Like her and Tristan.
Ryan Tristan Cleary… She’d known him since she was in the first grade, when he was in third. The two-year age gap was wide enough that they didn’t really start hanging out together until middle school. It was there they became besties, and by high school the pair were inseparable. Before that it was his brother, Reese, conjoined at the hip with him.
Reese Cleary… She hugged herself, and in an unconscious gesture of anxiety began rubbing her upper arms as if suddenly chilled. She’d made a mistake regarding Reese. A big one. One she was still paying for to this day. The price for preventing a rift between brothers turned out to be costlier than she ever could’ve predicted. Like a naive fool she’d convinced herself she would rather suffer Tristan’s loss than force him to choose, whether between her and his twin or her and his Lord. She loved him too much to subject him to that kind of anguish. And perhaps deep down she also feared coming out the loser if he were ever put to the test.
Stupid idiot… She sacrificed herself like Joan of Arc at the stake and not only got burned but ended up losing him as a result. Shortly after she left town, Alex informed her that Tristan had entered the seminary, thereby making himself lost to her forever. The news had been soul crushing. Yet even now she tried taking comfort in the knowledge he was doing what he was meant to. After all, he’d received his calling as a kid, long before the two of them were even together. As far as she was concerned, the Good Lord already had dibs.
Like so many other things she’d been wrong about, what she failed to understand was just because she believed he was destined for the priesthood didn’t make it a foregone conclusion. The decision to follow the Holy Spirit or to follow his heart was Tristan’s alone to make, and after his junior year of college he did just that.
After finals were over he sat her down in his dorm room and professed his love, which in itself wasn’t exactly a revelation since she was already aware how he felt about her. It was the same over-the-moon way she did about him. No, what stole the air from her lungs and caused her heart to stop was when Tristan told her he loved her more than he did the Church, and to prove the veracity of that stunning declaration followed up with a marriage proposal. Got down on one knee and everything.
Once getting over the initial shock she’d dissolved into tears, and without another moment’s hesitation readily accepted. Yes, yes, omigod, yes. It didn’t matter that they were too young or still in school, they were in love. And as everyone knows, love conquers all. Well, not always apparently. Three months later Tristan had his grandmother’s wedding ring back and she was hiding out at her Aunt Doreen’s in Muncie.
Like she said… Some things just aren’t meant to be.
After leaving Carkeek she became an anchorless, moorless boat drifting from shore to shore with no motor, no sail or rudder to steer her way. Her life was left to the whim of the ocean waves, the gravitational pull of the moon determining where she was to wash up next. She moved so frequently she ended up residing in nine states in as many years.
She’d return but rarely stayed for more than a week. Whenever she did chance a visit she’d hole up inside the house until it was time to leave again. She simply couldn’t risk running into Tristan, and in a town as small as Carkeek, that was a given. He was St. Benedict’s resident priest now, an active and respected presence in the community. Successfully avoiding him would be next to impossible. So like the coward she was, she stayed away. How could she face the man whose heart she shattered into a bazillion pieces? The answer was obvious. She couldn’t. So she didn’t.
Everything changed the night she found out her dad had cancer. Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia. It had an ominous name but turned out to be one of the curable kinds and his prognosis looked hopeful. The disclosure nevertheless demolished her. During her mom’s call she couldn’t stop crying, and at one point even started choking for breath she was sobbing so hard. But somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware that the tears she shed were for herself as much as for her father.
Preparing for an extended homecoming, the next several days were spent fulfilling a to-do list a mile long. Asking for time off from a job she suspected wouldn’t be there when she returned, scrambling to find someone willing to take in her dog (who was not only obstinate and overweight but occasionally incontinent), and purchasing an expensive last-minute airline ticket on a maxed-out credit card gave her a chronic case of heartburn. God, what she wouldn’t give to be a clueless college kid again. Living at home… her only concerns getting good grades and saving for Spring Break…
It made her wonder if returning for more than a fleeting visit might be a good thing. She missed her mom’s decadent butterscotch blondies, the smell of her dad’s Old Spice, the hideous hibiscus wallpaper in the guest bathroom and the myriad other little things that defined home for her.
