“I’m okay, I just needed some fresh air.” He turned towards her. “I came back to apologize, but—”
“You have nothing to apologize for. If anyone needs to apologize, it's me and Henry.” She looked over at him, her eyes red. “I’m sorry, honey, I…” her voice trembled. “I shouldn’t have pushed the way I did. Maybe then—”
He walked over to the couch and sat on the edge. He grabbed her hands, rubbing his thumbs across her weathered knuckles. “It wasn’t your fault, Mom, please don’t blame yourself.”
“Honey, I want you to know that I will always love you regardless of what anyone else thinks, okay?” She held his hands firmly. “You were my little miracle. God’s greatest gift to me after I lost your…” She looked away for a moment, taking a shuddering breath. “After I lost your sister, I prayed for you. Promised that no matter what, I would love you unconditionally.” She cupped Illias’ cheek and wiped away a stray tear. “All I wanted was for you to be healthy and happy, baby. And I can tell you haven’t been happy in a while.”
For what felt like the hundredth time that night, his eyes burned with tears.
“I should have never asked you to come back.” Her eyes watered. “I knew you and Henry didn’t see eye to eye. I just didn’t realize just how bad things really were. Or maybe I didn’t want to see how bad things were. Either way, I’m sorry.” She swallowed and Illias thought his heart might actually break watching tears run down her cheeks. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better.”
“It’s okay, you did your best. I’m glad I came back.” He squeezed her hand. “Really, I am. I’ve missed you. But maybe just the two of us can visit going forward?”
She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes completely. “Anything for my baby.” She stroked his cheek. “I love you so, so much, Illias. Nothing will ever change that.”
Illias slid onto the floor and wrapped his arms around his mom’s waist, shoulders shaking. She petted his hair, shushed him gently as a mother does, and all of a sudden, he was five years old again, crying in the lap of the person he knew would always be there for him. Wondering why the world felt so very big while he felt so very small.
Illias didn’t sleep well when he got home that night nor in the weeks that followed. He did his best to hide his exhaustion.Smiled pretty at any handsome man he thought was worth a night. Exchanged numbers with a handful he saw potential repeats in. It was easy enough to put on a persona at work and pretend that he was okay. However, on his days off, there was nothing to distract him. Sleeping wasn’t an option—which was an unfortunate recurrence given his insomnia—and nothing he did kept his mind occupied.
Except for when he thought of a certain priest.
On the very edges of drifting off, Illias’ mind tempted him with images of Cantrell. Fantasies of him pressing Illias against the confessional door, hand over his mouth while another hand worked to unfasten his pants. Illias moaned softly as he slid a hand beneath his pajama bottoms, wishing it was Cantrell’s hand instead. Illias stroked himself slowly the way he imagined Cantrell would. He seemed like the type to tease and edge until his partner couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck,” Illias breathed, pressing his head into the pillows as he stroked himself faster. “Cantrell.”
His phone began to ring, making him jump. Illias snatched his phone from the nightstand only to see Charity’s name lighting up the screen. With a groan, he answered.
“Hey!” Charity chirped on the other end. “Are you doing anything today?”
Illias bit back a smart remark. “No, what’s up?”
“I wanted to see if you wanted to come with me to Saint Anthony’s again.”
Illias tossed back the blankets and got out of bed, knowing that going to Saint Anthony’s made Charity happy. “Sure. I can knock off some more stuff on that list you gave me the other week.”
“Awesome! I’ll see you in…fifteen?”
“Yeah sure, why not.”
“See you soon!”
Tossing his phone on the counter, Illias walked over to the shower and turned it on. A shower would solve hisissueand would, hopefully, wake him up. Given the limited time before Charity arrived, he settled for a quick cold shower. Once he finished, he hurriedly dried off and got dressed.
As he pulled on his shoes, his phone chimed and showed a message from Charity stating she was outside. Illias grabbed his phone from the bed where he tossed it then snatched his keys off the nightstand before heading out. He jogged down the short pathway to Charity’s car. He opened the car door and she glanced up from her phone. “I feel like every time I see you, you have something new on,” she commented as she scanned his outfit.
“Well, technically it’s not new, I mean, it’s new to us but—”
“Oh my God, I get it, you thrift,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “Just get in.”
The rest of the ride to Saint Anthony’s was filled with Illias rattling on about the latest happenings at Nirvana’s and Charity revealing she was back in school to pursue a nursing degree. When they arrived, they walked in together but went their own way once inside. Illias headed towards the supplies closet to get the tool kit he used last time. Walking down the hallway, he noticed the yellow light spilling from the small room. Confused as to who might be there, Illias approached with caution. He stepped into the doorframe to see a black clerical uniform and a silver head of hair. “Cantrell?”
Cantrell flinched, hitting his head on the shelf above him. Illias suppressed a laugh when the priest bit out a soft swear. Cantrell turned and all color drained from his face. “Illias, what a pleasant surprise,” he said, voice pitched higher than normal. He cleared his throat. “What are you doing at Saint Anthony’s so early?”
“I came with Charity.” Illias raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”
Cantrell let out a heavy sigh. “Trying not to lose my sanity.” He ran his fingers through his short hair. “I got a call this morning that two teenagers were found in the supply room. Not that there’s anything here worth taking but…” He gestured vaguely. “One must do their due diligence I suppose.”
“Never hurts to be careful.”
Silence fell between them and Illias shifted his weight, looking anywhere but at the priest. A part of him felt ridiculous for feeling any sort of way about Cantrell. It wasn’t like they interacted much outside of church. They barely interactedinchurch. Yet, Illias couldn’t deny the flutter of his heart when Cantrell placed a comforting hand on his shoulder when they talked about Illias’ parents. Or how his body burned late at night when he couldn’t sleep because all he could think about was Cantrell pinning him to the door of the confessional booth and—
