Lust Is the Thorn (6 page)

I did
not
need to know that. “Right,” I said, my voice thick with unanswered need. “Of course you do.”

She tugged the towel closed, all bright blue eyes, wet brown hair, and piercings. “Are we cool?”

“Yeah. We're cool.”

“Good.” She stepped over the side of the dirty white tub and headed for the door. “I'm going to find my bag, grab some clothes, and get dressed. Thanks for the, uh, bath.”

Despite her words and her devil-may-care attitude, I sensed she was putting on an act. That what happened between us wasn't something she could just sweep under the rug. It certainly wasn't for
me
. “Yeah, I'm going to finish up in here.”

Her focus drifted down to my still rock-hard erection. “Need any help?”

“Rose.”

“Right. Sorry. Inappropriate.” She blushed and cleared her throat. “I'll go now and leave you to…well, you know. Clean up.”

The door shut behind her and I sagged against the wall. My clothes were wet and cold, but it didn't cool me off. Nothing would. Trembling, I dried off my hands and reached for my phone. Swiping my finger across the screen, I frowned down at it. The missed call had been from Father John. I hit the callback button and lifted the phone to my ear. He picked up on the second ring.

“Father? It's me, Thorn.”

“Ah, yes.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry if I interrupted anything, but I was just calling to let you know there's a wine cellar in the basement. Feel free to help yourselves to whatever you'd like. I don't touch the stuff when I'm home.”

“Thank you.” I glared at myself in the mirror. I was…haggard. Harder. Different. Like the boy I used to be. The one who didn't give a damn about anyone but himself. “That's very kind of you, Father.”

“How's Rose?” he asked slowly.

“Good. Great. Awesome. She's getting changed now.”

“I see.” He paused. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Of course. I just—” I dragged a hand through my hair, still glowering at myself in the mirror. There was no point in hiding it. I would have to tell him eventually. “I had a moment of weakness, is all.”

“Ah.” A squeaking sound came through the phone. I could picture Father John leaning back in his chair as clearly as if I were sitting there in front of him. “You and Rose have a lot of history together. Correct?”

I rubbed my jaw. “Yes. A lot.”

“Well, it's only natural that such things would occur. That's why we encourage seminarians to stay close to campus. When you take two people who care about each other and put them together, old feelings are bound to get stirred up.”

“I…yeah. I guess so.”

“You know where I am if you need to confess, or guidance of any sort.” He hesitated. “Did the two of you…?”

“No. But it was close.” I dropped back against the wall. “I'm sorry, Father.”

“Don't apologize to me.” He let out a breath, and the chair squeaked again. “You haven't taken your vows yet, even though you
could
. I think we both know what's holding you back.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah. You might be right.”

“Take some time to think things over. Figure out what you want. Rushing into something, one way or the other, will do no good for you, or the church, or your Rose. If this isn't something you're one hundred percent committed to, it's not the life for you, and that's okay. Plenty of candidates change their minds before taking any vows. It's better now than later, as we always say. At least you graduated with a degree you can use.”

“But I know what I want.” I gritted my teeth. I'd made promises I wouldn't break, and I couldn't stop now. My path was carved out for me, and had been since I'd killed my best friend with my careless selfishness. “I've worked for it for years. I've planned on—”

“The funny thing about plans? Sometimes they're simply detours to get us where we need to be. Where God wants us to be.” He let out a small laugh. “I'd know that better than most.”

I blinked. “Did you have a hard time committing, too?”

“No. But you see, son, I've never been in love. Not the type of love that bonds a man and a woman together.” He sighed. “That's not something I even remotely understand. Love is another type of holy blessing, one not to be taken lightly.”

I stiffened. “I don't love her. Romantically, I mean. She's just…I just…we're close. That's all.”

“Call it what you'd like, I'm not here to judge you. And if you don't love her, your path should be pretty clear.”

“It is. I know what I want.”

“Great. I'm glad to hear it. But still…use this opportunity to be sure. You don't want to have regrets for the rest of your life. That's no way to start your life with God.”

“I know. That's why I tried to tell her the truth about that night.”

Father John whistled through his teeth. “Tried?”

“Yeah. She cut me off and told me to shut up.” I rubbed my forehead. “But I need to tell her. I think that's what's holding me back. My need for her to know, and my desire for her forgiveness.”

