I tilted my head when we crossed into the vestibule. “Oh?”
“I believe God is everywhere. There’s a reason you keep finding him on the steps of St. Michael’s.”
I smiled softly, letting his words roll around in my head. “Maybe.”
“Hey.” Bastien’s hand was brushing against mine again, our bodies hovering between innocence and intimacy. “Do you always make a habit of doubting a holy man?”
“As much as possible.” I laughed. “Oh, I almost forgot, Lucy can’t find her copy of the key for the cottage—I told her it’s probably pregnancy brain and it’ll turn up, but maybe we should get another made just in case?”
“She lost her key?” His shoulders tensed, eyes turning dark. “When?”
“She didn’t say, why?”
He shook his head. “I thought I saw someone in your yard the other night—the night it rained—”
“Really?” I asked.
He nodded. “It’s not unusual to find people taking shortcuts through the churchyard at night, but it rattled me.”
I frowned, trying to recall if I’d seen anything unusual that night. I’d been so emotional, in truth, I hadn’t really noticed much of anything through my tears. “I didn’t see anything that night.”
A small group of elderly parishioners paused to hug Bastien then before turning to me, each of the women gushing on the success of the festival and how much life we were adding to the community.
As they spoke, heartache settled over my shoulders like storm clouds. If they realized we weren’t their saviors, but sinners of the flesh… I smiled softly, doing my best to push down the guilt as they shuffled away.
“This place is so special,” I murmured.
“I know you feel you don’t belong here, but God is in your heart, Tressa, why you keep finding him on the steps of St. Michael’s is the better question.” His eyes burned hot on mine. “I think this is your home, you’re only afraid to admit it.”
The pain of his words clawed at my throat.
I had to find a job and get some cash flowing into my bank account. I couldn’t be here when this all fell apart.
And it would.
Bastien and I were two fast-moving trains in the night, too far gone to turn around, moving too rapidly to hit the brakes in time. We would crash and burn, and it would be a public affair. Bastien was too sweet; I couldn’t let his entire life’s mission crumble to ash. I wasn’t the one with a reputation and sacred vow to protect. And while he obviously could survive a life without me in it, I was certain he couldn’t survive without his holy flock.
Blood was thicker than water, and Bastien had pledged his to God.
What we were was heartbreakingly shallow in comparison. Correction.I was shallow.
Bastien was holy.
FOURTEEN
Bastien
Later that night, after I’d driven Cruz back to the train station and promised to come to the city just as soon as I had a single day off, I’d spent the ride back to the parish with my thoughts lingering on Tressa.
As if they spent time anywhere else these days.
I’d chastised myself a thousand different ways from Sunday for letting my thoughts tangle with her, but the fact was, I wanted only what was best, and it was my desire to help and guide people to love that’d brought me to this vocation in the first place.
I just hadn’t expected to tangle with anyactuallove myself. I’d never felt the emotion before—I’d never felt anything for anyone beyond general wellbeing and a desire to be of service—but when I’d found myself putting thoughts of Tressa before myself—her wellbeing ahead of my own—the desire to die rather than see her heart break another moment—well that blurred the boundaries I was expected to uphold by a thousand miles.
But at least this day I finally might have a solution for her, so when I pulled into my church parking space and parked the dark sedan, I was surprised to find her sitting on the front stoop, arms curved around her small form and clouds of her breath enveloping the cold air around her.
She looked freezing and my only instinct was to wrap her in my arms. “Why is it I keep finding you outside looking like someone just kicked your puppy?”
