by Nancee Cain
Embarrassed, I squat next to my dog, making a great pretense of straightening his collar and leash. “It’s just…” Come up with a reasonable lie, stupid. “I have to get home to my mom’s. If he leaves me, I don’t know how I’d get there.”
Rafe grunts and sits down next to me. “Honey, you realize this can’t go anywhere, right? He’s a priest. No hokey-pokey, horizontal slides, bumping the uglies, or mattress jigs allowed.”
After my initial shock, I giggle and wipe away the tears on my cheeks. “That has to be the longest list of sexual euphemisms I’ve ever heard.” And they sounded funny and awkward coming from him. They were much more suited to Remi. As a matter of fact, Remi seems more like the cowboy type and Rafe the priest.
“Yeah, well, just trying to get my point across.” He pulls at some grass as we sit for a moment in an awkward silence. “So tell me, how did you and Judas Priest meet?”
I shrug and glance at him from under my lowered lashes, standing to end the conversation. “He’s a priest, I’m a lapsed Catholic. That makes us a match made in heaven.”
He struggles to his feet, and I look away from the sympathy in his dark eyes.
“I’m going to lie down. I don’t feel well,” I mumble, but he catches my hand before I can leave.
“Look, I’m going to tell you something and you can take it for what it’s worth.” He squints up at the clear sky and sighs before dropping his gaze back to mine. “He cares about you. He cares more than he should, if you know what I mean. And he’s struggling at the moment. You know in your heart it can’t develop, not the way you two want it to. It just can’t.”
I swallow the bitter pill he’s giving me, even though I want to spit it out and live in my delusional world. “I know.” I sigh and look at the ground. “I’m not going to stand in the way of his calling. I just…” My voice falters. My mouth had once again been about to activate without my brain in full gear, but I’ve managed to stop it in time.
“Just what, Evie?”
I shake my head.
“Tell me.”
“I just wanted to pretend for a few days I was normal and he wasn’t a priest.” I blurt. “I know it’s wrong. I know it will supposedly damn my soul for all eternity, but I don’t believe in that shit.”
Rafe releases a long, deep breath before speaking. “Look at me.”
I glare at him in response.
“Evie, the problem is he does believe that shit.”
My dreams crumble like a cookie in a child’s hand. He’s right and I know it. I swallow my disappointment, knowing what I have to do. I have to let him go. Together we walk back toward the room we’ve rented for the night.
The sun sits low in the sky, but being this far west, it isn’t close to sunset. However, a different type of darkness seeps into my brain, the shadowy feeling of hopelessness. My depression, which has been blowing like a fresh laundered sheet on a clothesline, settles like an old comfortable terrycloth robe around me. I’m once again in the skin I know and wear well. Perversely, it’s like the feeling of coming home after a tiring trip. That brief moment of happiness and contentment wasn’t me. My grandmother once said I suffered from melancholia, a nicer sounding word than the clinical term depression. Like rain slipping down a window, I return to my melancholic comfort zone.
Rafe sits on the curb outside the room with Goner while I shower, giving me time to think. After I’m done, I call my mother to check on her but hang up before she can start with the twenty questions. I just don’t have the energy to talk. Drawing the curtains, I turn out the lights and crawl into bed, pulling the covers up over my head like a shroud, emotionally dead. Closing my eyes, I try my damnedest to block out the memory of Remi’s kiss on the Ferris wheel and the dream of him making love to me.
I now understand what hell is. It isn’t a physical place with flames and a red devil. It doesn’t matter if you’re good or bad, if you believe or don’t believe. It’s the total and utter isolation you feel when you have to let go of the other part of your soul, the one you love.
The bed dips under his weight and the smell of Christmas makes me smile. I’ve just had a lovely dream of playing in the snow with Remi.
“C’mon, Evie, wake up. We’re hungry, let’s go find something to eat.”
“I wish I could see snow,” I whisper, keeping my eyes closed.
I hear the sound of ice clinking in a glass. “It’s the middle of summer, Crazy Girl. This as close as we can get.” He rudely yanks the cover off, sprinkling me with ice water. So much for dreams.
