Page 82 of Isaac

"Relax," I tell him. "We’re doing what everyone else is doing here. Buying stuff."

"I see."

As we move further between the aisles, my eyes drift over stuffed animals and bicycles before landing on a shelf filled with board games near the back. Monopoly, Life, Clue—simple things that bring back memories from my childhood when my mother was still happy and before Jacob turned our home into a living hell.

My hand hovers over the boxes and suddenly, I’m not sure anymore. I’m not sure that what I’m doing is right. It's like asking God to keep me in his mind when the Devil has already claimed me long time ago.

"Hey," Hawk’s voice comes from somewhere off to the side, yanking me out of my momentary haze.

I turn and meet a green stuffed iguana—or is it a lizard?— being shoved into my face.

"This has your name written all over it." He grins. "For your office."

I manage a shaky smile, taking the toy. "Jeremy will kill me if I put that in the office."

Hawk and I prowl through aisle after aisle in an almost ritual silence until our cart is full of action figures and Nerf guns and art supplies.

Standing shoulder to shoulder while waiting in line at the checkout and staring at a serpentine conveyor belt crawling ahead, I realize I haven’t felt this normal in a long time. There’s an unspoken communication developed between us, without words, in the form of stolen glances and accidental brushes of hands against each other.

And I like it.

I know it’s dangerous but I can’t control it, whatever it is.

Our next stop is an old church.

"Brace yourself," I warn, my fingers clasping around plastic handles of various bags bursting with toys, plucked from the mess spreading across our back seat. "These little rugrats are relentless."

"Sure thing." Hawk chuckles low and easy before jumping into action, hauling the remaining half of our purchases out of the cramped leather confines.

"You could’ve just admitted you needed an extra pair of hands," he says with a cheeky grin, whilst we navigate under the shadowed archway and toward the looming stone façade of the building. "It wouldn’t have killed ya."

"You would've made some excuse if I told you what I was up to." I quirk an eyebrow cynically at him as we tread carefully on worn cobblestones. "Who knows, you might have considered this work beneath you now that you’re a big shot..."

"Toy shopping?" He snorts out a laugh that bounces off the walls and sneaks into my chest, warming it up from the inside. And even though it’s hot as fuck outside, I can still feel it, this pocket of different kind of heat around my heart.

"Never beneath me," Hawk adds. "I’m always game."

This is where we reach the heavy doors of the church itself and I push them open.

Sister Angela—a small woman in her late fifties—greets us from the other end of the long hallway, rushing over. Her weathered face lights up like she's just seen heaven when her eyes land on our toy-filled bags.

"Isaac! What a delightful surprise!" she exclaims. Her smile deepens as she reaches out to give me a brief hug.

She’s tiny in figure, and every time I find myself naturally leaning into her comforting embrace. As she gently withdraws, her attention veers over to Hawk. "And who's this young man?"

"Ah, this is my—" I have to pause because this catches me off guard and I fumble. Not exactly for words, but to restore my sanity as I attempt to push away the dark scenarios replayed ever so vividly in my mind–from cool walls and marble rubbing against our bare skin to the mark left by my hands on him the other day. Damn it all, these blasphemous thoughts about another man’s cock in God's house are certain to seal my damnation no matter what meets me at life's end…

Finally managing to compose myself just enough, I present him against the chaos rendering inside me. "My friend, Hawk."

"Bless you both," Sister Angela coos.

"Nice to meet you, Sister," Hawk says, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes, curiosity burning in his gaze.

"You’re right on time. We were just setting up for a meal."

I sidestep into confession instantly. "We had quite a breakfast earlier." I look at Hawk, unsure why. I usually make all the decisions myself, but here he is, like a shadow and I have this need to know what he thinks. "We’d love to join nonetheless," I add.

She takes us through the hallway, familiar to me. Hawk, on the other hand, is scanning every fraction of it with curiosity, like he’s trying to memorize the space.

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