“He had a fucked-up way of showing it. But I should’ve been more aware, more protective of you. Fuck, even that asshole at the bar… I shouldn’t beat the shit out of him. Out of Reese.”
“You didn’t know. I was going to tell you when he got deployed. Then he was killed and there was no way I could add to your pain by tarnishing his memory.”
“Jesus. I can’t believe you’ve kept this to yourself for all these years.” His throat was tight, raw like he had laryngitis. Like he’d been screaming for three days straight. “I’m sorry for what Reese did to you. I’m more sorry for what I did to you. How I treated you. The things I said to you! I condemned you for something you didn’t even do. Blaming you for the wrong done you.” He slid off the couch and kneeled before her. “I was so wrong.” Too ashamed to face her, he laid his head on her lap and wrapped his arms around her legs in a display of contrition.
Kady rubbed his back until she felt some of the tension leave his body. “Looking back on it now, my reason for not telling you seems so dumb and misguided. I was wrong for not believing you could handle the truth. I didn’t want to hurt you, yet by trying to avoid making you choose I made you suffer so much worse. Made us both suffer.”
Tristan lifted his head. “I understand why you did what you did. But the fact is, Kady, I never would’ve had to choose. Not between two people I love, blood over water or fiancée over brother. After what Reese did… By hurting you, he’d already made the choice for me.”
A solitary tear rolled down her face. God, she was such a fool. Throwing her arms around his neck, she hung onto him like she was never going to let go. Everything was going to be all right now. Now that her secret was out and Tristan knew the truth finally. At long last it was over. It was all okay. There was nothing between them, anymore. Nothing to keep them apart. Nothing except that little white band around his neck and the sacred vows that went with it.
graveside
He was bothered by the realization that it’d been close to a year since he was last here. Nana, however, stopped by every other month to lay flowers. The bouquet of Tiger Lilies from her last visit was still there, the vibrant orange color now faded to a dull peach. Tristan squatted down by the flat granite headstone and brushed away the litter of dropped petals, making a mental reminder to fill the vase with more water before leaving.
Carkeek’s only cemetery was spread out over a hundred acres of what used to be an old cherry orchard. It was decided that Reese be buried close to home instead of at one of the state’s veterans cemeteries, the nearest of which was sixty miles away. Tristan was the only one in the family who’d objected. He knew his twin would’ve wanted to be laid to rest beside his fellow fallen comrades. But it was important Nan be able to visit regularly, and since Tristan was outvoted three to one, Fairhaven it was. About using Reese’s favorite and oft-spoken motto for his epitaph, the verdict was unanimous.
Go big or go home.
The wistful smile starting to creep over Tristan’s face was caught and terminated, replaced with a frown. “You always wanted to be larger than life,” he muttered. “Tried so damn hard. Look where it got you, bro.”
Richard Reese Cleary
For some reason both boys had always gone by their middle names. Somewhere in Tristan’s trunk of childhood memories there was a foggy recollection that the idea had been his brother’s. Something to do with his fear of being called Dick for short. Besides, Reese just sounded more macho.
CPL, US Marine Corps
Operation Iraqi Freedom
Purple Heart
His goal had been to make sergeant by the time he turned twenty-two. Never even got the chance.
September 23, 1989 - March 11, 2009
Only twenty years old. For all his swagger and grown-up posturing, Reese was just a damn kid. A kid who was blown to smithereens when the Hummer he was riding in rolled over an IED. Tristan shook his head. He at least went out the way he would’ve wanted. With a bang. Knowing the gung-ho Marine would appreciate the irony Tristan allowed himself a small smile. For the brother he used to know. For the boy Reese used to be.
Any feelings of warmth went up in a fireball when Tristan got to the reason he’d come to the cemetery in the first place. It wasn’t to mourn Reese’s loss. It was to curse him to hell for what he did to Kady. If only he were alive so Tristan could kill him, or at a minimum beat the bastard to a bloody pulp. He could do it now, too. Take him on. Now that he was bigger and buffer. Never as strong as Reese, he’d always admired his twin’s physical prowess and natural athleticism. In so many ways Tristan had wanted to be just like him. Now the idea made his skin crawl. Now he had to fight the urge to spit on his grave.