On the other hand, abandoning the safe existence she’d eked out for herself two thousand miles away was a scary proposition. But then again, staying for an indefinite period of time would provide much needed relief from the bleakness that defined her life. Maybe the silver lining in all this was getting a chance at a do-over, an opportunity to atone for the past and make things right again.
Just maybe.
A week after that devastating phone call found her back in the pea-green, two-story house she grew up in, back in her old bedroom long since turned into an office-slash-guestroom. The first thing she did when she saw him was hug her dad like she hadn’t since she was a kid, with total abandon. They even whiled away an evening together playing backgammon, something they hadn’t done since… Well, in a very long while.
For the first time in a long time she felt if not entirely hopeful then at least cautiously optimistic. Things could be salvageable. They could. Like with taking out the game board, all she had to do was take the first step.
Yet glad as she was about being back in the loving bosom of her family, she feared her happy reprieve might be short-lived. During her four-hour flight and three-hour layover there’d been plenty of time for her to think. About her life, the void and numbness that defined it, how she got here and why. The airport was where she made the decision to come out of the shadows and do something she’d avoided for over a decade.
Talk to her former fiancé.
God, just the thought of it made her queasy. What would she even say to him? How would he respond? Picturing Tristan’s face the last time she saw him caused a pain in her chest so painful she thought she knew what heartbreak literally felt like. In a matter of seconds he’d gone from looking blindsided to confused to enraged to completely annihilated. For as long as she lived she hoped never to see that godforsaken expression on anyone ever again. Nor be the cause for it. But regardless of the consequences she knew she had to go through with it. This confession was past overdue. Way.
three
Was she out of her mother-loving mind? After all this time? After everything she did? Fucking nerve of the woman. She actually thought she could just waltz into his church, into his confessional and what, ask for forgiveness? Just like that?
Forgive as God forgave you.
Not fucking likely. Uh sorry, Lord. No, he was nowhere near ready for that. It was difficult enough wrapping his head around the fact she was actually sitting in the adjoining stall. For the past several days he’d been plagued by the feeling she was in town. He always seemed to know when the bitch was back. He just never figured she’d have the balls to approach him. Not here. Not like this. Not on a Saturday afternoon, his busiest time to take confession. Yet hadn’t that been her MO of late? To go dormant for a period of time only to show up when least expected and least wanted, like a herpes outbreak on a third date.
His spidey-sense had kicked in the moment he heard the next penitent clamber inside the cubicle. It wasn’t one of his regulars but neither was that person a stranger to him. When he caught a whiff of a subtle yet disturbingly familiar fragrance, he knew. Knew with every fiber of his being who was on the other side of that partiti
on.
Kadence! The girl he’d crushed on all through middle school. The best friend he’d fallen crazy in love with in high school. The woman who altered the course of his life forever before walking out of it.
Kadence Fucking Janacek. The bitch who nearly destroyed him.
He recognized her scent, orange and vanilla with a hint of some spice he’d always associated with the holidays. Cinnamon? Clove? Whatever the hell the combination it was taking him back to a time and place he didn’t want to revisit. When he was never able to get close to the girl without wanting to devour her. He was loath to admit that even now her confectionary scent was firing up his salivary glands. Not to mention that other glans.
Damn her, he didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t want to be reminded that she once meant something, everything to him. Didn’t want to think of her as someone other than the deceitful little slut who stabbed him in the back. In the fucking heart. And he sure as hell didn’t want to remember how much he loved her.
Had, he bitterly reminded himself. Past tense. As in, used to. As in, not-any-fucking-more.
“Forgive me, father…”
Every hair on his body sprang up like porcupine quills. If he didn’t know the woman next door was Kady from her scent, he knew it by the sound of her voice. Despite not hearing that soft girlish lilt in over a decade, those three words were all he needed to confirm who it was. At the moment of discovery, his heart began pounding so hard and fast he thought he was going into cardiac arrest.
