He pressed his lips together in thought, and after a few long seconds he nodded. “Yes please, Daddy.”
I winced but ignored the word. He was clearly distraught and cold, lost in his own mind. After a good night’s sleep he’d be more mentally stable. He hadn’t meant to call me that.
With everything decided, I rushed to take care of a few last-minute things, and then we left out the front doors. The walk home shouldn’t have taken us long, but Phoenix was weak and I needed to guide him more than I would’ve someone else. I kept my hand under his arm and did my best to shield him from the rain with my umbrella. In the darkness I couldn’t see him properly, which was a shame because even though he was too skinny, he was truly beautiful to look at. I’d never met a man quite as stunning as him.
By the time we made it home the rain had let up some, but the lightning and thunder continued to wage war on the city. A particularly loud boom overhead had Phoenix flinching, and my grip on him softened in sympathy. I’d seen enough battered women in my church to know when someone had been abused.
We took the steps up onto the porch of my small two-bedroom brown-brick home, and I unlocked the door for us. My house wasn’t anything fancy, but I was proud of it. After the accident, I’d donated all the blood money I’d received to the church and started fresh. Even though this building wasn’t like the large mansions and estates my family members each had, it washome, and it was real—and most importantly, it wasn’t funded by death and sin.
As soon as we got inside, I switched on the lights that ringed the living room we’d walked into. Slowly, so I didn’t scare him, I took the blanket off him and folded it over my arm. He watched me, not moving, barely breathing, as though terrified I’d hit him if he protested. My heart hurt.
“I’m only going to wash it.” Smiling, I touched his back gently. “Would you like to shower, and then we’ll get you something to eat?”
He opened his mouth but closed it again before he nodded. He chewed on his bottom lip nervously, and I kept smiling to put his mind at ease. I led him through the living room to the short hallway on the left. Once we got to the bathroom door, I grabbed a towel from the linen closet and passed it to him. He took the fluffy cloth with wide eyes and swallowed nervously.
“You’ll be fine here for the night, Phoenix, and then in the morning we’ll talk about your options.”
“Options?” His voice was barely audible in the otherwise quiet house.
I touched his arm gently. “Yes. We’ll need to find you a place to stay. There are a few homeless shelters that work with the church, one will help us.”
“But can’t I stay here?” He gave me big, pleading eyes. “Just until Daddy comes to find me? When he does, I’ll say I’m sorry, and he’ll forgive me, and then I can go home.”
I frowned down at his ratty clothes. “Do you want to go back to him? Look what he did to you.”
“I was bad.” His pink lips trembled. “I should’ve been better.”
I shook my head furiously. “No,heshould have been better.”
“If I don’t have Daddy, no one else will take care of me.” He sounded so lost, and I hated seeing people in this position, but it wasn’t rare. I’d come across a lot of abuse victims during my years as the priest at St. Michael’s.
“Don’t you have family?” I touched his other arm, gripping him gently with both hands. “Someone you can ask for help?”
He shook his head, wet hair plastered against his pale cheeks. “I left everything for my Daddy. I....” He frowned and his brow furrowed. “There is no one else.”
I sucked in a deep breath. There was a rule about being a priest—as much as I tried to help everyone, I couldn’t. I knew this and I had to accept it. Yet something about this man was different. He reminded me of myself, lost and in a terrible position. I could turn him toward God, bring him into the church. Maybe send him to seminary school. I could help change his life.
“Then you can stay here.”
“You’ll protect me?” he whispered, eyes widening. I was struck again by the different colors of his irises and how vibrant they both were. He was a work of art.
“I’ll protect you.” I squeezed his arms gently. “Now, come on. Go shower. I’ll get you some clothes.”
He gave me a smile that had my stomach twisting pleasantly, but I ignored the feeling and guided him into the bathroom before closing the door behind him. Once I heard the water running, I went to the washing machine across the hall from the linen closet and threw the blanket in, along with some soap and softener. I didn’t know if the fabric was salvageable, but I was going to try.
My bedroom was the door on the right of the hallway, and it was modest—a double bed, dresser, closet, and a pair of nightstands made of mahogany. One of the local carpenters made all my wooden furniture, and it added a homey touch I enjoyed. The color scheme was a boring white, though, and I had no reason to change it. Most of my days were spent at the church anyway.
I grabbed some of my smaller clothing from the dresser—a plain black T-shirt and a loose pair of red pajama pants—then went back to the bathroom door. The water wasn’t running anymore, and I had my hand raised to knock when the door flung open, revealing Phoenix standing in nothing but the towel wrapped around his thin waist.
I froze, a lump caught in my throat as I stared at the inches of bare creamy skin, naked for my feasting gaze. A hunger punched me in the gut, worse than anything the alcohol did to me, and my breath snagged. How long had it been since I’d touched a man? Too long. Years. I’d promised God I wouldn’t give in to my baser instincts, yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the dips and curves of his chest. My gaze sliced down the slim, almost concave lines of his belly and hips.
God help me.
I shoved the clothes at him and turned my back. It was a monumental effort to step away. “They’re for you. They might be too big, but they’ll do until we can buy you clothes of your own.” I cleared my throat. “I only have one bed, so you can have it while I crash on the couch.” The furniture in question was small, only a two-seater, but I would have a better chance of sleeping cramped in the living room than with him close by. “We’ll need to look into buying you a bed for the spare room. It’s currently storage.” The uncontrollable surge of words shot from my mouth, and I shook my head. This wasn’t me. I always knew what to say.
“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor near your bed,” he said, so quietly I had to strain to hear the words.
I turned toward him again, relieved to find him with the clothes on, even if they were too big and hung off him, much like the blanket had. He smiled and brushed his hair off his face.
