Chapter 37 Charlie
CHARLIE
My hands won’t stop shaking as I sit on the hard wooden bench outside the Bishop’s temporary office.
Sister Margaret stands nearby, her sharp blue eyes tracking every nervous gesture I make, every time I bite my lip or shift my weight.
I’ve made my decision. I spent all night staring at the ceiling of my small apartment, listening to the church bells mark each hour, knowing what I have to do.
If I’m the problem, then I’ll remove myself. It’s that simple. That devastating.
The door opens, and Sister Margaret’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “Miss Davis. The Bishop will see you now.”
My legs barely support me as I stand. The walk into that office feels like walking to my own execution, but I force my spine straight, my chin up. I won’t let them see me break. Not yet.
Bishop Carmine sits behind the borrowed desk, his steel-gray hair catching the afternoon light streaming through the window.
His deep-set eyes miss nothing as they track my entrance, cataloging every detail of my appearance, my posture, the way my hands won’t stop twisting together.
“Please, sit.” His voice is measured, almost kind, which somehow makes it worse.
I lower myself into the chair across from him, hyperaware of how my simple cotton dress rides up slightly, how exposed I feel under his scrutiny.
Sister Margaret takes her position by the door, notebook open, pen poised to record everything.
The Bishop folds his hands on the desk, his ruby ring catching the light. “Miss Davis, I appreciate you—”
“I have feelings for them.” The words burst out before he can finish, before I can lose my nerve. “For Father Cross, Deacon Reyes, and Brother Moreau. Inappropriate feelings. Feelings I shouldn’t have.”
The Bishop’s eyebrows rise slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.
My throat tightens, but I force myself to continue.
“The attachment is entirely one-sided. They’ve been nothing but professional and honorable.
Every inappropriate thought, every moment of temptation, belongs to me alone.
” I meet his eyes, willing him to believe me.
“They’re good men. The best men I’ve ever known. And I’m the problem.”
Sister Margaret’s pen scratches across paper, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet office.
“I see.” The Bishop leans back slightly, his expression unreadable. “And what do you propose we do about this…problem?”
“I’ll leave.” My voice cracks on the words, but I push through. “Voluntarily. I’ll remove myself as a source of distraction. I’ll finish working off my debt somewhere else, or I’ll just…I’ll just go. Whatever you think is best.”
The silence that follows feels eternal. I watch the Bishop’s face, trying to read something, anything, in his expression. He studies me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl, like he’s seeing straight through to every secret I’m keeping.
“That’s quite a sacrifice,” he says finally, his voice softer than before. “To offer to leave the only place you’ve felt safe, the only people who’ve shown you kindness.”
My eyes burn with tears I refuse to let fall. “It’s not a sacrifice if it protects them.”
The Bishop leans forward, his elbows on the desk, his hands steepled beneath his chin. “Miss Davis, let me ask you something, and I want complete honesty.” His steel-gray eyes hold mine. “Do you love them?”
The question hits like a physical blow. My throat closes completely, and for a moment I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything except feel the truth of it burning through my chest.
“Yes.” The word comes out barely above a whisper. “All of them. Which is exactly why I have to go.”
Sister Margaret’s pen stills. I hear her sharp intake of breath, but I don’t look away from the Bishop. His expression shifts, something that might be understanding flickering across his face before he buries it.
“I see.” He makes a note in his folder, his movements deliberate. “And you believe leaving will solve this situation?”
“I believe it’s the only way to protect them from the consequences of my feelings.
” My hands twist in my lap. “They’ve done nothing wrong.
They’ve been kind to someone who didn’t deserve kindness.
They’ve shown mercy to someone who stole from their church.
And I’ve repaid that by…by becoming a distraction.
A problem. A scandal waiting to happen.”
The Bishop is quiet for a long moment, his gaze never leaving my face.
Then he closes his folder and stands. “Thank you for your honesty, Miss Davis. It’s rare to encounter such…
selflessness.” He moves to the window, his back to me.
“I’ll need time to consider everything you’ve told me. Wait for my decision.”
I stand on shaking legs, mumbling something about understanding, and flee the office. Sister Margaret’s knowing look follows me down the hallway, but I don’t stop until I’m outside, gulping air that tastes like freedom and loss in equal measure.
The afternoon passes in a blur.
I try to stay busy, organizing more donated clothes in the parish hall, but my mind won’t stop spinning.
What have I done?
Did I just sacrifice everything to save them?
Or did I just make everything worse?
I’m folding sweaters when raised voices echo from Adrian’s office. My stomach drops as I recognize Diane’s smoker’s rasp, that voice that’s haunted my nightmares since childhood. What is my mom doing here?