His fraternal twin was a goddamn rapist.
Reese Cleary had good looks, the admiration of his peers, and enough gumption and ambition to rule the world. He seemed to have it all. Everything that is except the one thing he secretly coveted. A beautiful angel with hair spun from moonbeams and a smile forged from unicorn horns. An angel who belonged to his brother.
Why not me? was a question that had gnawed away at Reese, acting as a springboard to envy and resentment and then jealousy, eventually driving him to simply reach out and take what he wanted. And what he wanted was Kadence Janacek. But if he couldn’t win her affections, he’d settle for the ultimate consolation prize. Her virginity.
“Why, Reese?” Tristan demanded of the headstone. “Why Kady?”
He wondered if there were other victims out there. Other women his brother had roofied and raped. For some reason he didn’t think so. Somehow he knew that the sexual assault was a one-off, the reprehensible act reserved specifically for her.
For God’s sake, Reese, why?
You know why, the voice deep inside his gut whispered. You know why he did it. How he could sometimes be and often was. Arrogant. Competitive. A sore loser. And not just when it came to sports. Tristan had forgotten that about him. That it wasn’t uncommon for him to lie or cheat or cause trouble.
He glared down at the marker as if he could summon Reese back from the grave. “If you were right here right now…” He was so choked with rage the words came out strangled and hoarse. “I’d kill you with my bare hands for what you did.”
Clenching and unclenching his hands seemed to alleviate some of the tension that had seized his body. What he really wanted to do was use those fists on his brother’s face. It wasn’t to be. There was no chance to confront him for putting Kady through hell. For stabbing his own flesh and blood in the back. For destroying their lives. They’d likely be celebrating their tenth anniversary if not for Reese. Probably be on their fourth kid by now. Definitely living happily ever after.
To dam back the flow of hot tears, Tristan ground the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. Besides bitter anger there was also profound sadness. Sadness for the loss of the brother he loved. The brother he’d looked up to. His best friend. His blood.
Fuck.
Even though he wanted justice for Kady, the thought of his brother’s soul burning in eternal damnation left an acrid taste in his mouth. A hole in his chest. He could condemn Reese for what he did…could blame him for the pain caused… But hate him? That was one of the things Tristan knew he’d never be able to do.
Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Forgiving him was the other.
If he weren’t already six feet under, Reese Cleary would be considered dead to him. Now he was only a heartbreaking memory.
“Guess this is it, bro,” Tristan said softly.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, raked it through his hair, and gave his brother’s grave a final parting look. This would be the last time he’d be stepping foot on the manicured grounds of Fairhaven Cemetery. With a lump in his throat and an ache in his chest, Tristan Cleary retrieved the vase of wilted flowers and headed for the water pump.
Chapter
“Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday dear Kady… Happy bi
rthday to you.”
Silvie walked out of the kitchen carrying a Costco sheet cake—chocolate with raspberry filling, Kady’s favorite—and set it down on the dining table in front of her. Hardly believing she could really be that old, Kady gazed at the thirty blazing candles with wistful wonder.
“Well go on, Mishka, make a wish,” Mr. Janacek prompted.
She closed her eyes, inhaled a breath, and right before blowing them out glanced up across the table and made eye contact with Tristan. Everybody clapped. While Kady started cutting up the cake, her mother passed around plates. It was a small gathering, family and a few old high school friends who still lived in town. And of course Father Cleary, who people were understandably surprised to see there.
But Kady artfully dodged their questions and would only say that they’d patched things up between them and were now friends. Everyone seemed to accept the story and only Alex knew the truth.
“So what did you wish for?”
She felt Tristan’s low, deep voice as much as heard it. He was standing close behind her with a plate of cake in his hand and a fork to his mouth, appearing nonchalant and very “priestly”.
