His thumb draws small circles on my hand. “You really scared me. I know we’re friends, but I couldn’t stand the sight of you bleeding out.”
Gripping his hand tighter, I say, “We aren’t friends. You’re mine. No label needed. But I refuse to let you go back to pushing me away. If you thought I was persistent before, you can’t even imagine how I’ll be now. I’m not a man of feelings, really. I know how to run a bar and kill people. I won’t be stopping either of those things. Just get on board Father.”
“We can’t be anything other than friends.” Ewen whispers.
18
EWEN
It’s been a week since Declan showed up at the church, bloody and knocking on death’s door. I stepped back from my duties from the church to stay by his side. The amazing group of nuns continued to handle the kitchen tasks and feed those in need. I’m thankful to have them.
Declan is finally being released. The police came back to ask their questions. I had told him the story I gave to the police. His family even helped spin the mugging narrative. By the time I heard it told, even I wanted to believe it as the truth. The neighborhood cops know him so they didn’t second guess any of it. Why would the kind bar owner ever lie? Especially with the priest claiming the same thing.
I haven’t left his side since he’s been in the hospital. I didn’t even leave to shower. Caleb has been the definition of a brother. He brought me clothes and took care of Beocca. I feel terrible for abandoning my congregation and my furry companion, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from Declan.
Bishop Wilson told me I was doing right by my position, being a devout leader to my flock by showing care for someone who sought the church for saving. And saving him is what I did. But I wasn’t here for him because of our positions, I’m herebecause I care for him, truly. When he showed up and nearly died in my arms, all I could think was please don’t leave. I wanted to be able to see his jade eyes on me again.
In that moment I felt something deep in my chest for him. A strange, foreign feeling, but a feeling I wasn’t ready to move on from.
“Alright, let’s blow this popsicle stand. I’m so sick of these boring white walls, and the smell of bleach,” Declan says as the final discharge paper is signed, and he’s fully cleared to leave. The doctors wanted him to stay longer but he’s been adamant he’s fine, and by law they can’t keep him if he wants to leave. Caleb said he’d continue to check on him, making Fiona swoon even harder.
He looks like himself, mostly. His color has fully returned. The only tell that he’d even been through such an ordeal is his left arm sits snuggly at his side, protecting the wound that still probably aches. That was the biggest injury of them all—the one I held closed. The warmth of his blood still haunts me.
He leans in close, grazing his thumb across my cheek. “Hey, everything’s okay. I survived. Let’s go. I’ll let you drive me home and I can show you my place.” I look up at him. I see only a genuinely kind person, yet I know he is anything but.
“I would like that, I just can’t stay long. I’m needed back at the church. My duties are calling.” My words carry nothing but sadness.
I reach down and pick up his bag of belongings. “Damn,” Declan says with a growl.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I see him checking out my rear. A blush creeps up my face. I never thought someone ogling my butt would be exciting.
Playfully waving him off I flee the room, not giving him time to see how embarrassed I am. Declan waves goodbye to the staff he knows. He says they’re all regulars at the bar.
Everyone assumes I’m just his priest, the one who found him and saved him from the edge of death out of duty. Which is true, but also not. I care for him. Have feelings even. But to what extent do those feelings go? To a level I as a priest am not able to give him.
We climb into my Jeep and settle in. It’s never felt small but with Declan in it, it feels like a Hot Wheels. He directs me to his house—or should I say factory? “It was about to be torn down. I couldn’t have that. It’s a part of Boston’s history. So, I bought it and had it renovated.” He smiles as we park in the driveway. One that’s large and clearly meant for freight trucks.
I grab his bag, refusing to let him carry or lift anything. He says he’s fine, but I will do what I can for him. He leads me to a door and unlocks it. We step in and I’m greeted by a large, open concept of a home. It’s modern while still keeping with the feel of old. The walls are all red brick on the interior, a living room area and an open kitchen.
I place his stuff by a set of stairs. Sorrow tugs at my insides. I don’t want to leave him. For the first time in my life, the church hasn’t been my first thought. In this moment, it’s the last thing on my mind. I haven’t done my prayers in days. I did some while he was unconscious but the second he woke up, I threw them out the door. Declan is a distraction from my faith. I just haven’t figured out if that’s a good thing or not.
“I’m going to go. If you need anything, just message or call. I’ll come check on you tonight after confirmation class with the teens.” I quickly turn away and rush to the door. This isn’t goodbye but it feels like one.
A strong hand falls on my shoulder, halting my departure. “Stay, please.” His voice wavers. “The bishop, or hell, that stern nun can do it.”
I shake my head, my back to him. “I can’t, this is my job. I need to be there for my congregation,” I say, hoping my words hold more conviction than I feel.
His grip on my shoulder tightens. “No, fuck that. I need you. Call the Bishop and ask him for more time. Tell him something. He led that church after Father Gallagher. No, you know what, fuck that. I’ll talk to Wilson. We’ve had dealings before.”
My curiosity piques at his comment but my sadness pushes it aside. His hand leaves me, and I turn to tell him that isn’t an option, but he’s already slid his phone from his pocket and is scrolling through contacts. He presses what he was looking for and brings the phone to his ear, holding eye contact. “Hello Bishop,” he says in greeting, letting me know exactly who he called. “Yes, I’m doing better. But I have a slight hiccup. Father Ewen has truly been an angel since my terrible attack. I was wondering if you would allow him some more time off. To help me.” His eyes never waver from mine, proving he’s in control of this situation.
After whatever speech Bishop Wilson gives him he nods and winks at me. “Thank you so much Bishop. The kind Father will be back in a few days. I just need help and his readings from the Bible have brought a light into my world. We’ll talk soon.” He slides his phone back into his pocket.
“Since your precious congregation is taken care of for a couple more days, stay.” He steps into me, crowding me. I don’t back away. I embrace his warmth. The way his breaths expand his chest, causing it to ever so slightly touch mine. “And I’m not allowing you the choice of saying you can’t.”
He leans in and runs his nose along my jaw toward my ear. His breath caresses my ear when he speaks. “You are mine to enjoy for another couple days.”
19
