Page 37 of The Reaper

“A little. Nothing a cup of coffee can’t fix,” I said. At this point, someone might as well inject caffeine directly into my veins.

“Oh, you want me to make you a pot?” Jessica rose to her feet, but I raised my hand, stopping her.

“No, it’s okay,” I said.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure. It’s probably not a good idea to have another this late.” There was still light outside, but the sun was on its way down. One advantage of keeping busy was it kept me from obsessing about those images, and a certain man tattooed in my mind. I wondered where he’d been. It’d been a few days since I’d seen him.

The church door opened and a man entered wearing a black hoodie and black jeans. He marched past us, stopping in front of the confession booth. He didn’t say a word, nor did he acknowledge us.

My heart stopped. Excitement filled me, but I kept my exhilaration at bay, maintaining a neutral expression. Even with the hoodie obscuring his face, I knew who it was.

“Confession ended hours ago, sir,” Jessica said, shutting her mahogany leather-bound notebook.

Archer glanced to his side before yanking the curtain open.

“Sir,” Jessica repeated.

“You know what, it’s okay.” I stood, heading toward the booth. “I don’t mind. Why don’t you go home, I’ll take care of this.”

“Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Jessica nodded. Once I was sure she was gone, I entered the booth.

Archer’s cologne made my stomach flutter with excitement. The intensity of his gaze burned. Fearing he could see right through me, I broke eye contact and sat down. There was something about him that made me question everything I knew about myself.

“Father, I have sinned,” he said.

I cleared my throat. “What has brought you here, my child?”

Archer chuckled, but surprised me by answering, “It’s been a couple of weeks since my last confession—but you already know that,” he said, leaning back with one hand in his pocket while the other rested on the back of the bench.

Memories of the night we shared came in droves, forcing me to look away. I’d never been fascinated by anyone the way I was by Archer. He wasn’t the type of man I imagined when I pleasured myself. It wasn’t often that I let weakness overtake me, but occasionally I did. I was a priest, not a saint, after all.

“What’s the matter, Father?” Archer asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

I grabbed the Bible resting on a small shelf, flipping the thin gilt pages with my shaky hands. I took a deep breath before reciting a verse I picked at random.

The sound of a belt buckle clanged, and when I looked at him, he was slowly undoing his belt, eyes still on mine. “What are you doing?” I asked, hoping that my voice wasn’t as rattled as I felt inside. “This is the house of God.”

“I can take you to heaven if you want … again. Just say the word, Father,” he said.

“What happened was a mistake,” I whispered, on the off chance someone was lurking within earshot.

“You seemed to enjoy it, according to my recollection.” He bit his lower lip, winking.

“That’s not the point. The point is it can’t happen again.”

“If you say so, Father.”

I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “What brings you here?”

“To confess my sins.”

“Let’s hear it.”

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