Page 36 of Take Me to Church
Maybe it wasn’t just the way he looked or what he did that made me so fascinated with him. Maybe it was simply that his existence gave me hope.
Christian has always been different. Even as a little girl I recognized he wasn’t like the other boys—the other men. He didn’t treat me like an object to be possessed. Like I was less. Like I was simply there to serve him and the rest of the population lucky enough to be born with a penis.
He always treated me like I should be protected. Like I was valuable. Like I mattered.
And while so much of him has changed, that hasn’t.
“I won’t ever let anything happen to you, Lydia.” Christian’s face is so close to mine I can feel the warmth of his breath. “I promise.”
“I know.” I lean in a little more, wanting more. Of what, I’m not sure I’m willing to admit. Yet. “You’ve always kept me safe.”
Christian’s mouth hovers over mine, barely a breath away, and the ache in my nipples expands, spreading to lower, just as neglected, parts of my body. I want him to kiss me. Touch me. Show me all the things I’m too scared to discover for myself.
But suddenly Christian’s whole body stiffens. His hands drop away from my skin and he takes a step back.
The separation feels more than merely physical.
My cheeks flame even as the throb in my body intensifies, protesting the loss of contact. I’ve clearly said or done the wrong thing. I’m not sure what exactly, but there’s no denying Christian’s reaction.
“You should go to bed.” His eyes won’t meet mine. “It’s been a long day and we have a lot to do tomorrow.”
I should be thrilled. Relieved Myra will finally be safe. Finally be free. But the disappointment of Christian backing away from me tanks any happiness I try to scrounge up.
“Okay.” I want to ask him what I said or did that was so wrong he pulled away from me, but I can’t make myself do it. So I leave, hugging myself as I go back down the hall to the room he dumped me in earlier. It’s beautiful, and I’m grateful, but his sudden rejection stings.
Maybe I’m still just like a little sister to him. Maybe I’m too young. Maybe I’m still too naïve and sheltered to be the kind of woman he would have any sort of interest in.
I close the door to his room, and this is definitely his room, and strip out of the clothes I’ve been wearing for more hours than I can count. After carefully folding and stacking them on the chair in the corner, I drift into the bathroom to take a quick shower. The room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the house, decked out with a vanity that looks like an antique dresser Christian repurposed, and the most beautiful glass tiles I’ve ever seen. They’re a dark pearly black with swirls of color that conjure images of the universe I didn’t know existed until a year ago.
I quickly scrub down and rinse off, pausing just a second to appreciate how thick and fluffy the towels are before pulling on a fresh pair of panties and my nightshirt. Once I brush my teeth, I turn off the lights and slip under covers that smell just like him.
I jerk upright, startled out of a slumber I don’t remember falling into, confident I heard something.
Rodney’s friends have found me. Or worse, my father is finally coming to drag me back.
My sleep fogged brain begins to panic, my heart racing as I flip back the covers and bolt. I fling open the door and race down the hall toward the only person who has ever truly made me feel safe, rushing into the bedroom Christian is using. I can’t think straight. Can’t process what I should and shouldn’t do. The only thought I have is to hide. To be quiet.
So I slip under the covers beside him, curling close as I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking with fear just like I used to as a little girl.
Only this time I don’t have to be afraid alone.
“Lydia?” Christian’s voice is rough with sleep as he stirs beside me. “What’s wrong?”
I’m quiet for just a second. Long enough for it to register that the sound I heard might not have been as real as I thought. The fear clawing at my skin gives way to embarrassment. “I—” Humiliation clamps my lips together, sealing off the explanation I’m trying to offer.
“Come here.” Christian pulls me close, arms holding me tight as he tucks my body against his. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”
My throat goes tight as I blink away tears that should probably be for the man I watched die today.
They aren’t.
And maybe that makes me just as evil as my father believes I am. Maybe there’s so much sin on my skin that I’ll never be able to wash it away.
The possibility doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. Especially now that I’ve seen what sinners are really like. I’ve never been able to count on anyone the way Christian can obviously count on the men he calls his brothers. They will literally move bodies for him without the link of blood tying them together.
Well…
Maybe they have plenty of blood between them. Spilled instead of shared.