“Son…” Father sighed. “I hope she will give it. Keep in mind, when you tell her you were the one behind the wheel that night, and not her brother…she might hate you. Even if it's just for a little bit. But anger is natural….She might come around, in time. She might understand.”

No, she wouldn't. And that was okay. I didn't deserve forgiveness. If she hated me like I hated myself, maybe I could move on. Maybe after being honest with her, even
without
her forgiveness, I could accept the next step in my life: saving the lives of others like me, finding the lost souls that called for help. “I know. But it needs to be done.”

“The truth is always freeing, even if it hurts at first.” He cleared his throat. “Oh, and about that position you inquired about? I contacted the office manager and should hear back soon. I'll let you know once I do.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“Anytime, son.” I heard a muffled sound, and him speaking to someone. Within seconds, he was back on the line. “I have to go. But like I said, I'm here for you if you need absolution, or an advisor, or just someone to talk to afterward.”

I nodded once. “Thanks.”

We hung up, and I stripped my clothes off and turned the shower on. As I stood under the water, letting the liquid wash away all traces of Rose and what we'd done, the night I'd decided to become a priest replayed in my mind. The alcohol we drank. The drugs we smoked, before Mikey passed out. The hot-wired car. The screeching tires.

The blood…

There had been
so much blood
.

Mikey had died in my arms, and that night, I swore to change my life. To do better. To never hurt another person like I hurt him. No matter what happened, I couldn't waver from my course. I couldn't give in to my needs and be selfish. I'd been that guy before, and I'd killed my best friend. I wouldn't ruin his little sister, too, and do his memory even more of an injustice. I wouldn't drag her down into hell with me.

That was a trip for me, and me alone.

“Are you for real?” my friend screeched into the phone.

I flinched and laughed lightly. “Yeah, I'm really at a fancy lake house—no, scratch that. Fancy lake
mansion
.” I rolled onto my back on the bed, staring up at the painted ceiling. It was light blue. “That's where my friend took me.”

“The priest?”

I sighed. “The almost-priest.”

“Right.” Grace laughed. “Same thing.”

But it wasn't. If Thorn were an actual priest, what we'd done in the bath would never have happened, thank you very much. Even
I
had to draw the line somewhere. “Could I ask you a favor?”

“Sure. What's up?”

“You still have a storage unit, right?” I played with a piece of my hair. “For when you get out of Kitty Kat's?”

“Yeah.” Grace laughed lightly, but there was a hard edge to it. “As if that's ever going to happen.”

“It will,” I said, my tone even. “You'll be out soon.”

“Not everyone can be beaten up and swept away by a priest, Rose.”

I stiffened. “You make it sound like a good thing.”

“It's not. But at the same time…” Grace sighed again. “It got you out, and into a fancy lake house, didn't it?”

I swallowed and glanced at the opulent room that surrounded me. “Has he been back? That guy?”

“Yeah. He's been spotted hanging around outside, since he knows he'll be busted if he comes inside, and we've called the cops on him, but he always slinks away like the snake he is. We think he's looking for you.”

I sat up, my heart lurching. “He doesn't know my name or anything, right?”

“Of course not.” Grace clucked her tongue. “We'd never tell him that, and you know it.”

“Right,” I said weakly. Even though I didn't want to be scared of that asshole…I was. And I didn't like that. “Thanks.”

“So what's your favor?”

I pushed my hair out of my face. It had taken me fifteen minutes to get all the knots out. “I'm sure they're going to give my room away, since I'm gone, so I was wondering—”

“They already gave it away. It was gone within ten hours, and the new girl's a major bitch.” She snorted daintily. “But don't worry, I got you. Your stuff is in my storage unit. Manny helped me transport it early this morning.”

I closed my eyes in relief. I didn't have much, but what I had, I didn't want to lose. “Thanks, Grace. I really appreciate that. I can pay half the bill for this month.”

“Don't worry about it. You just focus on getting better.”

“Thanks, Grace.” I smiled. “But I insist on paying half. It's the least I can do.”

“You have money?”

I flinched. “I will.”

“Fine, then if you insist, pay me back later. After you have it.” A rustling sound hit the phone as Grace said something to someone else, then pulled the phone back. “Look, I have to go. But stay safe, and watch out for that asshole.”

“I will.” I bit my lip. “You be careful, too.”

“Always.”

The call ended, and I stared down at the phone. I couldn't help but worry that what had happened to me could just as easily happen to them. If only I could wrap all the girls in my arms and drag them away. Bring them here.

To safety.

But I couldn't, because life doesn't work that way.

