Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Cantrell
“Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.”
Two months after leaving the church, Bishop Carter agreed to meet to discuss the transfer of Saint Anthony’s ownership.
Cantrell—accompanied by Illias’ stepfather, Charity, and Illias—sat in a small office on the second floor of Revived Faith.
Illias hovered behind Cantrell’s chair, a comforting hand resting on his shoulder.
Charity, who agreed to be on the board of directors before Cantrell was told about the plan, stood next to Illias.
Henry sat next to Cantrell, briefcase in lap and reading glasses sitting on the end of his nose while he went through documents to make sure they were all signed in the correct spot.
Meanwhile Bishop Carter, sitting on the other side of the large mahogany desk between them, took a sip from a teacup while examining Cantrell.
“You look good, Cantrell,” Bishop Carter said with a small smile. “I can tell you’ve been sleeping better.”
“Thank you. It seems odd to say but laicization has been…good for me,” Cantrell responded. “It wasn’t easy at first, but I’m learning to be a layman day by day.”
Bishop Carter nodded, humming in agreement. “I’ve had friends leave the clergy before. It’s never easy to acclimate back into regular life. But I imagine”—he looked over Cantrell’s shoulder and Cantrell knew the bishop was looking at Illias— “having someone to rely on has made it bearable.”
Illias squeezed Cantrell’s shoulder. He lifted his hand and rested it on top of Illias’. “I’m thankful for everyone who has helped me since I’ve left the church. The volunteers at Saint Anthony’s especially. They’ve been extraordinarily kind and patient.”
“I’m glad the shelter has still been good to you.
I hope it continues to do so.” Bishop Carter opened a drawer, grabbing something out of Cantrell’s sight.
He held up a small, thick leather-bound notebook and offered it to Cantrell.
History of Saint Anthony’s was inscribed in golden cursive across the front.
Cantrell accepted the book. “Thank you.” He swallowed back the lump that formed in his throat. “For everything. I’m honored that you’ve entrusted me with your life’s work.”
“Our life’s work, Cantrell. You’ve served Saint Anthony as long as I did before I became bishop. I can rest easy now, knowing the shelter is in better hands,” Bishop Carter said, leaning back in his chair. “But do expect the occasional visit,” he added with an air of teasing.
“I would hope so.” Cantrell nodded.
“That settles it then,” Henry announced abruptly, shutting his suitcase with an audible click. “I’ll get this filed at the office first thing tomorrow. Congratulations, Mr. Koller, Ms. Monroe—”
“Charity,” she snipped. “Ms. Monroe makes me sound old.”
Henry sighed as he removed his glasses. “As I was saying, you two are now the proud co-founders of a non-profit organization.”
Bishop Carter stood, followed by Cantrell and Henry. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Koller,” he said to Henry, shaking his hand. “Thank you for putting together such a detailed agreement for us.”
“I’ll pass along the praise, I’m only the suit,” Henry clarified.
“Cantrell.” Bishop Carter took Cantrell’s hand. “I hope life continues to treat you well. May God always be with you.”
“And may God be with you,” Cantrell echoed.
The group filed out of Bishop Carter’s office and out of the church.
Crisp autumn wind picking up the scattered leaves in the parking lot.
Cantrell stood at the top of the stairs, watching Illias say his goodbyes to Henry and Charity.
Soaking in the realization that not only did he leave the church, but he managed to keep the two most important things to him.
Saint Anthony’s and Illias. His soul and his heart.
Never again would he have to pick one over the other, nor could they be taken from him. Both were his for the keeping.
Cantrell gazed at Illias and Charity talking animatedly as they always did.
She peered over at Cantrell, eyes filled with a knowing look that no longer instilled fear.
Rather, it reaffirmed his sense of security, of belonging.
Something he didn’t realize he had been missing until she welcomed him with open arms when Illias introduced Cantrell as his partner.
It was a strange feeling at first. Being called Illias’ partner.
Surreal. Dreamlike. But it wasn’t a dream.
He’s really mine, Cantrell thought, admiring the way Illias’ buttoned shirt strained across his chest as he stretched. And tonight, I’ll finally show him.
Charity cupped her hands by Illias’ ear and whispered something.
He shoved her arm, mumbling something Cantrell couldn’t hear.
Charity’s laughter met Cantrell’s ears, only making him more curious.