“Stop, please stop, I have to pee,” I whine between giggles. He looks devastatingly handsome in his jeans, and 50 Shades of Grace T-shirt. His damp hair waves and falls on his forehead, adding to his mischievous, boyish look. The room is dim, lit only by the light over the vanity.
Remi grins as he crunches an ice cube. “Pee on the bed and you’ll be sleeping on wet sheets.”
I peer up at him and can’t resist the joke. “Why do girls prefer dildos to men?”
“Not possible. No way a girl would prefer motorized rubber over a real man. It’s a sin to lie, Evangeline.” His stern admonishment is lost in his wide grin.
“Dildos don’t make girls sleep on the wet side of the bed.”
He laughs that full, gusty laugh that I’m going to miss. “Masturbation constitutes a grave moral sin. I will pray for your soul.” A bark outside the door has him bolting to sit on the other bed, and I pull the covers up to my chin just before Rafe walks in with Goner.
“She still isn’t up? Let’s go, I’m starving.”
I yawn and stretch. “What time is it?”
Remi answers, “After seven and he’s right, we’re hungry. You slept so hard we were getting worried. Are you okay?” He sits with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped before him, staring intently at me. He’s back to being serious, and I long for the carefree man that teases me. For a brief second fire flares in his eyes, but he blinks and it’s gone.
Casting a nervous glance toward Rafe, I nod. “I’m just exhausted. You two can go get something to eat, I’m not really hungry. If Remi puts his clerics back on, you can get comped a meal.”
Rafe raises one eyebrow and shakes his head. “Using the collar for gains? Good grief.”
“People are just nice. I don’t ask for a free meal,” Remi protests.
I roll on my stomach and dive under the covers, closing my eyes. “Bring Goner some scraps.” Being forced to be pleasant over a meal doesn’t fit in with my current plans for a pity party. Besides, I don’t think food would get past the lump lodged in my throat.
Remi stands. “Get your ass out of bed and get dressed, Evangeline. You’re not going to wallow in your self-pity. Grab life by the balls, remember? We’ll be outside waiting for you.” He glances at his watch. “You have fifteen minutes to get ready. Be sure to brush your teeth and comb your hair like a good little girl. Don’t make us take you out looking like a hot mess and in your pajamas.” His condescending manner kind of pisses me off. I’m not a three-year-old who needs to be told what to do.
“We can just leave her here with Goner if she doesn’t want to spend time with us.” Rafe gives Remi a pointed look that makes me suspicious. What is it between these two? It seems to be more than just testosterone one-upmanship. It’s almost like they know each other, like they’re brothers. Maybe it’s just a guy thing.
“Please come with us,” Remi asks softly, ignoring Rafe’s annoyed sigh.
I can’t refuse him. Besides, I guess it would be better to spend a little time with Remi—even in the company of Rafe—than no time at all.
“Fine. Get out.” I crawl out of bed, running smack into Remi as he stands to leave. The air snaps and sizzles between us, and my skin burns where he touches me in an effort to steady me. I stare at his Adam’s apple moving as he swallows. A multitude of emotions wash over me. I want to melt into his arms, collapse at his feet, and throw him back on the bed all at the same time, none of them a vi
able option.
Rafe clears his throat, and Remi steps around me, shoving the cowboy out of the room. It doesn’t seem to bother him that the guy walks with crutches and could get hurt. It isn’t until the door closes that I’m able to breathe normally. I have fifteen minutes to get my shit together. I know in my gut I’m at a pivotal point in my life. I either wallow in self-pity the rest of my life, cycling in and out of the mental health system, or I listen to the man that has shown me that life can be fun. The choice is mine. I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, making the decision to grab life by the balls, even if that means doing it alone.
“She’s slipping away. I’m losing her. When I first met her, she was suicidal. My job was to save her, but now…” My chest hurts like someone has ripped open my chest and pulverized my heart with a hammer. If I were human, I’d think I was having a heart attack.
