuring everything out." 

I smirk genuinely. "Church is full of people figuring things out. You'll fit right in." 

My eyes glance at Jeremy as he is in a button-up shirt and slacks, sensing he feels like he's wearing a costume instead of wearing something modest, comfortable, and respectful at a church. 

Jeremy's going through his name being dragged by that walking diablo en la tierra— the devil on Earth himself, the name that reminded me of the years he put me through hell. Damien O'Brien, the show runner of The Murder Diaries and Voices In the Skyline, has dragged Jeremy's name through every interview while Damien is promoting his Netflix limited series about a serial killer for three months lately. Said Jeremy is becoming "too soft" now. Said he's "forgetting who made" him. 

It's giving Jeremy a hard time, but he didn't forget and neither did I. 

For the past three months, I've noticed Jeremy had an epiphany he couldn't keep selling darkness. 

 Jeremy looks at his bandage on his wrist again. The tattoo that stayed on his skin that should've been gone a long time. 

"Are you ready?" I ask, grabbing my purse, keys, and phone.

Jeremy nods. "Let's do it."

Before leaving the apartment, I double lock the door and both Jeremy and I slid into my car. I start the car and the engine revs just as the radio is set on 102.7 KIIS-FM. The radio just finished airing "Calm Down" by Rema featuring Selena Gomez. I peer briefly over my shoulder at Jeremy, who is shifting in the front passenger seat while he is staring out the window.