“I think if you’re with me, I can do it.” The words just spill from my mouth. I was thinking it, but I hadn’t planned on saying it.
Joy and relief and something very warm and soft crosses his eyes.
“Of course, I’ll come with you,” he says.
“Good,” I say and stand up. My heart’s not racing anymore and the air I’m breathing tastes sweeter than it has in a long time. All my anxiety that gushed out as I imagined talking to Gael is suddenly gone, replaced by a soft certainty that I have made the right decision.
“You mean we should go now?” Nico asks.
I smile. “You can have coffee and a shower first. But yeah, no time like the present. I want to end this. And I want to go home.”
Both Zane and Nico nod at that.
“I’ll get the breakfast and coffee, you get ready,” I say, grab my jacket and head for the door.
The bright sun on my face feels so good. Like a new beginning. Like I’ve shed a thousand pounds of ballast and can finally float free for the first time in a very long time. And only a part of that is getting the chance to finally confront Gael and get justice. The rest is all to do with Nico and this freedom from fear and bad memories he’s given me.
He’s someone I can lean on, whose strength I can borrow so I don’t have to keep burning my own for everything. It’s something I didn’t even fully know I’ve been missing. But now that I have it, I have no idea how I did without for so long.
28
Nico
Zane woke me up then busted into our room before I could have some time alone with Alice—to see what she thought of last night and to hopefully get a few more kisses in. I didn’t get the kisses, but that sweet blush and sweeter smile she gave me when I wished her good morning was actually all I needed.
Her saying she can confront the priest if I’m by her side was too. Definitely what I wanted to hear, probably more than I deserve.
I’d still prefer to just off him and be done with it, but she made some good points. Not the crap about our immortal souls, since that ship probably sailed for all of us a long time ago. Besides, I don’t believe in any of that. But the murder bringing heat down on us, that was pure sense.
Though as we sit in the back pew of the cool church, waiting for the last of the older women who came here to pray on this Saturday morning to leave, I’m back to my plan A and fuck the consequences. This church is supposed to be a place of peace, serenity, and comfort. Not fear and suffering. Not pain andsorrow. And that priest is supposed to be the source of all the good things.
He’s not here, but I hope he shows up soon. One of the ladies told me he always comes by around noon on Saturdays, and that she’d love to see him today, but has an urgent errand to run.
Alice is completely silent beside me, sitting rigidly upright, her hands balled together in her lap. All color is gone from her face and even her gorgeous silver-grey eyes. They’re just dull and dark now. She’s in her biker getup, her long, luxurious hair braided up tightly—armor against what’s coming, I’m sure. But she doesn’t need it, because I’m here.
The last of the praying ladies gets up, takes one last look at the altar, makes the sign of the cross over her chest, and wobbles down the center aisle to the exit.
As soon as she’s gone, I get up and bolt the door behind her. It’s fifteen minutes to twelve.
I’m on my way back to sit by Alice’s side when the priest appears from the shadows along the side of the altar. Like he’d been lurking there all this time.
The scent of incense in the air intensifies as he greets me with a wide smile. I always hated the scent of incense in churches. Made my eyes water and my throat burn. It’s the same now.
I glance at Alice, but she’s just staring straight ahead at the priest as he approaches us.
“I thought I wouldn’t see you until tomorrow at Mass,” the priest says. “But I had expected a fuller church this Saturday morning.”
He glances at Alice too, but I don’t think he realizes we’re here together.
“We usually have worshipers here at all times of the day,” he continues. “That’s why I keep the doors unlocked. Because everyone is welcome.”
I walk over to Alice and lay my hand on her shoulder. She’s still completely rigid and she even feels like stone. Not cold, never cold. But hard, immovable.
“We’re not here to worship,” I tell the priest.
He follows my arm all the way to Alice’s face. The recognition of who she is unfolds across his face in slow motion.
She rises as he recognizes her and I let my hand slide off her shoulder. I’m here if she needs me, but I think she needs to have this confrontation by herself. For herself.
