Still, I wrapped my arms around her from behind and pulled her back against my chest. Buried my nose in her damp hair smelling of flowery shampoo.
I started chantingGloriain Latin, praising God and thanking Him for His great glory. Harley’s sobbing grew quieter, then ceased. I continued with the next chant, then the next, until her breathing slowed. It felt like the Holy Spirit’s serenity flooded the small room, driving out all darkness.
Only once I was certain Harley was asleep, I stopped. I lay there, relishing the feeling of her in my arms. The nearness. The warmth radiating from her body. I hadn’t even been aware that I’d yearned for this, but my soul downright gorged on it.
This is wrong, and you know it.I wasn’t supposed to be in bed with a woman, no matter the reason. No matter if she needed me, or I needed her.
I wasn’t an idiot. Knew exactly how this worked. It started with innocent and sweet interactions, then they became physical. I couldn’t afford that. Three months until I became a priest. Three months. And even the smallest misstep could mean the end of what I’d worked so hard for over the past years. And that wasn’t the worst part. I had promised in front of God and my brothers my conversion of morals. Made a writtenstatement. The Rule of St. Benedict said if I broke my promise, I would be condemned by God for mocking Him.
I swallowed hard.Father, protect me from going down that road. I could never forgive myself if I failed You like that. How can I help Harley without crossing any lines?
That question kept spinning in my pounding head as I slowly drifted off to sleep. Her ex was still out for her blood and would keep coming for her. This charade couldn’t go on—I had to find a way to end it.
Maybe it was time to give Rome a call after all.
Chapter 11
Harley
“What do you mean, you slept with a monk?” Bella’s blue eyes nearly popped out of her pretty head as she stared at me.
We were hanging out in the bathroom of Coco’s 1920s Craftsman-style home, Bella sitting on the edge of the bathtub, legs crossed, posture regal. The peach silk dress she wore highlighted her tan, her blonde waves spilling over her bare shoulders. What others donned for a nice dinner was casual attire for Bella. She came from a wealthy family and didn’t hide it.
“I didn’t sleep with him.” I returned my focus to my blood-splattered T-shirt. Hopefully this stain remover would work just as Coco had promised. I sprayed some on the gray fabric. “We slept in the same bed. Big difference.”
Or maybe not so big, because it had been a twin bed, and I’d been cocooned in his strong arms, my back pressed against his solid torso the entire night. At least that’s what I guessed, because when Kingsley had woken me up the next morning for Vigils, he’d been squatting next to the bed instead of lying in it.So maybe he’d returned to his spot outside the guesthouse right after I’d fallen asleep.
“Why would you share a bed with a monk?” Coco stuffed the rest of my clothes into the washer in her usual brusque fashion. Unlike Bella, she wore ripped jeans and a white T-shirt, part of her shoulder-length raven curls tied into a bun at the back of her head.
“I had a panic attack and he calmed me down.”
“I wasn’t aware you had panic attacks,” Noa Rose came over the phone we’d propped up on the sink. The three-story concrete building of the Darkwater Refuge Police Department rose into the darkening evening sky behind her. The usual compassion in her tone made me nearly cry. Five days had passed since that nightmare, and it still haunted me.
“It was a first. I’ve never had this happen to me before.”
Coco poured a generous amount of detergent into the washer. “What triggered it?”
“A nightmare. Craig grabbed me by the throat so hard my feet lost contact to the floor. His face was . . . contorted.” A shudder seized my body. “Almost demonic.”
Bella’s perfectly plucked eyebrows drew together. “What a horrific dream. Wait, has Craig ever hurt you?”
Er . . . He’d chased me, run us off the road, and attacked Kingsley—all because I’d witnessed him kill two men in cold blood.
But I couldn’t tell them that. Not with Noa Rose literally sitting on the steps outside the DRPD. She was working towards becoming a parole officer and maybe had connections to other crooked LEOs without her knowledge.
“No, he’s never hurt me.” Not a lie, strictly speaking. He’d never actually laid a hand on me.
“And the monk was there and calmed you down?” Coco gestured for me to hand the T-shirt over.
I tossed it to her. “Yes. He was guarding the guesthouse I was staying in. He must’ve heard me scream or something.” I threw up a hand. “Look, I know this is all sorts of wrong, but I was so ensnared by that panic attack that I clung to him like a drowning woman. And then he climbed into bed to hold me. And he . . . chanted until I fell asleep.”
Lord have mercy, the man’s voice. It was deep and rich and soothing and stirring alike. I could listen to him chant for hours on end.
Coco got the washer going, and though her back was turned to me, I knew she was sharing a look with Bella.
“What?” I asked.
Bella heaved a sigh. “We’re worried about you. You’re taking time off work and retreat to that monastery for no reason. You hardly texted us over the past week. And then you show up with a puffy nose. What’s going on, Harry?”