She hugged Illias, whispering something else that made Illias push her away and his blush deepen.
“Goodbye,” Illias announced loud enough for Cantrell to hear.
“Bye Cantrell!” Charity beamed, waving enthusiastically. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“See you Monday. Drive safe,” Cantrell said with a smile, waving back. He walked to Illias, waiting patiently for Charity to be out of earshot. Once she was inside her car, Cantrell leaned close to Illias’ ear. “Want to tell me what Charity said that has you blushing like a schoolboy?”
“That is none of your business,” Illias shot back, cutting his eyes at Cantrell. “And I am not blushing like a schoolboy.”
“Mm-hmm,” Cantrell hummed. “Sure, pup.”
“Oh my God, can we please go home?” he groaned.
Cantrell chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to Illias’ temple. “Lead the way.”
Illias started towards the car. Cantrell followed behind, eyes glued to the way Illias’ slacks hugged his plump ass.
As they got closer, Cantrell leaned forward and smacked Illias’ ass with a satisfying pop.
Illias jumped with a gasp and glared at Cantrell.
“Someone’s bold today,” Illias snarked, opening the passenger side door.
“How the tables have turned,” Cantrell replied with a casual air that made Illias’ jaw drop. “Close your mouth, pet, we’re not at home,” he taunted, then got into the car.
Illias scrambled into the passenger side, hauling the door closed. “Who are you and what have you done to my sweet, innocent boyfriend?” He narrowed his eyes at Cantrell.
“Innocent?” Cantrell raised an eyebrow as he put the car into gear and started out of the parking lot.
“Okay, well maybe not innocent innocent but you get my point,” Illias huffed, rolling his eyes.
Cantrell reached over to Illias and placed a hand on his thigh. “Maybe I’m finally comfortable enough to be who I truly am.” Cantrell slid his hand between Illias’ thighs and gave one a squeeze. “Or maybe I can’t stop thinking about what you said about celebrating after the meeting.”
“Is that so?” Illias asked, voice a little breathy. “What did you have in mind?”
“Do you remember when I said I would ruin you?” Cantrell turned down the street that led towards home. “I think tonight…” He crept his hand closer to Illias’ cock. “Tonight, I’m going to finally make good on that promise.”
“Please, it’s been so long,” he whined.
“I know, pet,” Cantrell soothed, squeezing Illias’ thigh again. “But you’re finally going to get what you’ve been asking for.”
Illias perked up. “Really?”
“Only if you’re a good boy.” Cantrell turned down their road. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”
“Yes Sir,” he responded quickly. “I’ll do anything you want.”
Cantrell recalled the night Illias first said he worshiped him. “Even crawl to me?”
Illias grinned devilishly. “Is that what you want? For me to crawl to you like a devout follower, Father?”
Cantrell’s cock jumped at the use of his previous title. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, not realizing just how much the title still affected him. He pulled into their driveway.
“Did using your old title get you hot and bothered?” Illias teased. “Do you like the idea of me being your devoted worshipper, Father?”
“Inside, now,” Cantrell ordered, cock harder than he cared to admit.
Once inside, Cantrell pinned Illias to the wall and kissed him hard.
All passion but no grace. Teeth and tongue.
Biting and panting. Hands grabbing, pulling, taking.
Cantrell lost himself in it. Lost himself in the feeling of Illias’ mouth against his.
Breath mingling together. Illias was his, all his.
Completely and utterly, with no exception, no fear. And it was time that Illias knew that.
Cantrell slid his hands beneath Illias’ shirt, resting on his hips right above the waistband of his slacks.
Cantrell pressed closer, feeling Illias’ warmth seep into his body.
Feeling their movements align, breathing in sync as if they were one being.
Illias pulled away, panting and red and perfect.
God above, he was perfect, and Cantrell would follow him into Hell if it meant never leaving his side.
If it meant he could rest his soul next to Illias’ for all of eternity.
Cantrell dropped his lips to his neck, dragging his tongue across sweat-slick skin.
Illias clung to Cantrell’s shirt, head tilting to the side in a silent invite. As if telling Cantrell to sink his teeth in.
“Fuck the games, I need you so fucking bad,” Cantrell said against Illias’ neck.
“I’m yours,” Illias whispered. “All yours,” he repeated like a prayer.