“Yes. Or scaring you. Or upsetting you like I did today at the restaurant. I might still ask some uncomfortable questions, but I need to know what is going on in your head, and I will stop if you ask.”
I sat there stunned for so long that he rubbed the back of my hands and gave off the impression that he thought the conversation was over, but I was still trying to figure out how to voice what I wanted to say. He was my Daddy; he got to make the rules. I didn’t have a say in any of it... except he seemed to think I did.
“I have things to do at the church and an elderly parishioner to visit in the hospital. Why don’t you take some time? Nap. Put your pillow and blanket on the bed. Finish your food. Eat anything you want here. If you make a list of foods you like, we’ll pick them up.”
Tears prickled my eyes and I felt overwhelmed. I didn’t deserve this. “And then what, Daddy?”
“Then... wash your new clothes. If you’re feeling up to it, you can help out at the church tonight, but you don’t have to.”
I lunged forward, not thinking about anything much, other than how happy I was right now. “Thank you, Daddy.” He ran his hand along the back of my head, and I sank into his embrace.
“This hurt the most.”
“What?” he asked. I could hear the confusion in his voice, but his tone was kind and gave me courage.
“I never earned anything good. I’m always a burden.”
“You are not.” He turned, just a bit, and pressed the corner of his mouth to my temple. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was so close to one and felt so caring that I lost it. I fell apart on him and couldn’t stop, even though I would probably upset him. I cried and clung, and he patted my back without saying a single mean word.
6
GIAN
I hunchedover my desk in my office and stared at my phone, my gut cramping uncomfortably as Ric’s name flashed on the screen. Opening the message was even worse.
Ric:I heard you’ve got a hot piece of ass you’ve been playing with.
I swallowed down the acid that rose in my throat and locked the phone without responding. I wasn’t worried about Ric being interested in Phoenix because he was straight, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t torture me with Phoenix’s safety. Then there was Toma, who would happily hurt someone I cared about.
“Father Gian, where do you want me to put these?” Sister Mary gave me a wide smile from behind a basket of goods. Her wrinkles deepened and made her skin appear fragile, and she pursed her lips and blew a strand of her gray hair out of her face. It was getting closer to the time to open the church doors for those in need, and Phoenix had been hard at work helping the Sisters put the final touches on the hall, where they’d sorted clothes and food. “This is the last donation, and it came from the mayor himself.”
I held back a snort. Yes, Mayor Silas Hargrave and I knew each other well. He was on my cousin’s payroll, like a lot of other important figures in St. Loren, Louisiana, and it fit his personality well to be the last person to drop off something for our community donation drive. He wanted everyone to remember him and what hedidfor this city.
“Take it to Sister Joan. She’s in the hall doing the final arrangement of the tables.”
Sister Mary nodded and left. I needed to go make sure everything was ready, but I took the time to change into one of the extra black button-downs I kept around at the church for events like this and added a white collar. After I looked presentable, I went to check on Phoenix. He was helping Sister Joan hang shirts on plastic hangers, and whatever she said to him had him smiling. Now that we’d had our little talk, he was feeling more comfortable around the nuns and that made me happy. He needed someone other than me.
“Is that him?” a masculine voice asked behind me, and I turned with a grin. I greeted Father Malachi with a handshake, and he patted me on the shoulder as he stepped closer. Malachi Eaton and I had been friends in high school, along with another guy named Jericho, and right after graduation he’d entered college and had then gone on to seminary school. His family was a lot more devout than mine, and his mother, a sweet woman with a deep loyalty to God, was from Columbia.
Malachi wasn’t as tall as me, but he had similar dark brown hair and short scruff that had women swooning. I hadn’t missed the looks he’d been given in church, even from the married parishioners. They weren’t to be blamed—Malachi was model handsome, and I knew for a fact he was ripped under his black shirt. There was nothing sexual between us, but we’d dressed in the same room.
“Is that who?” I asked, eyeing the few people in the hall. Malachi was usually here as much as me, since we split a lot of duties, but I was the leader of the church.
“The one Sisters Mary and Joan were talking about.” He quirked a grin at me and nodded toward Phoenix. “The boy you’re helping.”
“He’s not a boy, he’s in his midtwenties, at least.” I didn’t know why I’d focused on that.
Malachi raised dark eyebrows at me, and I felt like a bug under a microscope—scrutinized. He knew my preferences. “Do you think keeping him at your house is wise? We are priests, Gian, and we can’t save everyone.”
“He’s been abused,” I argued quietly. I didn’t want anyone overhearing us.
He stared at me with kind brown eyes. “We know a lot of people who are abused, and we have a protocol. We send them to domestic violence charities who can help them.”
Malachi was four months younger than me, but sometimes he spoke like he was ten years older and I was a child being reprimanded.
“Phoenix is different.” I turned to stare at him, and we’d caught his attention. He’d stopped hanging up clothes, and when he noticed me looking he smiled in a way that had my stomach clenching. I didn’t want to think about how beautiful he was, but anyone would have to be blind not to notice. He waved, and I returned it before he got back to work.
“What do you mean by different?” There was genuine interest in Malachi’s voice. “We’ve had handsome men in church before—gay men,singlegay men—and none have interested you.”
