Page 33 of Take Me to Church
I return her nod. “A very good thing.”
King’s death brought my brothers and me a level of freedom we never expected to have. It broke so many of the ties restricting us, making it possible to build a new life on a fresh foundation. One we created ourselves.
Lydia watches me a second longer, her lower lip pinching between her teeth. “Did you kill him?” Her tone isn’t accusatory, simply curious.
It’s unexpected.
“No.” I shake my head. “His daughter did.”
Lydia presses her lips tight together, flattening them out, her eyes dropping between us. “Will you think badly of me if I say I don’t blame her?”
My head tips back in surprise. “No.” Her question catches me a little off guard initially, but the longer it sinks in, the more I get where she’s coming from. “I know most people wouldn’t understand how you feel about your father, but I do.”
Lydia shakes her head at me, her smile sad. “No you don’t.” She sighs, looking sad. “I know we lived in the same world, but being a man in that world and being a woman in that world are two completely different things.”
I don’t know what to say because it’s true. I may have been thrown out for speaking out against the fucked-up way they were, but no one there ever told me what to wear. What to say. How to behave. If anything, I was raised to believe I was above just about everyone else in the world. Holier. A chosen one.
I was raised to believe I would be in charge of everything in my own life, but also the life of the family I would be the head of. I would decide where we lived. Where we went and what we did.
Lydia was raised believing she was less than me, less than any man. They don’t come right out and say that, of course. They have a carefully curated dialogue to hide the truth of what they think. Calling a sweet and submissive woman a precious and priceless gift from God. Saying she was gifted to be a blessing to those around her. Offering whatever bullshit they believe will make women like Lydia and Myra shut up and be grateful for the lot they’ve been given.
“I’m glad you got away.” I start to reach for her but stop. I scrubbed my hands at the warehouse, but I’m not clean enough to touch her.
I might never be.
The realization backs me up a step, moving my feet toward the door. “I know you’re tired. I’ll let you get settled in.” I pause, giving Lydia one last look. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.” I duck out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind me and taking a deep breath.
I wish I could say I didn’t know exactly what I was doing when I brought Lydia here, but I did. I wanted to keep her close. I wanted to know she was safe. That she was taken care of.
I also liked the idea of her being exactly where she’s about to be. In my bed.
Knowing Lydia’s soft body is about to be curled against my sheets sends my feet down the hall, putting as much distance between us as possible. I thought I could handle having her here, but maybe I can’t. I expected having her close to me would be enough. Knowing she was safe would soothe the uncomfortable feeling I’ve been struggling to rectify, but it’s only getting worse.
Because she’s still not close enough. I want more.
I want her.
Not just in my bed. Not just under my body.
Not just in my home.
I want her to be mine. And I want it with an intensity that takes me by complete surprise.
So I don’t stop moving as I pass into the spare bedroom, rounding the large bed and heading for the bathroom. I need a shower and I need sleep. Something to hit the reset button and get my brain back on the right track. A track that’s focused on keeping Lydia safe instead of getting her into my bed. Into my life.
I strip off my clothes, chucking them in the trash can instead of the laundry hamper. Tomorrow I’ll leave them in a dumpster somewhere on the other side of town, along with anything else that might connect me to Rodney. Tonight was a messy night, so even the shirt Damien brought me is ruined.
I switch on the shower and climb under the spray before it has a chance to heat up, ignoring the cold sting of the water against my skin as I scrub away the remnants of what should be the worst day I’ve had in a long fucking time. I’ve put my whole family in danger. Dragged us back into the life we worked so hard to get out of.
And the fucked-up thing is, I would do it all over again. Even after fifteen years, the need to keep Lydia safe is impossible to ignore.
Maybe worse.
Before I was simply a kid trying to protect another kid—my best friend’s little sister. Someone too small to take care of themselves. My motives are no longer the same. And as much as I want to continue trying to deny it, I can’t.
Maybe it’s desperation after seeing my brothers so goddamned happy and wanting it for myself. Maybe it’s because Lydia’s the only spark of happiness I remember in my past. Or maybe it’s because of who she’s become. The strength I know it took for her to walk away and start over. The determination I see when she talks about saving Myra. The sweetness she still retains, even after everything she’s been through.
Whatever it is, I no longer look at Lydia as a little girl. Haven’t since she showed up on my front porch, all grown up and everything I always hoped she would become. And now I want her for myself. I want to be the one she looks to for protection. For safety.
