Sweetest Sin(74)

“It wasn’t beautiful, Honor. I see that now.”

He turned from me, frustrated. His desk cleared of clutter, and that was good. The tension straining his arms might have cast anything within arm’s reach to the floor.

He grunted. “What I did to you was horrific. I made you kneel. I made you take me in your mouth. I had you beneath me because, in my mind, that’s where you belonged. On your knees. On your back. You were the object of my pleasure, and I meant to take you that night in every way that would have satisfied me.”

“Good thing I liked it then.”

“It wasn’t my intent.”

He lied, and he knew it. That was why he fell into silence. It must have been. He didn’t know what he believed anymore, about his faith or about himself. It was the first time I saw him truly frustrated.

Or was he frightened?

“That night wasn’t about desecrating my church,” he said. “I wanted to control you. That’s what sex is. Not the pleasure we feel but the power we take from another’s body. I took you because it made me feel powerful. Now do you understand?”

The implication hurt. “Was that all you think it was? Just a way for you to be cruel to me?”

“That’s the world, Honor. I would have protected you from it…if I hadn’t proven how vile I could be.”

“Stop it.” I met his gaze, but I didn’t recognize the man behind the self-inflicted darkness. “Father. Rafe. Don’t you understand what you’re saying? You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t hurt yourself. Nothing is unforgivable. You preach that. You taught me that—”

“You don’t know the thoughts in my mind.”

“And you don’t know what I feel in my heart. What does yours say, Father? What do you feel in your soul?”

“I’ve lost my soul. I’ve destroyed myself. I’ve destroyed everything I loved. My faith. My willpower. My honor. And what remains is a demon of a man who wants nothing more than to violate you again, prove my power with every groan of my name upon your lips.”

I wished he had told me the night meant nothing to him. That I was an excuse for a man to explore his sexuality and get off, easy and quick.

But Father Rafael had done all he could to make that night something dark and beautiful. The candles. The altar. The oils. The gifted rosaries. He meant to explore that wicked sin with me.

And I had felt something then. Him. The real Raphael. A man, gentle and loving and hurting. Hurting so much. Hiding that pain and struggling every day with the reality of the burdens he carried. Something happened to him that perverted his view of sex and desire. Something that prevented him from understanding why I offered my body and soul.

I would have helped him. I would have healed him.

But he didn’t want that redemption.

He didn’t even try.

“You aren’t a monster, Father,” I whispered. “You’re broken. Let me in, and I’ll help you.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t ask for your help or forgiveness.”

“Ever?”

“No.”

But I would have given it if he would have let me care for him.

I turned without a word. I never thought anything would hurt more than the fear of losing my soul.

This was worse.

I lost him. And I couldn’t save us both.

I couldn’t save us at all.

Father Raphael didn’t try to stop me as I left his office, and he didn’t emerge during the festival preparations. Hours passed in useless discussion about foods, vendors, and setting the stage for the choirs, but I didn’t remember a word that was spoken. After night fell, and after a quick choir practice with Alyssa and Samantha that I requested just so I didn’t have to return home, I finally left.

I drove slowly and cleared Mom’s recent call from my phone. I’d have to face her tonight. She deserved an explanation. I had no idea how to begin or if it was worth opening old wounds, but sitting outside the apartment wouldn’t help. The prayer didn’t work either, but I gripped Father Raphael’s rosaries anyway.

My key stuck in the apartment door, and I groaned. I jiggled the handle. It didn’t move. I knocked. Twice. Three times. Mom didn’t answer. I knew she went to bed early these days, but it wasn’t even ten.

I pounded louder. Nothing. I gritted my teeth, slamming a hand against the key lodged in the knob. The door finally yielded. The lights were out, and I groped my way inside.

“Mom?” My voice echoed, even in the small space. “I’m back.”

She didn’t answer. Probably asleep. I turned the corner and tripped over her slipper.

My mother lay collapsed upon the hallway floor.