Laurie’s shoulders hunched away from him.
“Did he feel the same?”
The bed creaked as Laurie sat. “We were both struggling with our faith. We…had times together. Prayed after Mass, kept each other company while we studied old Hebrew texts and never talked about what happened when we turned down the lights.”
Decker clasped the edge of the tub and stood, water streaming from his hair and body as he tucked a towel around his waist and ran his hand through his hair to squeeze out the water. “And then you left. His family or yours?”
Silence answered him and Laurie picked at his fingers before burying them in the quilt next to him and glancing up. “It was me. The manuscripts I could get my hands on condemned us, andI was a fraud. Even abstinence wouldn’t have been enough to hide my shame. I left.” Laurie turned distant, voice pitching lower. “I took my things while he was at class. There was no way for me to know he’d gone to the dean about our—my—affinities.” The word nearly edged into a sneer, a thorn-prickle amongst his steady faith.
“When I arrived home, my father received word of Aunt Beatrice, and I took the will as my sign I was doing the right thing. Perhaps I could keep my faith if I fled across the country.” Laurie’s gaze shuttered. “My father received a second letter before I left. My dismissal from seminary.” His fingers ghosted over his delicately crooked nose. “He didn’t take it well.”
Would’ve expected nothing less with how you were when you arrived here.
“Did you love him?” Decker asked.
Laurie gave him a bitter smile. “How can you know you love a man, when you’re raised with humbleness? When looking in a mirror is vanity and taking pride in yourself is a mortal sin?”
Wounds opened raw, and Decker saw him as he was. Prying like a knife in the edge of a rusted can, he gave him no reprieve. “So you’ll stay in Ender’s Ridge and continually deny yourself happiness?”
“I am happy.”
“You’re repressed.”
He flushed, lips settling into a thin, stubborn line again, like if he opened them, the repression would burst into a fit of rage.
Decker made an attempt at sympathy. “I’ve run my whole life from what I am,whoI am. At least I am my greatest enemy, not a god who stays silent.”
“Have you ever listened? Have you wondered how you survived out there for years before you came here? God is the balance,” Laurie said with pulpit-ready conviction.
The classes he finished at seminary served him well and Decker nearly believed him. But not quite.
“What God would want me?”
“The God who made you as you are. The God who saved you from death in a fallen world, no matter the cost,” Laurie whispered harshly.
Decker gave him a wan smile. “At least you’ve kept your faith. Your faith will keep you warm at night, laugh with you, mourn with you. Faith, your only companion.”
“You have a wife you don’t love. You’re an expert on companionship.” The room was suddenly too cold and Laurie swallowed hard, his gaze flicking away.
Decker pulled his damp clothes off the grate, and it rattled against the stone. “I love Safine, more than anything. Do you know what that’s like, Laurie? Wanting so badly for someone to be happy, yet unable to provide the love they need, the love theydeserve?”
“I feel it when I see you.”
Decker’s damp pants scraped heavy canvas across his thighs as he yanked them up. “And yet we’re at a draw.”
“I can’t love you. I won’t,” Laurie said.
“Good. People who love me tend to die. I wouldn’t ask that of anyone.”
“Doyoulove me? Do you want to love me?” Laurie’s voice wavered, losing its bite as his fingers clenched a hole into the quilt.
Decker laughed.
Laurie frowned, his chin lifting as Decker moved closer. “I don’t see what’s amusing.”
“You.” The lie slipped between Decker’s teeth as smooth as expensive whiskey. “The only thing that interests me is your blood.”
Laurie stood, eyes snapping under damp curls. “Have you ever bitten someone without killing them?”