Sighing, I tossed my phone on the bed and tiptoed down the stairs, dressed in the unsexiest clothing I owned, and pressed a hand to my chest. I ached to open up that pack of smokes I had snuck into my bag and take just one puff. After that orgasm, and the way Thorn had acted afterward…God, I needed it. So badly. What we'd done had been exhilarating. After that man assaulted me last night and tried to force himself on me, I'd felt so powerless. Being with Thorn had given me back my sense of control.

I was
me
again. It had been exactly what I needed….

Even if
he
regretted it.

That's something I will never understand. Regretting something. What is the point? What good does it do? My life wasn't all that great. If you had to rate it on a scale of one to ten, with one being the best and ten being the worst, it would be a hundred. Easily. But I didn't sit around and
cry
over the cards I was dealt.

Life was life, and it was hard, and most of the time, it sucked.

So why bother bemoaning the fact that I had been given a father who gave me my first beating before I could run away? Crying and wishing for a better life wouldn't turn back time and give me a dad who taught me how to ride a bike instead of how to hide in a closet. It wouldn't make my life be bright and happy, or give me a big house like this to live in. It wouldn't change a damn thing.

I was me, and this was the life I was given.

End of story.

I tugged on my sweatshirt self-consciously as I approached the kitchen. It had been a bitch getting my aching splinted arm through the sleeve without Thorn's help, but I'd managed to do it. The last thing I would be doing after that little incident in the bathroom would be asking him to help me put on my shirt, thank you very much.

He clearly didn't
want
to
want
me, so I'd do my best to pretend he never watched me come with so much hunger in his eyes he could have eaten me up whole in one bite. I would keep my hands to myself, and go back to being the girl who assumed he didn't want her. To help on that front, I opted for a pair of gray sweats and a hoodie, trying my best to not remind him of what we'd just done in the bath.

Covering up as much skin as possible.

I rounded the corner, taking in my surroundings. I'd been walking for one minute, and I still wasn't in the kitchen yet. This house was huge. Bigger than anything I'd ever seen before. My apartment with Keith had been about the size of the bathroom where I almost ruined Thorn.

I lived there for a month before leaving that guy behind.

Here, lush decorations hung on all the walls, precisely placed at three-foot intervals, and the comforter on my bed was made of the softest cotton I'd ever touched. It was like butter. And the water had stayed hot during the whole bath. This place was heaven. A dream. I mean, sure, I had no idea what I was going to do after this, or where I was going to go, and I had a sprained wrist and no home, so my choices were kind of limited. There weren't a whole lot of jobs I could do with one good arm, and my dancing career was clearly over, since I had no desire to go back to it. Waitressing with a bum arm was out of the question for now, so…yeah.

I might end up on the streets again.

But for now, I had
this
. I had Thorn. And I wasn't going to waste the short time I had in this paradise worrying about what came next.

It wasn't my style.

Smiling, I stopped in front of a glass vase that had to be straight out of the Ming Dynasty. I reached out a finger and touched it, tracing a line of red that swirled through it. It was soft. Smooth. Cold. Beautiful. Something a girl like me never should have been near. And yet, here I was. Touching it.

It's weird how life works like that.

This week, I was touching an expensive vase and living in a mansion, but next week, I would more than likely be sleeping under newspaper or cardboard boxes. But whatever. The freezing streets were still better than going back to my parents' house—if they'd even
let
me come back.

Which they probably wouldn't.

All I ever was to them was a punching bag, or a way to score welfare and food stamps. Once I wasn't a minor anymore, I lost my usefulness. They told me to start paying rent or get out. Seeing as how I had been punched the night before—on my eighteenth birthday—for no reason other than existing…

I'd gotten out.

And I'd never looked back.

There was no Prince Charming in my story who would ride in, sweep me into his arms, and take me away to a happy, bright life. One with four walls, a bed, and a warm dinner every night, where no one told me I was worthless. That wasn't my life. That wasn't me. I wasn't a preppy little Cinderella girl, and no one would be rescuing me. I was just…
me
. Rose Gallagher. I would be all right.

I always was.

Fighters like me didn't go down easily.

Hugging myself with my one good arm, I went around the corner of the foyer, which finally led into the kitchen. Plates were laid on the countertop, so I knew Thorn was in there, probably making lunch, like he'd planned on doing earlier. Before we…well, before
I'd
orgasmed in front of him.

And, God, what an orgasm it had
been
.

