Home of a Book Lover: Blog Tour [Excerpt]: More Than We Can Tell by Brigid Kemmerer

-- BLURB --

Rev Fletcher is battling the demons of his past. But with loving adoptive parents by his side, he’s managed to keep them at bay...until he gets a letter from his abusive father and the trauma of his childhood comes hurtling back.

Emma Blue spends her time perfecting the computer game she built from scratch, rather than facing her parents’ crumbling marriage. She can solve any problem with the right code, but when an online troll’s harassment escalates, she’s truly afraid.

When Rev and Emma meet, they both long to lift the burden of their secrets and bond instantly over their shared turmoil. But when their situations turn dangerous, their trust in each other will be tested in ways they never expected. This must-read story will once again have readers falling for Brigid Kemmerer’s emotional storytelling.

-- EXCERPT --

“Rev,” Declan says. “If you want to believe in God, fine. If you want to debate theology, fine. If you want to believe a higher power offered you some protection, fine. Btu every mark on your body—your father did that. Your father. You survived what he did to you. You got yourself out of there. And you walked yourself over here tonight. You, Rev. You did that.”

I can’t breathe. He’s never said these things to me. I feel as if I’m made of stone, and Declan has struck me with a chisel, sending cracks along my surface.

And suddenly, I know I can’t tell him about the letter. About the e-mails. Not tonight. He won’t understand why I sent the first e-mail. He won’t understand why I let it go on.

“Are you okay?” he says.

My breath shakes. “Do you know the story of the Prodigal Son?”

“Oh my god. Rev—”

“Do you?”

He sighs. “I don’t remember the whole thing.

So I tell him the story.

He listens. When I’m done, he says, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Which one am I?” I finally ask.

“Rev—”

I didn’t stay with my father. So I’m obviously not the devoted son.”

“Dude.”

“But is that saying that if I went back to him, he’d welcome me with open arms? Am I supposed to be that son?”

“Are you listening to yourself right now?”

“No.” I study him. My voice is a breath away from breaking. “Help me, Dec. Which one am I?”

His eyes are dark and serious. “Neither. Is that what you need me to say? You’re neither son.”

“But—”

“You’re not selfish. You wouldn’t be the son who asks for his money and leaves. And you’re not spiteful. You don’t resent anyone, even the one person you should.”

I flinch again. “Don’t you understand? I have to be one or the other.”

“No, you don’t! You moron, there are three people in the story.”

“You’re neither son, Rev. If you’re anyone, you’re the man who watches his kids act like total dicks, only to stand there with open arms and forgive them.”

I’m speechless. I might be gaping at him. As many times as I’ve read that parable, I’ve never considered a third perspective. But of course it’s right there. It’s so clear.

Declan pulls his pillow away from the wall, fluffs it up, and lies back down. He yawns. “Now. Tell me about the girl.”