This isn’t fucking possible.
Last he heard she was living in Portland. Whether that was Oregon or Maine he couldn’t say and couldn’t care less. Now here she was, confined in the same claustrophobic confessional with him, exchanging the same stale, stuffy air.
This isn’t fucking happening.
For the past eleven years she’d been sneaking into Carkeek like a thief in the night, seeing her family on the sly assuming he wasn’t aware. Oh he was aware all right. Whenever she returned for one of her infrequent clandestine visits, he always seemed to know. No matter how hard she tried to stay out of his sight… no matter how much he tried to block her from his mind… he had a sixth sense when it came to Kady.
Christ, even after she returned to wherever the hell she was living at the time he couldn’t get away from hearing news of her. Her buttinsky sister insisted on keeping him regularly apprised of her whereabouts. Of her fucking activities, for chrissake. He tried telling Alex he wasn’t interested in knowing anything about what Kady was up to. He didn’t give a shit where she was working or that she’d adopted a dog or started doing yoga. He didn’t care that she nearly sliced her finger off julienning vegetables. Didn’t care that he had no fucking clue what “julienning” even was.
“Forgive me, father,” she said again. “For I have…” She paused to gulp a lungful of air as if needing the fortifying breath to continue. “For I have…” Sinned. She seemed unable to say the word. “I have… Um, I haven’t been to confession in a really long time.”
Figures. Kady always was a sucky Catholic.
For several beats he didn’t respond, afraid that if he didn’t take a moment to harness the rage riling up inside him he was going to unleash an expletive-laced tirade on her. Which he suspected wouldn’t go over too well, seeing how he was in church. Oh yeah, and a holy father and all.
The wall separating the two halves of the confessional had a small grated window for privacy allowing the priest only a screened view of the penitent from where he sat. Thank Jesus. He didn’t want to see any more of the girl than he could help. He had to literally force his eyes from stealing glimpses of features he knew were as delicately fashioned as fine bone china. Small pert nose, rosy round cheeks, impudent little chin…
Kadence Janacek might possess the soul of a witch but there was no denying she had the face of a goddamn angel.
No, he was not going to— He refused to think about— He would not start picturing big sky-blue eyes. He was not going to remember the taste of a pink bow-shaped mouth. No damnit, he would not.
“What… are… you… doing here?” He could barely grit the words out. His voice felt raw, like he’d been gargling gravel.
“H-hello, Tristan.”
Hearing his name delivered in that airy inflection sent a tingle up the back of his neck. The same damn delicious way it always used to. The lines between his brows deepened. “It’s Father Cleary now,” he corrected through clenched teeth. “And I asked you a question.”
His tone was so menacing Kady’s body went rigid at the implication. Dear God, he’s still so angry. Still so furious after all this time. Despite the years, his wrath felt as potent and palpable as the day she left. Well what did she expect? That he would let bygones be bygones? Give her a warm hug and tell her everything was all right now? She got a sudden sinking feeling this might never be over, not for Tristan, and the grim realization was followed by a profound sense of sadness.
“I—I—” She cleared her throat, the harsh noise tearing through the quiet cocoon of the cubicle. “I’m here to make a confession.”
“This a fucking joke?”
“N-no. I need— I mean I have— I have something to—” God, why didn’t she rehearse the speech she had planned? This was so much harder than she ever imagined it. “I’m s-sorry.
“You’re s-sorry?” he jeered. “For what? What terrible thing could you have done to be s-sorry about?”
The bitter sarcasm she could understand. But when had Tristan developed a cruel streak? He knew she had a tendency to stutter when she was nervous.
“I—I—”
“Tell me!”
Not a thing, she wanted to shout back. She’d done nothing to warrant forgiveness. She didn’t need absolution. Not from God and not from him. She came here today to confess the truth and proclaim her innocence. The only thing she had to be sorry for was not doing it sooner!