Kady continued slicing, trying to put the kabosh on the smile forming on her face. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she murmured coyly without turning around.
“Mm, that’s why I asked.”
“Well maybe you’ll have to wait to find out.”
Discreetly behind her ear he whispered, “Looking forward to it,” before sauntering away.
“What was that little exchange about?” Alex was coming in for a second serving of cake.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not what your expression says. You look like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. A look, by the way, that suits you.”
Kady kept mum but her smile broke loose.
“I hear you’re almost done with your first round of chemo.” Tristan was having coffee in the living room with Mr. Janacek. “You look good.”
Jerry chuckled. “Lying doesn’t become you, father. I look like hell.”
“Please, it’s still Tristan to you.”
“As long as I’m still Jerry and not Mr. Janacek.”
“Deal.”
It’d been years since he and Jerry spoke and despite the light banter between them the tension and awkwardness were palpable. Neither could maintain eye contact for long and both seemed grateful for the distraction of cake and coffee. Jerry still wasn’t sure why the priest had been invited to celebrate his daughter’s birthday. Something felt odd about their renewed “relationship” but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Usually Kady could be easy to read but lately was keeping things close to the vest. She wasn’t hiding the fact she was happy, however. It was as if some weight had been lifted, some dark corner illuminated.
“Daddy, did you show Tristan your new table saw?” Kady sat down on the arm of her father’s recliner, a plate of cake in her lap.
“Honey, nobody’s interested in that.”
“I’d like to see it,” Tristan said. “I remember the beautiful furniture you used to make.”
“Haven’t made a piece in years. Now I just tinker with odds and ends. Lot of birdhouses.”
“I’d still like to see your workshop.”
The young man’s tone was so sincere Jerry conceded. As they headed out the back door Kady called after them, “Have fun, boys.”
Over his shoulder Tristan shot her a I know what you’re up to smirk then disappeared outside with his former almost father-in-law.
Julia came up beside her. “Where are those two going?”
“To take a tour of Daddy’s workshop.”
“Oh really?” She gave her daughter a look of pleasant surprise. “Is there something I should know about?”
Kady’s face was beaming. “Not yet,” she murmured cryptically.
“Be careful, Kadence. Everything we do has consequences. And sometimes the outcome isn’t what we expected.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. Nothing’s going on.
~oOo~
Staring into the bathroom mirror, she fingered the delicate charm dangling from the white gold chain around her neck. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured as if it were the Hope Diamond.
“Not too cheesy?” Tristan was behind her, his hands resting on Kady’s shoulders.
“What are you talking about, it’s perfect.”
He gazed at her reflection. “I wasn’t sure you’d like it.” His birthday gift to her was a small unicorn pave-set with her birthstone. If he knew the significance, he would understand her glimmer of tears.
“I love it.”
“Aquamarine. Matches the color of your eyes.”
She turned and hugged his neck, having to stand on tippy-toe to do it. “Thank you,” she said with a kiss. Her body was pressed up against him and she felt the bulge in his jeans. She cocked a brow at him.
“Sorry.” He gave her an unapologetic grin. “Can’t help it.”
“Wasn’t complaining.”
Since Kady’s big reveal, they’d been seeing each other on the down low, meeting at the rectory almost everyday, stealing moments whenever his schedule allowed. She hated sneaking around but knew they had no choice. They couldn’t risk anyone find out, least of all her parents. Alex would cover for her but all the nights “staying over” at her place was making them suspicious about something. She was sure they had no idea it was anything like this. Whatever this was.
No, it wasn’t sex. They weren’t having sex. Well, not intercourse sex. But they did do an inordinate amount of “cuddling” and she spent nights in his bed. Mornings Kady would wake up to feel a stiffie against her butt but Tristan always went into the bathroom and took care of it himself. Getting it on in the shower was the first and only time she’d seen his penis, which was almost a week ago and merely brief glimpses. With Tristan avoiding “going all the way”, it felt a lot like it used to. The difference was now there was actual sexual contact and yet he still wouldn’t do more than dry humping. Through clothing. He’d rub her pussy and get her off—like really, really off—but refused to let her reciprocate. Yeah, it was a lot like before.
