by Dakota Rebel
I didn’t believe him for a moment. In fact, I already regretted it, but it was too late to do anything about it now.
“Mom!” I called as I opened the front door.
“Callum!” Mom rushed into the hall and pulled me into a hug. When she released me, she turned to Declan and threw her arms around him as well. “You must be Declan. We’re so thrilled you could join us.”
“Thank you so much for having me, ma’am,” Declan said politely, returning her hug. “I hope it wasn’t an imposition.”
Mom cupped Declan’s face in her hands and looked him up and down, then beamed.
“Come eat something,” she insisted, taking his hand and pulling him into the house. “You’re skin and bones.”
I chuckled as I shut the door behind myself and dropped our bags on the stairs, then followed them into the kitchen. No one walked into my mother’s home without being force fed.
“Callum,” my dad said when he saw me, stretching his hand out to shake mine. “How are you doing?”
“I’m well,” I assured him. “Dad, this is Declan McNair.”
“I know who he is,” Dad said excitedly, shaking Declan’s hand as well. “Saw you on ESPN the other night. You’ve put St. Catherine’s on the map, son.”
“Thank you, sir,” Declan said, smiling at my dad’s praise. “I do what I can.”
“Did you boys have a nice trip?” Mom asked, placing sandwiches on the table. “Come on, sit. Eat. You’re both about to fall over.”
Declan gave me a curious look but sat down and accepted the food my mother foisted onto him.
“When you meet my brothers, you’ll understand,” I assured him.
Ronan, Murphy and Niall were all roughly the size of duplex housing. I’d always been the runt of the litter, or at least, that’s what they delighted in calling me. But they were all muscular, each had at least four inches height on me, and they lorded it over me every chance they got.
“I’ve set up a cot for Declan in your room,” Mom said, sliding into a seat across from me.
“Why can’t we put him in Lizzy’s room?” I argued, my words a little too quick, my voice a little too high.
Both of my parents gave me an odd look, which I guess I deserved. It was a weird thing to protest, in their eyes anyway.
Declan choked on his sandwich, his eyes dancing with mirth as he stared at me and tried to compose himself.
“We’re putting Niall in Lizzy’s room because we turned his room into a study for your father,” Mom said. “Is it a problem?”
“Of course not,” I answered quickly. “I was just surprised, that’s all. Are Murphy and Ronan staying over?”
“Yes,” Dad said.
“Ronan lives two blocks away,” I challenged, narrowing my eyes at my mother. “He’s sleeping here?”
“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Ryan,” Declan said, ending my uncomfortable argument as he stood and tried to take his plate to the sink.
Mom jumped up and took the dish from him as she waved away his thanks.
“Just call me mom, everyone does,” she insisted. “And I’ll take that dear. You’re probably tired from the long drive. Cal, why don’t you take Declan upstairs and show him the lay of the land.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said, handing her my plate and ushering Declan out of the kitchen.
“Thanks for sharing your bedroom with me this weekend, Cal” he whispered as he followed me up the stairs.
“Shut up.”
Chapter Six
~Declan~
Callum’s parents were beyond sweet and incredibly welcoming. After his mom had forced us to eat, Callum took me up to his room.
There was a cot made up for me, which was about the same height as Callum’s bed, and was positioned next to it with barely a two-inch gap between the two.
“No,” Callum growled as he dropped my bag onto my bed with a sigh.
“Look,” I told him, standing in front of him but keeping a respectable distance between us. “I’m actually just as uncomfortable with this as you are. I have no plans to disrespect you or your family by attacking you while we’re here. And, in case you’ve forgotten, I am the one having embarrassing dreams about you. So, trust me when I tell you that sleeping in a bed next to you was not on my agenda for the weekend.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his face. “You’re right. You didn’t even ask to come here.”
“Why did you ask me?”
That part I still didn’t understand. I mean, yeah, he’d said coach and Monsignor Dunn thought it was a good idea for him to help me out, but he wasn’t being forced to do so. And he could have just as easily returned to the school early to study with me.
“I wanted you here,” he admitted, shifting his gaze to the floor next to us.
My stomach flipped at his confession. It was the first, honest answer I’d ever received from him about our situation. He may not know what he was doing, but somewhere, deep down, he wanted to keep me close. I could live on that for a long time.
“Hey.” I reached up and cupped his jaw in my palm, forcing him to look at me again. “No promises. I got it.”
“No pressure?” he asked. His gaze was squinted at me as if he were in pain, little lines deepening around his eyes as he studied me.
I shrugged then put my fingers up, holding them about an inch apart.
“I guess that’s the best I could hope for,” he said, blowing out a chuckle. “Alright. I gotta move your bed.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. As much as I did want to sleep with him, I’d meant what I’d said. I didn’t want to risk wet dreams while inches from him in his childhood home with his parents down the hall.
We worked together to push the cot to the other side of the room. We’d just finished when a hulking shadow fell over the floor. I looked up to see a very tall, quite muscularly fit man standing in the doorway, grinning at Callum.
