All That Really Matters, Nicole Deese [best detective novels of all time .TXT] 📗

swallowed and released a deep breath. “It had been so long since I’d let myself truly connect to anybody as just me, Molly. And not as the persona of me.”

Silas touched my cheek, sliding his fingers to my jawline and the short hair that still didn’t feel like mine. “There is nothing just about you.”

“Do you think I’m supposed to shut down my channels?”

The sharp change in subject reflected on his expression. “What?”

“Makeup Matters with Molly. I’ve been thinking about it all day—longer than that, if I’m honest.” I chuckled, remembering my revelation in the sauna at Sophia Richards’s house. “Since the Tubee incident.”

Silas studied me, saying nothing for the longest time. Although he may have found my videos favorable, he’d made his overall feelings about the danger of social media clear from the start. And in many ways, I couldn’t blame him. I was becoming less of a fan myself every day.

“Why did you say supposed to shut your channels down?” he asked, emphasizing the same words I’d used.

“Because . . .” Though it wasn’t one of my usual traits to shrug, I found myself doing it now, shrugging my shoulders like Insecure Teenage Molly. “I feel like today was a redo of sorts. A life redo. I want to be different, Silas. I want to prove that I can be different.”

“To whom?”

“To . . .” I sighed. I wasn’t supposed to be trying to prove myself anymore, right? Was that what he was getting at? That trying to prove myself was the exact mentality that had led me to a self-focused destination I no longer wished to call home: my little island of one. “To God?”

He hiked an eyebrow. “Do you feel like God is asking you to give up your platform? Your influence?”

“I don’t know. . . .” My voice trailed off into an uncomfortable silence.

“Because if you gave everything up, He might, what? Love you more? Forgive you more? Accept you more?” I didn’t miss the way Silas tried to catch my eye. But I didn’t want to be caught. All of that was true. “If that’s your goal, you’ll never meet it. There’s nothing you can sacrifice that’s worthy of what God gives us freely.”

“Now you sound like my brother,” I said.

“Then he’s even smarter than I thought.”

I punched him in the arm. “Seriously, though, wouldn’t the bravest thing I could do be to start my life over? With some kind of worthy nonprofit cause? Like . . . ” I thought for a second. “Like Bible translation in a tiny village overseas?”

He laughed at that. “Bible translation? Is that a secret passion of yours?”

Twisting my mouth to the side, I shook my head. “No. But it would totally be a Catherine cause.” I tipped my head back, staring up at the ceiling fan in his office.

“Who and what is a Catherine cause? Is this the same Catherine reference you brought up in a dark parking lot at the beginning of summer?”

“Yes. Same one.” I sighed. “Catherine is the imaginary girlfriend I made up for you—a justice-seeking lobbyist for the vulnerable and disadvantaged. But I’m sure she probably smuggles Bibles into communist countries as a side hustle, too.”

After several beats of silence, Silas said, “You are without a doubt the strangest woman I’ve ever known.”

“I believe it.” I watched the ceiling fan go round and round. “All I’m saying is that my old routine can’t be my long-term goal anymore—I mean, I won’t make any drastic changes until after that scholarship is deposited and we get through The Event without issue, but after that, I don’t know. It just feels so shallow. Like why would eye creams and hair diffusers matter to God? Why does any of it matter at all?”

Silas was quiet for so long it caused me to lift my head. Not surprisingly, he was staring right at me. “It matters because you matter to Him. Molly, your enjoyment of makeup and fashion and every shade of sparkle was not some accident. You don’t honor God with your life by changing your personality and tossing out everything that is unique about who you are. You honor Him by offering those very gifts back to Him.” He tucked my crazy hair behind my ear. “What if God wants to work through the platforms you already have? Through the followers you already have influence with?”

Could God really have been part of Makeup Matters all along? “But how?” Yet even as I asked it, I could feel Silas’s gaze rove over my self-cut hair.

I shook my head. “Oh no. Don’t even think of it. I couldn’t go on camera like this.”

“Why not?”

“This . . .” I grabbed at the ends of my chopped mane. “Nobody would even believe it was me. Plus, what would I even say?”

“The truth. You’d say the truth.”

“Silas.” I closed my eyes, seeing Wren’s face behind my eyelids, her sweet voice describing the kind of vulnerability she believed I possessed. The kind of bravery that would go on a livestream video without any of the pretty armor I usually hid behind. “It feels so much riskier to just . . . be myself. Especially on camera in front of thousands of people.”

“I’m sure it does.” I felt the warmth of his fingertips graze my cheek. “But I think you’ll be surprised at how your viewers might respond to a heartfelt post from a woman they admire. I’m pretty partial to her myself.”

Allowing the idea to take root, I captured his hand against my cheek and refused its release. “Then you do it, too.”

He peered at me quizzically.

“I’ll do a livestream if you call your brother’s mentor. Two hard things for the price of one.”

Our standoff lasted all of ten seconds before Silas said, “I have a stipulation to add.”

“Shoot.”

“Do the livestream from here.”

“From Fir Crest Manor?” I nearly choked on the words.

“Yes. I’ll even volunteer to be your cameraman.”

I tilted my head as irony smacked me square in the chest. “But doesn’t that break like every social media rule you have?”

“Some rules are worth amending.” He stood,