Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“You’re that song. I don’t know any of the words, but the tune is so damn familiar.”
I understood what he meant. I’d felt a connection from the first time we met, too. I didn’t want to scare him, but whatever was between us had always felt bigger than me—bigger than us.
Teasing, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Well, my body probably reminds you of some supermodel. I’m guessing the one that football player is married to.”
Caine smiled. “You mean Tom Brady?”
“That’s the one. My body? Dead ringer for his wife. And my heart, probably a little Mother Teresa.”
“Is that so?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “That must be it. I gotta run, Mother Teresa, and you need to get to work. I’ll see you tomorrow in class. I’ll be the one at the front of the room, ignoring you and trying not to stare at your rack.”
“Okay.” I pushed up on my tippy toes and kissed him this time. “And I’ll be the one you’ll know has no panties on.”
Caine
Fifteen years ago
She didn’t show up last week. It should have made me happy that after eight weeks of sneaking off to church, I finally had my Saturday back. But it didn’t. It made me anxious, and the goddamned week dragged.
I looked up at the cross above the church and grumbled to myself before going inside. Sorry about the goddamned, big guy.
The church was empty as usual, and I had a song to learn, so I went to my regular spot to take a load off rather than stalking outside. Liam had been on one of his drunk-songwriting binges again. But after the last fiasco where he could only remember half of a kick-ass song, we’d all chipped in and bought him a portable digital recorder. The thing was smaller than a phone and could record twenty hours of music with the press of a button. It worked great. When he showed up hungover at practice this morning after his typical Friday night drinking and songwriting session, he couldn’t remember shit. But all we had to do was upload.
We were grateful Liam had remembered to turn the damn thing on. Only, unfortunately for us—and for him—he didn’t remember to turn it off all night. We were definitely going to find a way to sample some of his midnight jerking-off grunts on a track in the future.
I sat in the dark confessional for almost a half hour with my earbuds in. Even though she hadn’t shown, at least I’d learned the lyrics Liam had come up with. When I was done, I sank down into the red velvety plush seat, closed my eyes, and put on some Bob Dylan. The sound of “Blowin’ in the Wind” blocked out everything else around me—including the sound of the door creaking open on the other side.
I wasn’t sure how long she’d been there when I finally opened my eyes and noticed her. Pulling a bud from my ear, I slipped from priest mode and let my sixteen-year-old self show. “Hey. I didn’t think you were going to come.”
The music blared from my dangling earbud.
“What are you listening to?” she asked.
I couldn’t very well tell her I’d been listening to Dylan. That wasn’t very priestly. “Some new hymns.”
“It sounds like Bob Dylan.”
I grinned. The kid knew Dylan. No wonder I liked her so much. I lowered my voice. “Shh. Let’s not let the other priests in on our little secret.”
I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was smiling. “Okay.”
“Speaking of secrets, what do you have for me today? Have you been a good little lamb?”
“My sister came back home.”
“To get you?”
“No. She got in trouble, and the police brought her home.”
Good. The police needed to be at that house. “What happened?”
“She was staying at her friend’s father’s hunting cabin up north. She drank all his liquor one night and wandered out to find a store and got lost. The police brought her home after she threw up all over the back of their car.”
“Did they talk to your parents?”
“They talked to Benny. I listened through my bedroom door. He lied to the police, told them she drinks all the time and runs away with boys. That she’d been that way for a while.”
Shit. “They didn’t ask any other questions?”
“Not really. There were two of them, and one knew Benny from the garage.”
“The garage?”
“Where Benny works.”
“Benny fixes cars? He’s a mechanic?”
“Yes.”
“How is your sister now?”
“She’s sad.”
“Why didn’t you come last week?”
“I couldn’t leave my sister alone. Benny was really mad at her after the police brought her home. He was drinking and yelling a lot for days.”
“Did he hurt her?”
“I think so.”
This wasn’t a game anymore. “You need to tell me. Did he or didn’t he?”
She was quiet for a long time. I’d decided that if she took off, either I was following her home or the two of us were going to finally meet face to face. The fact that I’d violated this poor little girl’s trust didn’t even matter. She could hate me and run away from the church for all I cared, so long as she was safe.