Page 4 of Unholy Obsession

Since there’s no one in line behind me, he leads me back to a pew. I follow, feeling a little light-headed.

I sit down beside him, suddenly hyper-conscious of how close my knee is to his knee.

I take a shuddering breath and curl my fingers against the wood of the pew underneath me, trying to focus on anything besides his overwhelming masculine energy.

“I’ve done things,” I blurt out, not sure how to start. My voice trembles, but if this priest is willing to listen, I’ll tell him everything. Maybe if I just say it all out loud, I can be free of it? “Things I’m not proud of. Things I can’t take back.”

The admission hangs in the air between us, raw and heavy.

He closes his eyes as if he knows this is only the first admission of many. I let go of the pew and twist my fists in the fabric of my jacket.

“I hurt people,” I say, voice shaky. “I mean, not like I punched anyone or anything. But I’ve used people. And let them use me, too. Then, the people I actually care about, I push away. I betrayed my family. And now…” I trail off as I look at the floor. I decide, since this is my one chance to be honest with myself and God, to tell the truth.

“Now I don’t even know if I can care about anyone. I don’t know if I want to. It hurts toobad.” My throat clogs on the last word. “Everything hurts.”

I can’t look up at the Father. Even though I want to see his reaction, I’m not sure I could handle it.

I take another breath, this one fractured and shallow. “I thought… I thought if I kept moving, I could outrun the mess I made of my life. But it’s still here.”

I press a hand to my chest, fingers curling into my ribs. “It’s always here. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t even know if I’m worth saving.”

“Youare,” the priest responds immediately, deep voice fervent.

“How can you say that?” I look up in surprise. “You don’t even know me.”

He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple move in his throat. “Because redemption doesn’t come from doing things perfectly. It comes from thefight. From choosing to believe you’re worth saving, even when it feels impossible.”

But Ihavebeen fighting. And now, there’s no fight left in me. My shoulders sag, and the faintest sob escapes before I press a hand to my mouth as if I can shove the sound back down.

“It’s alright. It’s going to be alright. . .” His voice is so gentle and so without the pity people usually talk to me with. The way he’s sitting, it’s like he’s barely holding himself back from reaching out to me.

I wish he would. I want to wrap my arms around his neck and listen to the heart beating in his solid chest. Like the good part after sex.

I wince back and shake my head, dropping my hand only long enough to suck in a breath and whisper, “I don’t know how to fight anymore.”

The compassion carves even deeper in his brow as he inches slightly toward me on the bench, reaching out a hand before yanking it back and fisting at his sides.

His words are still vehement as he says, “You don’t have to fight alone. You aren’t alone.”

My breath catches. Does he meanhe’llhelp me? That he’ll… that he’ll be there for me and somehow help me find a path even though I can’t see any way forward?

But as my eyes search his, I realize how ridiculous I’m being.No, you idiot, he’s talking aboutGod. He’s saying God will be with me.

All my hope deflates.

No offense, but God let my brother be tortured by his childhood sweetheart’s father while they were both just kids, so I doubt He’ll be intervening to help the likes of me anytime soon… Especially since I’m the one who brought that evil man back into their lives after they’d escaped him.

I don’tdeservemy brother’s forgiveness. Much less God’s.

I swipe at my eyes and nose with my forearm and push to my feet, the movements stiff and jerky.

“I— I should go,” I stammer.

“Wait—”

“No. I can’t—this was a mistake.”

I turn and rush for the door before I do something stupid, like let the handsome priest stop me. I just know, with salt in my mouth from my tears, that I’ve got to get the hell out of this holy place.

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