9. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Eden
W hat have I done?
What sane person has phone sex with a priest? As if letting him listen to me finger fuck myself wasn’t enough, I poured gasoline on an already out-of-control fire with that photo.
Can I blame the Devil for this unyielding desire to tempt him more, or do I thank God for the unexpected reprieve Roman grants me from the torment of trauma threatening to break me almost every day? I bend at the sound of his voice, falling into a consuming pit of lust and hunger anytime I think of him.
This isn’t like me.
I barely sent Eric anything erotic, even when he’d begged for them.
Why in the fuck would I tempt my goddamn priest with a photo of myself licking my own cum off of my fingers ?
Roman never responded after my raunchy photo or the text that could be interpreted in a million different ways. In the heat of the moment, I’d felt in control.
I wanted to know how far Roman was willing to go.
Now, one climax and zero new texts later, I’m wondering if he’d already reached that limit.
The pain from my father’s special brand of punishment lingers, and with Father Briar now paying closer attention to me, cutting isn’t an option to relieve the tension building in my chest and radiating through the rest of my tired body.
Glaring at the jewelry box where I hide the blades, I count to ten in my head.
They will always be there.
There is no need to add more wounds to an already mangled body. If you don’t stop, you won’t have any clean skin left.
Not today.
Fastening the tie to my apron, I work several layers of concealer onto the bruised skin around my neck. The best I could do was to make it look like someone had a great time sucking on my neck in a fit of passion.
I deliberately take my time getting ready, trying to avoid any chance of my dad insisting I sit down for breakfast. I move to the floor-leaning mirror in my bedroom, smoothing down the form-fitting, long-sleeved black turtleneck dress, making sure it covers the front of my thighs under the apron. In my hurry to make it back home a few months ago, I’d left most of my clothes in my dorm room. I knew they’d get thrown out after I left, but I couldn’t care less at the time. I was frustrated to find the four pairs of pants that I had to my name all in the wash this morning, leaving me with this or a pair of pajama shorts to wear to work today.
I moved to the closet, pulling out a pair of knee-high boots to hopefully combat the chilly air on my otherwise bare legs. Glancing at my phone, I grab my bag and hurry out of my room before I’m late.
The smell of eggs wafts through my nose as I creep downstairs. I catch sight of my brother slumped over the dining room table with his head resting in his palm as he pushes food around on his plate. His skin is dull, and the bags under his eyes tell me he got about as much sleep as I did last night. Grabbing my keys from the hanger by the front door, I’m stopped by the sound of my father’s voice before I can make my escape.
"Eden," My dad chirps happily as if he didn't smack my ass raw last night. "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"
Poking my head into the dining room area, all three members of my family look at me. The only one smiling out of the group is my father. He looks considerably less disheveled than he did last night, his neat appearance and tailored suit fitting for someone who runs a law firm.
"Goodbye?"
"You’re aware that your service hours begin today with Father Briar, correct?" He eyes me as he takes a drink from his mug.
"David, she has a long shift, maybe-"
He cuts my mother off before she can finish. "You’re to be at the church directly after work, Eden. Am I clear?"
"Of course," I smile, glancing at Aiden. "On one condition," I push, my father's eyes widening.
"Let Aiden come with me to work. There's free Wi-Fi, and he can get some of his college entry work done," I smile. "We can go over scripture on my lunch." His expression softens with a smirk of satisfaction. I can let him think he’s won if it means getting Aiden out of here.
"Aiden-"
"I'll grab my bag," Aiden says, almost jumping up from the table. Nodding in approval, my dad watches us as we leave, wagging his finger in the air.
"Eden?"
My body stiffens as I clutch the doorknob. "Yes?"
"See to it that you’re on time for Father Briar today,” He snaps, a warning hidden in his words.
Without a word, I turn the doorknob and leave, looking forward to spending half my day lost in espresso pulls and overpriced macchiatos.
Aiden’s head stays pressed against the glass as he blankly stares out the passenger-side window of my car. The gnawing sound of whatever alternative band he was playing blared loudly through the speakers, reminding me of something my college roommate would've liked. We’d been quiet up to this point, the silence between us somewhat comforting.
"You didn't have to offer to take me with you today.”
Looking his way, I shrug.
“It’s whatever. I’ll be busy most of my shift. Probably won’t even notice you’re there,” I tease, forcing myself to pretend everything can be normal.
I have to believe it will be.
