12. Chapter 12 #2
I glanced at Harley, who climbed into the passenger seat of the F-150. “I told you I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“All right, all right. It’s just . . . You seem a bit”—he made a circling motion next to his temple—“absent-minded.”
“I’m fine,” I bit out. Was I, though? Was my mind sharp enough to perceive threats or was it preoccupied with thoughts about Harley?
The answer was clear—I needed to dial it in. Not only for Harley’s sake, but mine.
“Can’t you stay a bit longer, Brother Samuel?” Giuliana stood in the doorway, fingers clawing into the frame. “Please.”
“I have to get back to the monastery. See you on Thursday?” My heart ached when her expression crumpled. I hated leaving her here. No doubt Rome looked after her, but she needed a stable and loving family, not an uncle who might soon become the don of one of the most dangerous mobs in the country.
“Whatever.” Shoulders drooping, she turned and disappeared inside.
“Oi!” Rome barked after her. “Show some respect!” Hands fisted, he stared at the spot Giuliana had vacated, but she didn’t return. “Disrespectful brat,” he muttered.
“She’s hurting,” I said. “Angry at her father for abandoning her.”
“Didn’t abandon her. He got busted.”
“Because of his decisions and lifestyle. Same thing.” I looked him square in the eye. “I was an adult and didn’t speak to my father when he went to prison, and I still struggle with the fact that he failed my siblings. Imagine how much more Giuliana does. I sure hope she doesn’t lose you, too.”
Rome’s muscles rippled under his dress shirt, and I expected to get decked any moment. But then he deflated. “Can you do us a solid?”
“Name it.”
“Things have been a mess, and . . .” He clenched his fists. Shook his head. “We need prayer.”
“Been praying for her since I met her a year ago. I’ll add you to the list.”
Rome nodded. “ Grazie. Means a lot. Tell Harley I’ll let her know what I find out about the deal she witnessed.”
On the way back to the monastery, Harley and I discussed what else could’ve been in the crates her ex had obtained.
We always circled back to the same answer: firearms or other kinds of weapons.
After I’d checked in with Father Andrew—Father Cruz was still gone—I walked Harley to the guesthouse.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, the occasional lighting ripping across the black night sky.
“I don’t want you to spend the night outside in the storm,” Harley said when we reached the guesthouse.
“I’ll sleep under there.” I pointed at the additional roof structure at the side that used to cover firewood storage.
“But you need some proper sleep!”
The way she stomped her foot made me grin. “I sleep better outside.”
“Hogwash.”
“I’m serious.”
“Why?”
“I, um . . .” I ran a hand behind my neck.
How was I supposed to explain this? “Wentworth used to have a twin brother, Monroe. Keaton did something that . . .” I hauled in a breath.
Not my story to tell. “Our parents blamed Keaton for Monroe’s death.
Or at least they acted much colder towards him than the rest of us.
I was too young to understand, but could tell that I didn’t want to be in Keaton’s shoes.
So I did everything by the book so as not to fall out of my parents’ favor.
Sleeping on the floor or outside forced me to .
. . stay focused.” Saying it out loud made me aware of how messed up this was.
Harley’s features softened in the glow of the kerosene lamp. “And now you do the same thing to not fall out of God’s favor?”
Gritting my teeth, I looked away. Lightning lit up the woods, the tree tops bending under a strong gust of wind. Man, this woman knew how to dig deep. “It’s just the way I’m wired.”
“But you know salvation is a gift, right?”
“I do.”
“Then why do you act like you have to earn it?”
“Because I won’t waste Jesus’s gift. He died on the cross for me. The only appropriate response is to give my all in being obedient to Him.”
An emotion I couldn’t decipher flashed across Harley’s face. Something dark. “You’re right about that.”
Thunder clapped right over us, and she flinched. A raindrop hit my face, then another.
“Let’s go inside.” I opened the door and gestured for her to go ahead, but she stayed rooted to the spot, arms folded.
“Only if you spend the night inside. Sleep in the hallway on the floor if you must, but I don’t want to find you barbecued tomorrow morning.”
I chuckled. “All right. Get in the house now, or else we’ll both get barbecued.”
A smug smile took over her face as she sashayed past me. I followed her, nearly plowing her over when she came to an abrupt halt and whirled around to me.
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.” Her hazel eyes misted over. “You have no idea how much this means.”
I backtracked, closing the door as an excuse to put some distance between us in this narrow hallway. “No big deal.”
“Yes, it is.” Harley took another step toward me, pretty much cornering me. She was so close that her flowery scent taunted me. “You’re a gift from God, Kingsley.”
My heart stalled. Kingsley. She’d used my birth name.
And it had never sounded sweeter than coming from her lips.
I stared at said full, pink lips. Did they feel as soft as they looked?
My head swam. Was it hot in here or was it just me?
“Can you please stop looking at me like that?” she whispered. “We’re trying to keep our distance, remember?”
“Yeah,” I heard myself say. “I remember.”
“Okay. Good.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then . . . goodnight and sweet—”
With one big step, I ate up the gap between us, cupped the back of her head, and pressed my mouth to hers. She let out a strangled squeak, her shoulders bunching up.
I broke off. “Sorry, that was—”
Turning my back to her, I gripped my hair. What on earth, man? What is wrong with you?
I had to get out of here. “Be right back.” I didn’t wait for an answer and bolted out of the guesthouse.
Marched through sheets of rain assaulting me until I found myself in the woods.
There, I palmed a pine tree and leaned over, breathing hard.
My whole body shook. What was that? Why did I do that?
“Oh, God, please forgive me.” I had a hard time breathing. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”
What I knew, though, was that, yes, Harley’s lips were as soft as they looked.
A guttural sound broke out of me. I sank down on my haunches and gripped my head. “Please forgive me, Lord. Please forgive me.”