She understood his reasons but didn’t agree with the logic. A priest grinding on a woman and making her come by hand was acceptable. Anything beyond that and he’d go straight to hell in a hand basket. He had called her a temptation and she supposed she was, but Kady wanted to be more than that to him. At her party this afternoon he asked her what she’d wished for when he knew that she knew that he knew the answer.
“Know what I’d like to see right now?” Tristan’s voice was low and suggestive, as it always seemed to be lately. “I’d like to see you wearing that necklace in nothing but your birthday suit.”
He said things like that a lot. Loved to talk dirty to her. Loved graphically describing all the filthy things he wanted to do with her. Hearing it aroused Kady as much as it did him. Yet he’d never follow up. The adage, all talk no action certainly applied here. But as she learned in the confession booth that fateful night, calling his bluff could yield a desirable result.
“Mm, I’d like to see that, too,” she purred, unbuttoning her jeans.
“I didn’t mean literally.” His chuckle sounded nervous.
“You sure about that?” Stepping out of her Old Navy’s, she grabbed the hem of her tee-shirt and started pulling it up.
A clammy hand stopped her. “Kady, wait. We’ve been over this. Clothes have to stay on.”
“It’s my birthday. I’m officially three decades old. I can do what I want.” With that, she shrugged off his hold, whipped off the shirt, undid her bra and got rid of her panties all before Tristan could take his next breath.
Fighting the compulsion to cover herself, Kadence stood before him in all her naked glory—a unicorn necklace and Mona Lisa smile her only accessories.
“Kady, Christ…” His brows were drawn together in a frown but his eyes were glittering with avid male interest. “What
am I going to do with you?”
Her expression turned impish. “Anything you want.”
“Fuck,” he groaned.
“You set yourself up with that one. But seriously, Father Cleary, anything.”
“Don’t do that, Kady. Don’t remind me of what I am. Especially not when all I want to do is finish what I started in this very bathroom five days ago.”
“Do it.”
A chill went up his spine. For a split second he heard shoulder-Satan’s voice until realizing it was Kady. He’d wondered lately if they might be one in the same.
“Do it,” she repeated softly. “Do what’s in your heart, not your conscience.”
Staring down at her beautiful face for what felt like a millennia, he scooped her up into his arms. His expression taut and bleak, he carried her to his bedroom like he was headed for the gas chamber after a stay of execution fail. Dead man walking.
With her arms looped around his neck, she put her head against his chest and listened to the pounding rhythm of his heart. “I seem to end up in your arms like this a lot,” she murmured.
“Don’t speak. Not unless it’s screaming my name when you come.”
He laid her on his bed and looked down at Kady, his eyes dark and alert as they soaked up every inch of her. Without removing his gaze, he slowly began removing his clothes. Once naked, he stood for a moment, allowing her to sate her curiosity and get her visual fill of him. He could feel the warm caress of her eyes as they traveled over his body and lingered on his cock. It was so hard it jutted straight out from his body, long and thick and purple with arousal, straining toward her, the head dripping pre-cum like it was salivating.
“See something you want?”
Her eyes flicked up to his, burning bright orbs in a solemn expression. She nodded her head slowly in reply as he got on the bed and stretched out beside her. Propping his head in his hand, he looked down at Kady as if he couldn’t believe she was real, let alone laying there. In a gesture of adoration he lightly brushed his knuckles over her cheeks, the words, I love you on the cusp of his tongue. His fingers trailed down her neck… over her collarbone… her chest… circling the full globes of her breasts without ever touching her nipples. Despite the indirect contact they instantly tightened, beckoning him to take one into his mouth.
FATHER: Men of the Cloth - Tristan (Forbidden Priest Romance 1) Page 20