Raphael watches me pace. “At the risk of sounding redundant, she was never yours. What did you expect, Remiel? You’re skimming this side of shady even in human terms. I mean whatever the heck you two have done may have been consensual when it happened, but you warped her memory into dreams. Now, I realize you did what you had to do to rectify the situation. But man, you’ve got to pull yourself together. If you don’t, you run the risk of either pushing her over the edge, or she’ll figure out what you are. And you know The Boss won’t be down with either one of those options. So what are you going to do?”
“I’m not asking you. And if I knew, do you really think I’d tell you?” I light a cigarette, puffing on it like a steam engine on a one-way track to hell.
“Remiel, I’m not the enemy. I’m here to help. You know the end result. You have to let her go.”
“Help? Or spy?”
The concern and compassion in Raphael’s eyes makes me uncomfortable. “Call Him. He’ll know how to get you out of this mess. You’re in too deep.”
Refusing to admit I’m wrong and he’s right, I lash out. “Do you honestly think I haven’t tried to reach Him? He doesn’t answer. I guess He’s letting me flounder to teach me a lesson. Well, guess what? I don’t need anyone’s help. I can do this on my own without any interference from you or Him.”
Rafe shakes his head. “When will you ever learn? How can you not see what lies ahead? Nothing good can come from your blatant disobedience. Just admit you’re in over your head. You have to learn it’s okay to rely on others before it’s too late.”
I ignore his cryptic doomsday prophecies. I’m lost, but like all respectable males, I refuse to stop and ask for directions. Sometimes the scenic route is more enjoyable. Besides, as long as I save her, does it matter if I veer off the chosen path?
Chapter Fourteen
I PULL ON THE ONLY DRESS I packed, a wraparound red number that used to hug my curves. I’m one of those Italian girls blessed with big boobs, a little waist, and round hips. Yanking my hair into a topknot with a few loose tendrils, I add a touch of makeup. I’m ready in fourteen minutes, a record time for me.
“Wow. You look great, sunshine. Doesn’t she look pretty, Padre?”
If Remi wasn’t a priest, I’m pretty sure he’d flip Rafe off judging by the dark look he shoots him. “Let’s go,” he barks, opening the car door for me. Silence prevails on the short drive until Rafe starts singing along with the radio, an old George Michael’s song about having faith.
“Very funny,” Remi mutters.
“What?” Rafe asks, leaning forward from the backseat, sounding surprised, but as always, looking like he knows a secret. He seems to have an uncanny ability to push every button Remi has. It’s the one thing the cowboy and I have in common.
In a matter of minutes, we arrive at dilapidated cement block building. Neon beer signs and the sound of loud music from an old-fashioned jukebox make it feel like we’ve stepped back in time. There isn’t a man in the place that isn’t wearing a cowboy hat or ball cap, except Remi. Good thing he didn’t wear his clericals—he’d stick out like a sore thumb. The place is nothing more than a dive bar with a kitchen. The only saving grace I can see is it isn’t fast food. I don’t think I could stomach another cheap burger.
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” A glance around the place makes me glad I have two men with me. Several drunken cowboys look me over like a prize cow at the stock show. Two weeks ago, this was just my kind of place. Now, not so much.
“The people at the laundromat said it was the best place in town to eat,” Remi replies defensively.
“And I’m sure folks at a laundromat know where all the fine places to dine are,” Rafe responds with a wink at me.
“Fucker,” Remi mutters under his breath.
“Father,” Rafe replies with a wicked grin.
I bite my lip to keep from grinning.
We find a booth and I slide in, followed by Remi who practically trips Rafe to keep him from sitting next to me. Rafe sits across from me, which is almost worse, because he keeps staring at me. I decide two can play this game, and I narrow my eyes giving him my best eat-shit-and-die glare, but Rafe just smirks, never blinking. Frustrated, I drop my gaze to the names carved into the wooden table and run my finger over them repeatedly. My left knee bounces with nervousness until a warm hand stills it. A kinetic jolt of sexual energy works its way straight up my leg. I hold my breath, wishing Remi’s fingers would follow and delve underneath my panties.