“I—I—” Kady clenched her eyes. What in the world made her think she could do this? She hadn’t exchanged a single word with the man in eleven years. As tears sprang to her eyes, she sprang to her feet. “I—I shouldn’t have come.” Bailing before even getting started.
“Damn straight you shouldn’t have.”
“This was a mistake.”
“Understatement of the century.” Then with less volume yet no less venom he asked, “Fucking why? Why now?”
Shaking her head, Kady choked down the sob threatening to escape her. He’d gotten her so rattled she couldn’t think straight. She likened her brain to a wedge of Swiss Brie, soft and riddled with holes.
“I don’t know, I don’t know! I thought— I was ho-hoping— I wanted— Oh God, I just needed to—”
Before her rambling could reach a conclusion, the door to her side of the booth was suddenly flung open and the threshold filled with a towering figure sporting a scowl as black as his cassock.
“You just needed to what,” the priest snarled.
four
Kadence gasped and lurched back, clutching her heart like a little old lady confronted by a mugger. Turning a deaf ear to the voice inside her head advising her not to do it, she craned her head back to meet his scalding gaze.
Big mistake. Uh-huh. Huge.
The feral intensity in his eyes told her he was itching to take her apart limb by limb, and from the looks of him seemed physically capable of doing just that.
Like a doe ensnared in headlights, her rounded eyes locked onto his slitted ones as she oh-so-slowly lowered herself back down on the bench. With the instincts of cornered prey she forced herself to stay absolutely still. If she so much as twitched a muscle this bloodthirsty beast would pounce, be on her in less than a heartbeat, and should he feel so inclined tear her body to shreds. Of that she had little doubt.
No longer able to maintain eye contact, her gaze drifted to his mouth. To those full, sensual lips she knew so well that were now compressed into a harsh line, discouraging her to linger. So her baby blues cont
inued their journey downward, to his jutting jaw dusted with dark gold stubble, to his Adam’s apple peeking out from under his clerical collar…
Clerical collar. God, it still didn’t seem real.
“Why?” he asked softly. Too softly Kady noted with a shudder. “Enlighten me as to the reason you’re darkening my doorstep after all this time.”
His features were fierce, his expression hostile. But it wasn’t only his dark and forbidding mien that caught her off guard. It was Tristan’s sheer physical presence that was startling. Though as tall as she remembered, his body had gotten bigger to the point of being unrecognizable. His chest and shoulders in particular had increased substantially in size and mass. Where once the boy had been lean and lanky, the man was now buff and brawny.
The transformation was remarkable to say the least. And surprising considering he used to prefer staying in shape by running or playing hoops outdoors in the fresh air, not lifting weights inside a gym reeking of sweat and testosterone. But there was no question that the thirty pounds he’d put on since she last saw him was solid muscle, not fat. Even enshrouded from neck to feet like the priest was, Kady was able to discern the difference.
From a purely feminine perspective she could appreciate his newly honed physique. She could. But the lack of physical familiarity made Tristan seem a complete stranger to her. There wasn’t much she recognized of this terrifying ogre looming before her. Not one iota remained of the sweet, unassuming boy-next-door with the lazy lopsided grin and easygoing attitude she fell in love with. Evidently he’d been replaced by his evil doppelganger currently shooting daggers at her.
And yet… even with all of the above Kadence couldn’t say with one-hundred-percent certainty that it was fear alone responsible for her racing pulse.
Tristan’s heart was beating at an accelerated tempo seeing her up close like this. That face, that goddamn beautiful face after all these years still had the power to beguile him. The realization rankled. It fucking pissed him off. He didn’t want to be affected by her. Didn’t want to acknowledge that the pretty girl had turned into a stunning woman. Hell, even her goddamn granny-do was flattering—the pulled up hair and high bun showing off that swanlike neck and exquisite bone structure. It seemed time had only made Kady more desirable in his eyes. Age had given her beauty a feminine maturity yet left her ethereal innocence untouched.
FATHER: Men of the Cloth - Tristan (Forbidden Priest Romance 1) Page 2