"Are we going to do that? Are we going to pretend like nothing happened last night? Just like we pretend everything is okay each time he hits Mom a little too hard? Or what about how we pretended that he didn’t slap me so hard one time that I had to miss picture day? I heard your screams last night, Eden-"
"And will talking about it change anything?" I grip the wheel tighter. "My ass is so sore I can barely walk, and you want me to dwell on it right before work? Ignoring this messed-up family is a hell of a lot easier than facing the fact that I have nowhere else to go. College is your way out, Aiden. I fucked up, but you still have a chance to get out. So instead of wasting your summer getting high with your washed-up friends, do what I should have done—find a way to stay the hell away.”
He’s silent for a moment, staring at his feet before looking over to me and clearing his throat.
"Why did you come back if you knew how bad it was here?" I can hear the genuine concern in his voice. He’s not asking to hold it against me, but because he wants to help, which is a much harder reality to face. It’d be easier if he was truly a dick.
I want to tell him to ask Eric.
This family loved his evangelical, God-fearing ass so much. I’m surprised no one has reached out to him after we split.
"There was something worse at college than this family," I whisper .
I slowly regain consciousness in the hospital bed. The room is dimly lit, with the soft hum of medical equipment in the background. I blink, disoriented, trying to make sense of my surroundings. My vagina throbbed with horrendous pain, feeling as if it had been ripped apart and sewn back together again.
A woman in a white coat looms over me, smiling gently before taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Her expression is soft, her eyes filled with compassion.
“Where... Where am I?”
"You may still feel groggy from the pain medication," She says, placing her hand on my forearm. "Do you have any idea how you got here, sweetheart? How’s your pain level?"
I try to pull forward any recollection of what might’ve happened that resulted in me lying in the hospital, but my memory is foggy. Fear tightens the muscles in my chest.
“No... my head... and my stomach. And my...I-I feel sore. Everything's blurry.” I touch my head slowly.
"My name is Dr. Moore. It seems you were given something... a drug, likely without your knowledge. We’re running some tests, but the important thing is that you’re safe now.”
“ A drug? What do you mean? Did someone...” My voice falters in realization.
"We tried to track down your I.D. to phone someone but couldn’t find it in any of your clothing. It looks like someone tried to hurt you. You were found unconscious. But you’re in good hands now, and we’re going to help you through this. The wounds you came in with were extensive in some areas," She sighs, glancing to the door; a man and woman in police uniforms stand in the entryway of the room, one with a clipboard in his hand. The look they give me tells me they’re waiting for permission to step in.
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the tears slipping down my cheeks. The pain and fear mix with confusion as I try to process what she’s saying. I take a shaky breath and open my eyes again.
Dr. Moore squeezes my arm. “It’s going to take time, but you’re going to be okay. You have people here who care about you. The police are going to want to talk to you just to understand what happened and help find out who did this. The rape kit we’ll administer is very straightforward...”
"Eden!" Aiden yells, pulling me away from my thoughts, my foot slamming on the brakes, narrowly avoiding blowing through a red light.
Gasping, I extend my arm out over my brother’s chest.
"Where did you just go?"
Shaking my head, I roll my fingers over my eyes, trying to calm myself down, focusing on reality rather than the memory of that night.
"Nowhere, Aiden," I sigh. "I'm just tired."
Hit with the comforting smell of roasted coffee beans, I point to a couch isolated in the corner of the room, texting Aiden the Wi-Fi password, letting him go and do his own thing.
"Want anything?"
"Anything that will keep me up. I barely slept last night," He sighs, narrowing his eyes at my neck .
"Right," I smile, my throat still swollen.
Zoey waves at me from the counter, ignoring the customer in front of her.
Making my way around the counter, I playfully nudge her to the side, clocking in on the register's tablet.
"Can you make Aiden a double shot of espresso?" I ask, her mouth stuck in a pout as she looks at my brother. He gives her his best doe eyes in hopes she’ll eventually cave.
"Fine," She sighs, rolling her eyes. "I was going to make one for myself anyways."
I don’t find it hard to smile at Zoey as she giggles and makes her way over to the espresso machine. Her apron is covered in pins representing different organizations and causes that some might argue compete with the large, silver cross hanging from her neck. She’s never struggled to have an open mind, which drew me to her instantly. I never felt less than or judged when I was around her.
Back at college, I never had anyone I’d consider a friend. Sure, there were people I saw regularly, but everything always seemed so superficial. It reminded me a lot of my family, which was ironic since I left for college to get as far away from them as possible.
My roommate spent most of her free time shacking up with frat boys any chance she could get, sometimes even bringing them back to our room, locking me out until she was finished. I spent more nights than I care to admit sleeping in the hallway of our dorm. I’m not sure she cared.
I can’t picture Zoey doing anything like that, which is why I’d consider her a friend. And although she makes an effort to go to church with her parents every Sunday, I know if she had a choice, she'd say fuck it to organized religion entirely.
