Page 32 of Sinner (Priest 2)
A few minutes later, I’m changed into different pants and a fresh shirt, cum wiped off the concrete floor, and I’m sitting in my home office, staring blankly at my bookshelves, which are about half the kind of businessy crap you see popping up on the non-fiction bestsellers’ lists and about half historical romance novels, categorized by subgenre (Regency, Victorian, American West) and then shelved alphabetically by author.
Oh, and I called my brother. Because I’m currently freaking the fuck out, and he’s the only person in my life that I trust to give me any kind of advice when it comes to clerical vocations and sex.
I can practically hear Tyler relax after I tell him Mom’s not back in the hospital. “What is it then?” he asks. “I know you wouldn’t call unless there’s something dire going on.”
It’s true, for better or for worse, and I’m not sure why. I like Tyler, but he’s never needed me the way that Aiden and Ryan do…the way that Lizzy did before she killed herself. And so I’ve gotten into the habit of being the de facto caretaker of the Bell boys—making sure Aiden gets some sleep occasionally, helping Ryan enroll in college classes and hunt for apartments, reminding them both to visit and call Mom—but Tyler’s exempt from my bossiness. When I trust and respect someone, when I value their time and their judgment, I’m more than content to let weeks go by without talking, because I know they’ll be just fine without me. Tyler falls into that category. Flaky, impulsive Aiden probably never will.
“Well, it’s a little embarrassing to ask,” I admit, “but I need advice. Uh. About a woman.”
“Do I need to remind you about that time I was a priest?” Tyler asks dryly. “I’m probably not the best person for dating advice.”
I stand up, feeling fidgety. “Well, she’s Catholic.”
“That’s hardly an alien race to us, Sean. In fact, I think Mom still has your ‘Best in Old Testament Trivia’ award from Vacation Bible School somewhere.”
That sends an automatic scowl to my mouth. I don’t like thinking about that boy, the one I used to be, the one who believed in God and spent Vacation Bible School gluing Popsicle sticks together and teaming up with Elijah to tease Lizzy and her friends on the church playground. And for the first time, I realize—like really, fully realize—that spending time with Zenny means that I’m going to have to remember that boy. If I’m going to coax Zenny into the land of doubt, I’m going to have to remember why I ever occupied the land of belief.
“Is she some kind of weird Catholic?” Tyler asks. “Like one of those pre-Vatican II people?”
“I’m annoyed I still know what that means,” I sigh. “And no, she’s fine with Mass in English and all that—at least I think so. More like, she wants to be a nun.”
I blurt it before I can hesitate any longer, but the awkward silence that ensues makes me wish I hadn’t said it at all. “You know what, never mind. I—”
“Sean,” Tyler interrupts, and I hear him walking into another room. A door closing. “I need to know before we go any further if you’re exaggerating. Be serious for once.”
I run my fingertip along a line of Sarah MacLean paperbacks. “I’m not exaggerating. She becomes a novice in a month.”
A long, long sigh from the other end of the line. “What have you done?”
“Look, I haven’t done anything—”
“Sure.”
“I swear. It’s more like…I need to make sure that I keep not doing anything. Or if I do something, that it’s the right something.”
I’m only asking for a month.
I’m not asking for anything you don’t want to give.
I’m asking you because you’re the only person I trust to help me.
I scrub my fingertips through my hair, trying to gather my thoughts. My feelings. My wayward cock cravings.
“So you’ve met a girl,” Tyler prompts after I don’t speak for a bit. “Met a nun, I mean.”
“Well, the word met,” I say, turning to lean against the bookshelf and stare at a wall lined with diplomas and academic awards. “That implies we didn’t know each other before.”
“Sean.”
Just tell him.
“It’s Elijah’s sister,” I force out.
“Zenny? But she’s only—”
“She’s not a kid anymore, Tyler. She just turned twenty-one, it’s her senior year of college. And before you ask, no, Mom and Dad haven’t
reconnected with the Iversons.”