“Whatcha doin?” the man asked.
“Rearranging furniture,” Callum said with a shrug. “You just get here?”
They met in the middle of the room and clapped each other on the back. I had to assume this was one of Callum’s brothers, and I stood aside, waiting to be introduced.
“Declan, this is my brother Niall. Niall, this is Declan McNair.”
I held my hand out to shake Niall’s. His palm engulfed my hand and he seemed to be studying me.
“Yeah,” Niall said after a minute, releasing my hand. “Yeah. Okay. Nice to meet you, Declan.”
“You as well,” I agreed.
“When are Murph and Ronan coming?” Callum asked his brother.
“In the morning. After early mass.” Niall looked from me to Callum a few times, then shook his head and punched Callum in the shoulder so hard it rocked the priest back a few steps. “You’re a dumbass.”
“Fuck off,” Callum said. “Get out.”
I watched the exchange and felt my heart rate increase with panic. Did Niall know? What had Callum said to him about me?
“You boys have a nice night,” Niall said, then he walked out and closed the door behind himself.
“What was that about?” I asked, rounding on Callum. “What have you told him?”
“He’s my brother,” Callum said with a shrug. “I may have mentioned a…crisis of conscience.”
“Great.” I sank down onto the cot and buried my face in my hands. “So, your family knows how I feel about you? I should go.”
“Niall knows that I like you more than I should,” Callum admitted softly. “He won’t tell anyone.”
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked him again.
“Because I want you here,” Callum said, his tone firm and clear. “Declan…”
I looked up to see Callum ripping his clerical collar off. He tossed it on the nightstand and dropped into the chair next to the door, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his chin up on his fists. He stared at me, and I stared back as silence fell thick and heavy in the room ar
ound us.
I knew that I’d been right. Callum did have feelings for me. But as long as he was a priest, as long as he were essentially my teacher, he wouldn’t ever make a move on me.
Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit me, and I felt such shame that I had to close my eyes so Callum wouldn’t see the tears building up behind my eyes.
What had I done to him? This man, this priest, who had dedicated his life to the church. To God. I’d put him in a horrible position and the whole time I’d only thought of myself.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done. What I’ve put you through.”
I jumped at the feel of Callum’s hand on my cheek. I opened my eyes to see him kneeling in front of me, a sad look on his handsome face.
“This isn’t your fault,” Callum insisted. “It’s my fault.”
“You never encouraged me,” I reminded him, covering the hand on my cheek with my own palm and squeezing it gently.
“I didn’t push you away when I had the chance,” he argued. “Declan, I’ve done this. To both of us.”
“So where do we go from here?” I asked, forcing myself to hold his gaze as we both lowered our hands. I hated to give up his touch. It wasn’t something I’d been allowed to feel often, and it hurt to let it go.
“I don’t know.” Callum shook his head. “No promises.”
“No promises,” I agreed.
“You should get some sleep,” Callum said, standing up. “We go to six a.m. mass, then we’ll come back and have to help mom cook.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going downstairs to talk to Niall. Will you be okay up here alone?”
I nodded.
“Good night, Declan.”
“Night.”
I watched Callum walk out of the room, then curled up on the cot and blew out a sigh. Part of me was thrilled that he’d finally admitted that there was at least something between us.
But mostly I was sad for what I’d done to him. I loved him, I was pretty sure I couldn’t have helped that if I wanted to. But I’d pushed him. Manipulated him. And sent him into a spiral of uncertainty that he didn’t deserve.
I needed to give him space. I needed to let him make whatever decision he was going to make on his own. He’d told me no promises, and I wouldn’t continue to act like a petulant child and make him feel even worse.
None of this was really anyone’s fault. Love was love. And I didn’t know if he actually loved me, but I knew that if we were meant to be together, all I could do was trust that everything would work out. And if we weren’t…well, then I would go peacefully and be whatever he needed me to be.
Chapter Seven
~Callum~
“Where is young, Mr. McNair?” Niall asked as he sat next to me on the deck, setting a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the table in front of us.
“He’s upstairs,” I said. I lit a cigarette and leaned my head back against the chair, exhaling loudly. “Say what you want to me, but don’t fuck with him. Please.”
“I won’t fuck with either of you,” Niall promised. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“You brought him home to meet the family,” Niall argued. “Don’t tell me you don’t know.”
“That’s not what this is,” I snapped.
“Oh, you didn’t know we’d be here?” Niall teased. “You want a drink?”
“Yes, I want a drink. I want twenty drinks.” Not that any amount of alcohol was going to help me figure out what the hell I was doing. But for the moment, it wouldn’t hurt.
Niall poured a healthy measure of Jameson into each of our glasses.
“Sláinte mhaith” I said, raising mine.
“Sláinte agatsa,” he responded, raising his own.
We drained our glasses together, then I refilled them, going heavier than Niall had.
“So, we’re gonna go ahead and tie one on tonight?” he asked. “Should I have the boys come over now?”