Finding her own relationship with God outside the church has always been her mindset.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of a man’s voice. “I’m looking for recommendations. Anything on the menu you’d recommend?”
The sound of coffee beans spilling on the floor draws my attention to Zoey. She does this almost every shift I have with her, but I’m still surprised.
“Sorry!"
The man in front of me is at least six feet tall, with light brown curls and a sweaty, flushed face. A hockey jersey covers his large frame. Freckles like mine dance across his face adding to the charm of his dark blue eyes and friendly smile.
This is exactly the type of boy I would’ve fawned after in high school if I wasn't busy planning a perfect Catholic wedding with Eric.
"Depends. Did you just run a marathon?" I joke, as he pushes his wet hair out of his face.
He laughs. "Close. I just got done with hockey practice, and I’m in serious need of some caffeine before I hit the shower and start studying... So, what do you recommend..." He stops, looking at my name tag. "Eden? Pretty, like the garden," He smirks, my cheeks growing hot at the comment.
"What about, um, a d-dirty chai latte?" I stutter out like an idiot.
He leans closer to me over the counter. “Just how dirty is it? ”
The confused look on my face makes him belt out another laugh.
"I'm messing with you. That sounds perfect. How much-"
"It's on the house," Zoey interjects, pushing me out of the way of the register. "Eden here can make your drink. Just wait for it at the end of the counter."
"Are you sure? I don't mind paying-"
"Super sure. Move along, blue eyes," She waves as the man drops the ten-dollar bill he meant to pay with straight into our tip jar.
"Zo, what are you doing-"
"He's hot and has come in here multiple times and never asked for a suggestion. He always gets the same thing. So go and make that sexy man's drink and strike up a convo while I make Martha a decaf latte and listen to her bitch about her heart problems."
She nudges my shoulder, and I can’t help but shake my head. Making my way through the station, even though I've made the drink dozens of times before, I take a little extra time making it today. Topping it off with a layer of cinnamon foam, I slide the mug across the counter, proud of myself for the near-perfect leaf design swirled on the top of the drink.
"Wow, I would order this every time if I knew this was the presentation I'd get," He grins, looking at me.
"Oh shit," I whisper, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I didn't ask if you wanted that to go-"
"I usually get it to go, but I think I’ll drink it here today.”
He picks up the coffee cup before extending his free hand out between us. "I’m Luca," He says, and I take his hand in mine.
I point to my name tag playfully. "Eden. Just in case you already forgot.”
He shakes his head at me before releasing my hand. "Humor me, Luca," I whisper, leaning my elbows into the counter, getting a closer look at the man. "What inspired you to switch up your drink order?"
"Full honesty," He whispers, leaning into the counter, too. "You caught my attention the minute I walked in. I've never seen you here before. Now, I'm crossing my fingers hoping you're not a high schooler and this entire meet and greet turns into a disaster.”
I smile at his charm.
Maybe getting to know this man wouldn’t be the worst idea.
At least this is appropriate. It’s not like I can shamelessly flirt with a priest in public. Ever.
Taking a closer look at Luca, I see a cross is settled under his jersey. I raise my arm and point to his chest.
"Are you religious, or is that just a fashion statement?"
"Definitely Catholic," He smiles. "Although, never been huge on the idea of going to church."
"Trust me," I sigh. "I get it."
Grabbing one of the pens and empty customer survey forms next to the register, Luca quickly writes something out and slides the piece of paper across the counter.
"I have practice in the mornings most days and work every other day at my dad's outdoor gear store. Evenings are totally free. Normally, I'd say it's time for me to go," He whispers, grabbing the drink again, "But since you made this for here," He sighs. "I guess I'll have to sit down and do my studying here."
“I guess you will –”
"Father Briar," Zoey chimes, my attention immediately stolen from the conversation with Luca.
Whipping my head around, there he stands, in black joggers and a grey hoodie, the tattoo on his neck peeking out from the neckline. I don’t think anyone would guess he was a priest.
"Did she just say, Father?" Luca questions. "As in, that man's a priest?"
"Yeah," I mutter. "That's exactly what she said."
Locking eyes with me, Roman raises his brows once he notices Luca. A wave of arousal washes over me, pooling in my lower stomach. Crossing my legs, I bite my cheek, trying to focus on something else.
Why the fuck is he here?
Tugging at my collar, the material feels tighter
Turning back to Luca, I try to pick up where we left off.
"Do you want to sit with me while I take my break?"
Luca nods, his eyes burrowing into mine with a look of curiosity and satisfaction."Sure-"
Taking a step out from behind the counter, I keep my back facing Roman, blocking out the sound of his voice as he relays his order to Zoey.
"Zoey, I'm taking fifteen," I yell, making my way outside and away from Father Briar.