Page 88 of Beneath His Robes

And that was the thing—the hardest part of it all. I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to pull away, to hide, to tell him that it could never be anything more than a fleeting moment. No. I wanted him—more than I ever thought possible.

It wasn’t right, but it was my truth.

I opened my eyes again, my gaze drifting toward the stained glass window that cast multicolored light across the floor. The church had always been my sanctuary, my place of solace and prayer. But today, it felt different. Today, it felt like a prison.

I had tried to live my life by the vows I’d taken, tried to walk the path of righteousness. But every time I looked at Ronan and touched him, I was reminded of how easily I had strayed from that path.

Was I doomed to live with this guilt forever? To carry this weight on my shoulders, knowing that I had betrayed everything I had worked for and stood for? Or was it something more complicated than that?

Was there truly any possible way to have both?

The man and the God I love.

The truth was, I couldn’t make sense of any of it. I didn’t know what was right and what was wrong anymore. All I knew was that everything else disappeared when Ronan was near me. And the guilt, the overwhelming sense of shame all faded into the background like white noise.

But once he left, once the space between us grew, the reality of it all came crashing back. I let myself falter when his world became so broken. I let myself fall with him to hold him up so he wasn’t alone. But in doing so, I had lost myself in him. Lost my purpose.

I wanted to apologize. To tell him I was sorry for everything, for how I’d hurt him, for how I’d let myself fall into this. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t say it, couldn’t make him believe me. I had to protect him from the truth, from the burden of what we had done. The burden was something that I didn’t regret, but I couldn’t allow myself truly to accept it either.

He deserved so much better than me.

I heard the sound of water running in the next room, and it made my chest tighten. I couldn’t bear to look at him right now. Couldn’t watch our sins wash down the drain of my place of worship. Not while the weight of my own was still so fresh, so raw. Not while I was still battling with myself over what we had done.

Despite it all, guilt, shame, and confusion, I couldn’t help but wonder if this—what we shared—wasn’t a sin because of the love we shared. God wanted us all to love one another as we love him. Ronan was truly the only man in the world for whom I felt such adoration and affection. But where I was meant for reverence to my Savior…

It was Ronan I wanted to drop to my knees for and worship, and that terrified me.

I sat in the silence of the church, fingers still gripping the edge of the pew, my thoughts swirling. The weight of the guilt hadn’t gone away—it was like a fog I couldn’t shake, thick and suffocating.

The flicker of candlelight near the altar seemed to mock me, its gentle glow doing nothing to ease the confusion gnawing at me. I could almost hear the echoes of the vows I had taken, promises to live a life of purity, to guide others in faith, and to uphold the sanctity of the church in the house of God.

But what did that mean now? After everything that had happened?

I couldn’t even pray.

The words wouldn’t come.

They felt empty, hollow.

How could I ask for forgiveness when I didn’t even know what I needed to be forgiven for?

Was I wrong to have wanted him?

Was I wrong for ever loving him? So much of our scripture was left for interpretation. How was I meant to unravel the meanings of this?

I wanted to believe it was okay, that it was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment, but one I could accept. That everything could go back to how it was when I held Ronan’s hand in the hospital.

But I knew better.

The way he had looked at me, the way he had kissed me, the way we fucked—it was too real. It was too raw to dismiss. And now, every time I closed my eyes, I could feel the heat of his body against mine, the warmth of his skin, the desperate way we had come undone together.

God help me. I didn’t want to let it go.

The sound of water running from the back of the church broke my reverie, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. Ronan was cleaning up, no doubt still processing what had happened himself. I could only imagine the confusion that must be flooding through him, too, the clash of emotions that came from his trauma and my back and forth in the way I handled this.

I felt awful.

I didn’t want to think I didn’t love him or that I didn’t absolutely love everything he did to me in that car.

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