Page 40 of Priest

I nod with a little too much enthusiasm. “I’m sure. I don’t want to be a burden.”

He frowns. “You’re not, and once Father Dan’s back we can make some real plans, alright?”

I don’t want to work anything out with Dan. I want Priest to work it out. I swallow my pride. “I need to get to Texas, remember?”

He studies me as he rubs his chin. “What’s so urgent that you need to go to Texas as soon as tomorrow? You said you have no family you’d ever want to see again.”

So he does remember.

How much should I tell him? What do I even know about the box?

I clear my throat. “My nonna left me something, and I need to get it back.”

He continues to look at me in a way that makes me want to tell him everything. Not just about the locked box, but about everything that’s happened to me.

“And it’s important to me,” I add, looking away. If I look at him for any longer, I’m going to spill the beans. I may trust Priest implicitly, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to divulge every single thing just because my gut tells me I should.

“Then I’ll drive you, if you agree to come back with me.”

My mouth hangs open as I try to gather myself.

Priest will take me?

My mind reels. I’ll be able to go to the address and not have the fear of anyone robbing me or worse. He’ll be there to drive me, and make sure I come back. Not that I should be coming back. Not to New Orleans. Not to where my family can still find me. It isn’t smart. But now that I’m here, in Priest’s home, I can’t say that I really want to leave.

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t. I offered.”

“And the deal is I’d have to come back?”

“Yes. Because I can help you here, I can’t help much if you’re in another state.”

I should tell him I don’t need his help, that would be the smart thing to do. I should use him for a ride, and then split. Then I owe nothing to nobody. But deep down that’s not who I am. That’s not how my nonna raised me. I’m not cold and calculating like the rest of my family, and I don’t use people. Priest has been good to me, to do that to him would be horrible. Plus, he’s the only man I’ve found any goodness in for a long time.

“Breathe, little one,” he says when my eyes snap to meet his.

I didn’t realize that I was holding my breath, but like most things with Priest he gets to the nitty gritty pretty quickly.

My heart races in my chest at the idea I’d come back here. I mean, I can’t stay here forever. But then again, it isn’t as if my family are out looking for me.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll come back.”

Something crosses his face and I’ve no idea what it is or what he’s thinking. “Good. Casey will be here soon. Eat. You need to keep your strength up.”

I get a thrill running through me when he tells me what to do. Especially when it’s something for myself; it’s like he really does care for my welfare.

I have lost a lot of weight this last month, though getting food at the shelter and at the Soup Kitchen has helped save me from starving. Not that the food at the shelter is anything to write home about, but it’s better than going hungry.

“So how long have you known Father Dan?” I ask, wanting to change the subject off me.

Priest still stands on the other side of the island, both hands planted on the counter as I unwrap my burger. It smells amazing. I can’t even remember the last time I ate something so indulgent.

“We went to middle school together,” Priest replies. “He was a good Catholic boy and I was a tear away, but somehow we formed an unlikely bond. Dan’s always been a good guy. He saw the good in me way back when, even before I was at rock bottom.”

“Where was your dad when you were growing up?” I ask. “You mentioned you recently reconnected with him.”

He waits until I take a bite, chewing silently, and then answers. “He never knew I existed, and my mom told me he was dead.”

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