The waitress touches up her lipstick before bringing us our menus and water. Her gaze flickers at Rafe, but lingers on Remi. An unreasonable urge to slap her and tell her to back the fuck off overcomes me. Dammit, now I wish he’d worn his clerical shirt and collar. At least women aren’t as blatant in their attention when he appears to be off limits. My conscience reminds me he’s off limits for me, too.
Remi removes his hand, leaving me feeling empty. I look up to find Rafe staring at me with his lips pursed. One questioning eyebrow rises, and he shakes his head, like a parent trying to correct a child with just a look. I pretend to study the menu, doing my damnedest to keep my shit together.
Remi leans back in the booth and stretches his arms across the back. His thumb lazily strokes my back in a reassuring manner. He knows me so well. I draw strength from the comfort he offers and try to relax. This is our last night together; I don’t want to spend it falling apart. I’ll do that when he leaves.
Not having much of an appetite, I order a small side salad, but I doubt I’ll be able to swallow a bite past the lump lodged in my throat. Rafe orders a burger, and since he’s offered to pick up the tab, Remi seems to take great delight in ordering a huge steak, the most expensive thing on the menu. With a devastating smile, Remi thanks the waitress as she bounces off to turn in the order.
Remi nudges my shoulder and leans in, whispering in my ear, “Hey, you okay? You need to eat, especially since we’re not paying for it. I’ll share part of my steak and potato with you, if you want.” His warm breath caresses my neck. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, suppressing the urge to beg him to hold me and never let go. I yearn to feel his lips on my skin. Instead, I shrug, staring blankly at the stupid carved names in the table.
“I’m fine.” I’m anything but fine. I manage a small smile, faking it until I make it.
A jukebox plays in a dark corner and a few couples are slow dancing, wrapped up in each other. The sound of clacking pool balls filters in from another room. Laugher and conversations drift from other tables muffled by the music. It’s all very normal, in direct contrast to what’s playing out at this table.
The tension between the two men hangs heavier than the cigarette smoke from the back room layered by my dark depression. I’m almost relieved when a bleached blonde approaches the table with a sultry sway of her hips, and a smile of conquest on her bubblegum pink lips. If her boobs are real, I’m sane. She leans across the table showing off her assets to her best advantage, her attention focused on Rafe.
“Hiya, cowboy,” she purrs, drumming her pink, fake nails on the table. She places her
fruity mixed drink with the cheesy umbrella down as if she intends to stay.
“Ma’am.” Rafe tips his hat toward her, and only the slight flare of his nostrils betrays his apprehension as the woman slides into the booth next to him. She scrunches in so close they look like they could be attached at the hip like Siamese twins.
Remi’s grin grows wider. The tension he’s been holding in all night almost magically disappears and his shoulders relax. In direct correlation, Rafe drums the table with his thumbs, sitting ramrod straight as he casts nervous glances toward the woman next to him. I feel like I’ve started watching a movie in the middle. The characters are familiar, but I’m clueless to the plot.
Remi whispers in my ear, “Hey, let’s go dance and give them a chance to get acquainted.”
Rafe’s wide eyes and strained smile look desperate as he gapes at the blonde bombshell cornering him in the booth. I cast Rafe an evil smirk and eagerly follow Remi, wanting to feel his arms around me.
Drawing me to the darkest corner of the building, I sink into his arms and it’s like coming home. This is where I belong. I feel safe and calm, like he’s my anchor in my sea of turmoil. He rests one hand on my hip and the other wraps around my shoulders almost in a protective manner. Wanting to be even closer, I rest my head on his chest and listen to the comforting, steady sound of his heartbeat. I will forever associate the smell of Christmas with sin and love. It’s an intoxicating combination, and I long to drink him in and get drunk.
Ironically, the jukebox plays a sad, slow song about lost love, and the words seemed to echo my feelings. I’ve promised him to grab life by the balls. Surely that means asking for what I want most…
I stand on my tiptoes as we sway to the music and whisper in his ear, “Don’t—” The words never leave my lips. I close my eyes, biting my tongue. It would be wrong to ask him not to leave me. I can’t place more of a burden on him than he already carries. It’s better to live with a broken heart than none at all. For once in my life, I’m going to take the high road.