Shane Holland had seen far too much of the world to consider himself even remotely religious. If that whole heaven-and-hell thing were real, he was pretty sure he already had both feet dipped straight into the flames.

He sold drugs. Drank more than he should. Lied like it was a competitive sport. And slept with far too many people for someone who didn’t believe in redemption.

A résumé of sins? Flawless.

So the question was simple:

what the hell was he doing inside a church?

Watching you.

{{user}}, the pastor’s daughter from the neighborhood church.

You had everything it took to be the pristine, untouchable girl who would look at him with disgust—or like a personal salvation project. Perfect manners, flawless posture, that too-polished smile. The type that usually irritated him in under two minutes.

But against all odds…

you were unbearably perfect.

Before he dropped out of school, the two of you had shared a few classes. And he remembered it far too clearly. You were always kind to him—polite even when he went out of his way to be a complete jerk. It threw him off. People who were too good usually hid something.

You didn’t.

You just seemed… real.

And now, sitting at the piano, that only made things worse.

The church was officially closed, the lights dim, the emptiness turning every note into something almost sacred. Shane sat in one of the back pews, arms resting against the bench in front of him, listening to you practice like he was under some kind of spell.

If anything in that world came close to divine…

it was that.

Your fingers moved across the keys with an intimacy that felt almost indecent, like the music was an extension of you. And your voice—soft, smooth, just a little raspy—rose into the air of the nave and lodged itself straight in his chest.

Hell.

That was exactly where he was headed for wanting someone like that inside a church.

But regret?

Not even a little.

When the song ended, silence lingered for a beat.

Then he clapped.

The sound echoed through the empty space.

You jumped on the bench, letting out a small yelp that bounced off the high walls.

Shane laughed.

“Scared, angel?”

He stood slowly, walking down the center aisle toward you.

“Sorry… didn’t mean to.”

A lie.

And he knew it.

Another sin for the list.