Page 6 of Hotter 'N Hell

They could track me. All of them. Any woman in the family had a tracker on her at all times. More than one, in fact. A phone could be taken from you, and that wasn’t enough security.

“So, this is with a therapist?” he asked me.

I shook my head. Father Jude was definitely not a therapist. “No. It’s kinda like AA for those who have lost someone. I know I have more than that to deal with, but I thought it might be helpful.”

He was quiet for a moment. I knew he was being careful with his response.

“Do you, uh, want me to go with you?”

No, I did not. He’d get one look at the priest and know exactly why I was there. The last thing I needed was for him to go telling my father that I was lusting after a man of the cloth. That would go over just great.

“I need to do this on my own. But thank you. I’m ready to heal, move on, find my new path in life, and I can’t keep leaning onyou. Or anyone.”

Gathe blew out a breath. “All right. Yeah, I get that. I mean, I’m glad you are there. But I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this.”

But I was. It was my life. Not his. I was alone in it, and I had to handle it that way.

“Thanks. I know you’re always there. I just want to do it myself.”

He nodded with a solemn look on his face. I knew he was thinking if he should argue with me or not. He had dropped everything for me these past ten months. I loved him for it, but it was time I closed that door. Set him free.

“If you get there and they’re weirdos or some shit, call me. I’ll come after you.”

I laughed. “I’ll have my car.”

His brows drew together. “You’re driving alone? Why not have someone drive you?”

My father had several men he used as drivers and protection, which he needed since he had been the head of the Mississippi branch before his Parkinson’s got too bad.

“I’ll be fine. Where I am going is safe.”

“Where is it?”

“Holy Rosary,” I replied since he could check for himself tonight easily enough on his phone.

“What the fuck is that?”

I laughed. “The Catholic church in town. The one across the street from Vapiano,” I told him.

Vapiano was our favorite Italian restaurant.

“You’re going to a Catholic church? Don’t they have Mass on Saturday nights? Won’t they try to pray for you or something?”

“It’s just a meeting. Open to the public. Not a Mass.”

He looked at me with uncertainty, then shrugged. “All right. If that is what you think will help.”

It wasn’t. Not really. But seeing as how I was twenty-one years old with no friends outside this bubble I lived in and I wasn’t in college, where else was I going to interact with other people? I had considered going to college. Maybe moving somewhere else. But the fact was, I hated school. The thought of having to sit in classes again made me want to run and hide.

“It won’t hurt to go give it a try,” I told him.

He smirked. “Yeah, well, when they bore you to death, come over to the house. Everyone wants to see you.”

That would not be happening. Even if I hated this meeting and left minutes after arriving, I’d just binge a show and try something else tomorrow.

Three

Saylor

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