Page 61 of Take Me to Church
And I want to tell her, but I haven't lived the kind of life a reasonable person wouldn't judge me for.
"I didn't think they would agree with the choices I was making." I want to offer her an explanation, but I also don't want to change the way she looks at me. I know she's seen what I'm capable of first-hand, but situations like that haven't always been as warranted or excusable.
"They wouldn't want you to help abused women?" There's an edge to her voice that tells me I'm not the one she's considering judging, and I don't want her looking at my brothers badly. They've always had my back. They’re good men, and it wasn't the saving women part that concerned me.
"No, but I was concerned they would question my means." Early on, we didn't know what we know now. Over the years we've made a lot of mistakes. Mistakes that resulted in certain, necessary, eliminations.
Lydia holds my gaze. “Then they don’t know what it’s like to be abused.”
I think about the men who were just on my doorstep. Of the lives they’ve led. “They do.”
Lydia gives me a soft smile. “Then maybe you’re not giving them enough credit.” Her fingers brush mine for a scant second before she turns to go to the stairs, stealing the connection I desperately need and changing the subject. “I need to get ready for work.”
I follow behind her, unable to let her get too far away. “You’re working today?” I’m surprised, no, shocked, that she’s awake, let alone planning to take on a shift at The Cellar.
“I have to. I’m on the schedule and since we’re not in Arkansas I don’t feel right calling in or trying to find someone to cover my shift.” She continues up the stairs. “Piper’s off though, so she’ll be here to keep Myra entertained.”
I chase after her, crowding Lydia on the landing. “Do you really think I’m going to stay here while you go out alone?” I catch her by the hand, pulling her body back against mine. “I meant what I said last night, Lydia. You’re mine. It’s my job to protect you. That means for now, I go where you go.” I lean close, sliding my hand down to palm the swell of her ass, pulling her against the rapidly thickening line of my cock. I need to know she’s still in the same place she was last night. I need to hear it from her lips or I’m going to go fucking crazy. Especially now that I might lose my family in the blink of an eye. “Are you regretting your decision yet?”
Her eyes lift to mine, lips parted as her skin flushes a pretty pink. “No.” Her mouth slowly pulls into a small, slightly mischievous smile. “But you might soon.”
23
LYDIA
I HOLD MY breath, ear pressed to the wood door of Christian’s office, eyes closed as I strain to make out the words being said inside.
It's a tactic I should probably be ashamed of, but it was a necessary part of the life I used to live. Women weren't a part of major conversations. We were told it was because we wouldn't understand them anyway, but I always knew it was because they wanted to keep us as in the dark as possible. Knowledge is power, and like every other opportunity to possess some of my own, this too was withheld from me.
Not that I think Christian is necessarily withholding this from me. However, I'm also not confident he’ll share the specifics of it. Specifics I deserve to know since I’m pretty sure I'm the reason he's in that room with nine other men right now.
At least part of the reason.
I haven't been able to hear everything, but the bits and pieces I've been able to make out, along with what I overheard on the porch this morning, are enough to put together what’s happening. The men who filed into Christian’s house one by one as soon as we got back from my shift at The Cellar are upset they weren’t informed about what Christian, Simon, and Tate have been doing. Which is kind of crazy to me since they didn’t seem bothered when we showed up with a dead body.
The voices on the other side of the door quiet and a soft scuffling tells me they’re on the move.
I turn, racing past the stairs and down the main hall into the kitchen, hiding in the shadows as the men file out through the front door one by one, just like they came in. I expect Simon and Tate to linger, but they too head out into the night.
To be fair, they probably didn’t have much left to say to each other.
As promised, Christian went with me to work today, camping out at the same table his friend Damien occupied not so long ago. But he didn't stay alone for long. Soon Tate and Simon joined him and they spent most of the afternoon in a hushed, serious-looking conversation.
Yet another one I can't help but feel I had a part in causing.
The house goes quiet, and I lean just enough so I can peek around the edge of the wall. Christian is still standing at the door, his back to me, shoulders slumped. He looks defeated. Broken down in a way that makes me think maybe I didn't pick up as much of the conversation in his office as I thought.
Sure, his brothers seemed upset, but more disappointed than anything. I know what yelling sounds like, even through a door, and no one yelled during their conversation. Voices stayed calm and even.
He starts to turn and I quickly tuck myself back into the darkness of the kitchen, holding my breath.
"Lydia. I know you're there."
I cringe in the darkness, skin heating with shame and guilt. Slowly, I step from the shadows, worrying my lower lip between my teeth as I wait for him to reprimand me. To show his anger.
Instead Christian holds one hand out. "Come on."
I blink, not sure how to react. I was ready to spit out an apology, but instead find myself silently walking down the hall, bare feet barely a whisper across the hardwood. When I'm close enough I reach out, letting him take my hand in his, still unsure how this will play out.