I stepped into the room slowly, taking time to judge his mood. One thing living with an abusive asshole of a father taught you? How to weigh a man's mood from his movements. Thorn opened the mayonnaise, and his grip was firm but smooth, without a hint of jerkiness. He gently set the lid down and picked up a butter knife, his knuckles not whitening. His jaw was tight, but he wasn't grinding his teeth. Not too angry, then. Good.

He lifted his head, those bright amber eyes of his that I loved so much locking me in place. “Hey,” he said. When I stared back, not speaking, he raised a dark brow. “Are you okay?”

“A little sore…” I shook myself out of the stupor I was stuck in, and forced a smile. “But yeah. I'm fine.”

“Did you take a painkiller?”

I nodded. “Yeah. It's kicking in.”

“Good. Still craving a smoke?” he asked quietly, arranging the bread in front of him on the gray granite countertop.

“What do
you
think?” I cleared my throat and forced a carefree smile, even though I was the furthest thing from okay. “What are you making? It smells delicious. I'll put that in my mouth instead.”

He glanced down at the mostly odorless sandwich he'd made, clearly aware I was grasping at straws for idle conversation, and just as clearly willing to accept it for what it was. “Cheese sandwiches,” he said drily. “With bread.”

“I'm so hungry I could eat a horse…” I shoved my damp hair out of my face. “Not that I actually would.”

Shrugging, he returned his attention to the bread. “What brought about that change in you, anyway? Why become a vegetarian?”

“I don't know. I guess it started because I watched my parents beat the shit out of me and Mikey our whole lives, so when I left, I decided I didn't want to hurt anything like they hurt us…not even animals,” I said, shrugging and coming closer. “So I just kind of stopped eating meat on a whim, and I never really missed it. I never lack food or meals, when I have the money, and my conscience is clear.”

He lifted his head, staring at me with such intensity that he stole my breath right out of my lungs. “When you have the money? What does that mean?”

“Really?” I snorted. “Out of that whole speech,
that's
the thing you focus on?”

“Rose.”
He set the knife down and caught my chin. I barely refrained from flinching at his soft touch. “Are you going hungry out there?”

“Sometimes, yes,” I admitted, refusing to glance away from him. “I mean, I live on my own, off what I can make doing bullshit jobs. What the hell kind of life do you think I live? Yes, there are days I don't have enough money for food, or a bed, or even some coffee. And yes, sometimes it sucks. But that's life. Sometimes life fucking sucks.”

“But—” His fingers on me tightened, and this time, his knuckles whitened. He gritted his teeth together, his nostrils flared, and he leaned in closer, looking like he was ten seconds from punching someone or something. “Why didn't you
tell
me?”

I stiffened instinctively and took a step back, putting some distance between us even though I knew that anger wasn't directed at me. Even though I knew he was the only man still living whom I could count on never to hurt me. “Why would I? You're not exactly rolling in money yourself, you know.”

“No. But I have a roof over my head, and I get food through the school.” He pressed his lips together. “There's no reason for you to go hungry with me in your life. I can send you money, or share my food. I don't know. But I can do something. I would do anything to get you somewhere safe and warm.
Anything
.”

I lifted a hand and pressed it to his beautiful face. “You do so much already. I couldn't ask for more, or accept more. We get together every week. We talk, and laugh, and for that short time…I get to forget about the rest of the shit life throws my way. You have no idea how much that means to me, or how much I value that hour you give me, even though you have a new life now. One without me. I'm so proud of you, too—of what you've become. Of what you've done.”

He swallowed hard, looking a little pallid. “I haven't done anything worth being proud of.”

“You got out. You made a life for yourself. That's not something that a lot of people from our part of town get to do.” I smiled and patted his cheek before pulling back. It was safer if I didn't touch him. “You
escaped
.”

“You could do that, too.”

“I've tried. Every time I try to leave, I get pulled back in.” I twisted my lips and sat down on the stool by the island, directly across from him. “I'm not made to leave Englewood, and that's okay. But that won't stop me from having a good life. I'll get there someday. I'm sure of it.”

“I want to help you get that life,” he said quickly.

“You already help me. So much.”

We locked eyes again, but he quickly glanced away and returned his attention to the sandwiches, taking his soft touch with him. I immediately missed the way his callused palm had felt against my cheek. “Not enough, Rose. You'll never go hungry again, or have no place to live. Not if I have a say.”

Shaking my head, I didn't argue.