Val Westover Burns Novels & Stories

Arthur found the letter in her journal and cried. The church became more than just a ministry. It became a movement—spanning cities, and then nations. Their message was clear: the altar we burn is not always of wood or stone. Sometimes it’s tradition. Sometimes it’s silence. And sometimes, it’s the lies we told ourselves just to survive. Isabella published her story under the same name as the church—The Altar We Burned. It became a bestseller, then a documentary, and finally, a foundation for victims of spiritual abuse worldwide.

Her face was blank. “You want me to leave you alone?” I asked. She shook her head no. “Want me to sit with you?” She shrugged, still not looking at me. I sat down and said nothing more. And then by afternoon, I had to leave her to go check on West. The hospital was quiet when I got there. The hallway lights flickered at intervals. West had been kept under close supervision ever since they brought him in—burns on his forearm, fractured wrist, mild head injury. They thought he was trying to set fire to the second building. They still didn’t know he was the reason those kids made it out. Only Ella and Madam Flora knew this.

"Engagement confirmed: Lucas Dan and Vera Ashford to wed. Sources close to the couple cite a long-standing bond as foundation for union. Hale family declines to comment." "Are you serious," I said. It wasn't a question. Amina's brow furrowed. "What are you going to do about it?" I set the phone face down on the bed and sat with it for a moment. The whispers already roaring around me were not something I could fully control even if I tried. Chasing them down one by one would only give them legs. "I'd let it die down," I said, after a stretch of thought. "Lucas started this wildfire with his speech and that display at the assembly. It's only natural that it spreads for a while."

But instead, he said, "Just burn it. What's the big deal? Frank can reapply again next year. I don't want my sweetheart to be upset. "We hardly ever all get together like this, and Shannon's having a good time now. What's wrong with burning one admission letter?"

"You sick son of—" "Thirty seconds left," Viper interrupted. "Decide. Walk away, or watch her become a vegetable." "Colt, please." Tears streamed down my face. "Just go. I am not worth this. I am not worth all these people dying." "You are worth everything," he said quietly. "You were always worth everything." The radio on Viper's hip crackled. "Sir, we have a problem. There are fires at the south fence. Multiple locations. Someone is cutting through."

he pointed out. "No, I'm hot, and..." I trailed off, hazily remembering the many times I had turned down men because I wanted to stay faithful to Shane, only for him to betray me like he did. What if the only way to get over his actions was stooping to his level? What if I needed another man's touch to erase his memories, to replace them with a different feeling? It was obvious music and liquor had not helped, so I did the only thing I could think of at that moment. I took Alexander's left hand, held my breath, lifted it and placed it on my right boob. I exhaled at the contact, my nipples hardening instantly at the contact.

"Sounds to me like he's worth the drive. And if this is gonna end in a few months, which for the record, I don't think it is, then you better go to the best damn hotels in this country while you can." "Country?" I chuckle. "Hey, he never said they had to be in this state. Go to this one. They have a freaking hot tub on the first floor. Text it to him, now." "Okay, okay." I get my phone out, bring up his name. Me:Washington Cove "There, you happy?" "Hey, I'm trying to make sure you're happy. Way I see it, you're gonna sex him up, and then oh so casually slide in that he needs to come meet your sister."

Connor said hesitantly, "I just got an email. Someone claims to have a lead about the fire three years ago. They want us to go to the site." "Let's go." Samantha didn't hesitate. "Alright," he nodded. "I'll have the driver get the car." He took her hand, holding it tightly. Her fingers were ice-cold today. His palms were warm, yet no matter how tightly he held her, they never warmed up. The site of the fire had long since become a ruin—an abandoned building, still bearing the blackened marks of smoke on its walls. Inside, it was choked with dust.

"These flowers are for you, Grandaunt Cassie and Aunt Rosie." When I saw how happy Mom looked, I regretted not bringing her home earlier. She'd been subjected to insults and mockery with Dad, but at home, she was Grandpa and Grandma's pride and joy. We had a lively meal. Uncle Brad turned on the TV to watch the news. Just then, a breaking news report came on. "A villa belonging to the Gray family accidentally caught fire. Gray Corporation's CEO and Shaw Group's heir are burned after trying to put out the fire."