“Yes. And no. I can’t talk to anyone else about this Niall,” I pleaded. “I didn’t even want to talk to you about it.”
“Murphy and Ronan are your brothers, and they love you,” he insisted. “They’re not going to judge you.”
“That’s not the point,” I said. “The less people who know, the better I’ll feel, okay?”
Plus, they would absolutely judge me. And make fun of me. And probably Declan as well and it would be hard enough to deal with all that shit at dinner with them, I wasn’t going to invite the chaos over early.
“Yeah, alright.” He took a sip of his whiskey then set the glass down again. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head.
“Do you love him?”
That was the million-dollar question, really. Did I love Declan? Or was I just fascinated by the young, handsome man who was the first person to actively pursue me?
“I don’t know.”
“Well,” Niall said, knocking back the rest of his drink and slamming the glass onto the table. “Sounds like you’re fucked, mate.”
“Too right,” I agreed, draining my glass as well. “Enough about my mess. What’s up with you?”
“Nothing much.” Niall shrugged, but he shifted his gaze away from me and I knew he was lying.
“Dude.” I flicked my cigarette butt at him. “I tell you I’m thinking about leaving the church for a man and you won’t tell me what’s going on in your life? Harsh.”
“It’s complicated,” he said.
I glared at him and when he finally looked back at me we both cracked up. What the hell wasn’t complicated at this point in our lives?
He filled our glasses again and I didn’t argue. I watched the pain lines etching my little brother’s face and my heart broke for him. He was going through something right now, and I was sitting here bitching about my own life.
“You can tell me,” I said, accepting the glass back from him. “For the moment I’m still a priest. You can confess to me and I’ll keep it confidential. I would anyway.”
“Not yet.” Niall shook his head. “Soon, okay? I’m just not ready to talk.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Okay.”
We sat together in silence for a while. I smoked my way through half a pack of cigarettes, my head and my heart warring over what I was going to do about Declan.
I knew what I wanted, but I wasn’t sure that was actually what was best for him. He was going to be a professional hockey player. Did he really need the stigma of being attached to a former priest? I’d look like a predator. He didn’t need that kind of drama in his life.
He claimed that he loved me, and maybe he did, what the hell did I know? But he was young. Really, really young. And he just deserved better.
“I’m going to bed,” I said finally. I knocked back the rest of my drink and slammed the glass on the table. “See you in the morning.”
“Night,” Niall said.
I walked upstairs and when I opened the door, I sighed in frustration. Declan was curled up on the cot, still across the room from my bed, apparently fast asleep. I hated to admit it, but I’d kind of hoped he’d still be awake. Almost wished that he’d crawled into my bed.
This was better. Safer. But damn it…I cared about him. And I wanted him.
I walked over and stared down at Declan. His eyes fluttered open and I smiled as he yawned.
“What are you doing?” Declan asked. His gaze narrowed. “Are you drunk?”
“Only a little,” I admitted.
“Did you want to tuck me in?” Declan teased.
“Maybe.” I knelt down and straightened the covers over him.
His hand covered mine and we stared into each other’s eyes for far too long. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry for what I was putting him through. I wanted to ask him for patience, for time, for grace.
“Not like this,” Declan whispered, reach
ing up to run a finger over my cheek.
“I’m not that drunk,” I promised him. “And I wasn’t going to kiss you.”
“But you thought about it,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk.
“I have thought about it,” I admitted, taking his hand in mine and placing them on his chest.
“Does your accent always get thicker when you’re drunk?” he asked.
“I’m not drunk,” I said again. “It’s more from being around my family. It will be worse at dinner tomorrow. There may be times you don’t understand a word that’s coming out of anyone’s mouths.”
“I like it.” Declan traced the back of my hand with his fingers. “Good night, Callum.”
“Night, Declan.” I whispered, getting to my feet and crossing to my own bed.
I fell onto my mattress and rolled onto my side, staring out the window.
“Dear Lord,” I prayed in my head. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do. Is this a test of my faith or a test of accepting the gift of love from you? I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”
I blinked back tears as I flipped to my back and stared at the ceiling. My heart was breaking, and I didn’t know how much fight I had left in me. Whoever pushed harder was going to win, because I didn’t know how to make this decision on my own.
Chapter Eight
~Declan~
“Good morning, sunshine,” I teased as I sat down on the mattress next to Callum. “I brought coffee.”
“Thanks.” He sat up and leaned against the headboard and I realized he’d slept in his clothes.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” He gave me a confused look. “Why?”
“Well, you came to bed smelling like a speakeasy last night.” I shrugged. “Thought you might be hungover.”
“I don’t get hungover,” he insisted. “Besides, I wasn’t drunk. What time is it?”
“Seven-thirty,” I told him.
“You let me sleep through mass?”
“I am not your alarm clock, Father Ryan,” I informed him, adding an Irish accent to the inflection.
“Cute. Did my mother teach you that?” He rolled his eyes then took a sip of coffee.