I move closer to the hallway, my heart pounding.
The office door is open, and I can see Adrian standing rigid behind his desk, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
Diane stands too close to him, her bleached blonde hair catching the light, her too-tight jeans and low-cut top completely inappropriate for a church setting.
“I’m just concerned about my daughter,” Diane purrs, her hand reaching out to touch Adrian’s chest. “She’s so young, so impressionable. Men in positions of power can easily take advantage of girls like her.”
Adrian’s voice is ice. “Miss Davis has been nothing but professional during her time here.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Diane’s laugh is sharp, cruel.
“But Charlie’s always been…damaged. Messy.
The kind of girl who causes problems without meaning to.
” She steps closer, her voice dropping to something that makes my skin crawl.
“But maybe we could work out an arrangement. You and me. I could make sure Charlie doesn’t cause any more trouble. For the right price, of course.”
My breath stops. She’s propositioning him. My mother is offering herself to Adrian in exchange for money and silence.
Adrian’s hands curl into fists at his sides. “Get out.”
“Come on, Father.” Diane’s fingers trail down his chest. “I know what Charlie’s been doing with you. With all of you. She’s not exactly subtle. But I could be discreet. We could have our own little arrangement, and Charlie never needs to know—”
“I said get out.” Adrian’s voice drops to something dangerous. It reminds me of the underground boxer he used to be. “Now.”
Diane’s face twists with rage. “You self-righteous bastard. You think you’re so much better than me? You’re fucking my daughter! All three of you are! Taking turns with her like she’s some kind of—”
“That’s enough.” Marcus appears in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes burning with barely contained violence. “You heard Father Cross. Leave.”
Diane looks between them, her expression shifting from rage to calculation.
“Fine. But you haven’t heard the last from me.
I know your schedules. I know when you’re all together.
I know everything.” She pushes past Marcus, her shoulder deliberately bumping his.
“Enjoy her while you can. Girls like Charlie don’t stay.
They leave, just like I did. It’s in our blood. ”
The silence after she leaves is deafening.
I stand frozen in the hallway, my hands pressed against my mouth to keep from making a sound.
Adrian’s shoulders are rigid with tension, and Marcus looks like he wants to put his fist through a wall.
I flee before they can see me, my vision blurring with tears I can’t hold back anymore.
I run through the church, past the sanctuary where I first stole that money, past the confessional where Marcus claimed me, past everything that’s become both sanctuary and prison.
The choir loft is empty when I reach it, the late afternoon light streaming through the stained glass windows painting everything in jewel tones.
I sink onto the piano bench, my body shaking with sobs I’ve been holding back for hours.
The sound of footsteps on the spiral staircase makes me look up. Elijah appears at the top, his golden hair catching the light, his crystalline blue eyes immediately finding mine.
He doesn’t speak, just crosses to the piano and sits beside me, his fingers finding the keys.
The music that flows from his hands is dark and melancholic, matching the devastation in my chest.
I watch his fingers dance across the keys, remembering how those same fingers have traced patterns on my skin, how his touch can be both gentle and demanding.
“I told the Bishop I’d leave,” I say finally, my voice raw. “I confessed everything. Well, not everything. But enough. I told him I have feelings for all of you, that it’s entirely one-sided, that you’ve been nothing but professional.”
Elijah’s hands still on the keys. His gaze fills with pain and fury as he turns to face me. “You did what?”
“I offered to leave St. Michael’s voluntarily. To remove myself as a distraction.” My throat tightens. “It’s the only way to protect you.”
“Protect us?” His voice rises, his usual calm composure cracking. “Charlie, do you really think leaving will solve anything? Do you honestly believe we’ll just let you go?”
“I don’t know what else to do.” The words come out broken.
“The weight of everyone’s secrets, everyone’s sacrifices, it’s crushing me.
My mother just propositioned Adrian. The Bishop knows something.
Sister Margaret is documenting everything.
I’m the problem, Elijah. I’m the thing that’s destroying all of you.
Besides, you guys even suggested the same thing. ”
He pulls me onto the piano bench beside him, his body warm against mine despite the careful distance we’re supposed to maintain.
His hand hovers near my face, and I can see him fighting the urge to touch me, to pull me close.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, his voice fierce. “We’ll find another way.”
The sexual tension between us crackles in the quiet loft.
I’m hyperaware of every breath he takes, every almost-touch, the way his eyes drop to my mouth before forcing themselves back up.
His lean body radiates heat, and I remember how it felt pressed against mine, how his angelic expressions transform when he’s lost in pleasure.
“Elijah,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I mean it, Charlie. You’re not the problem. You’re the solution. You’re what makes all of this bearable.” His fingers finally make contact, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with excruciating gentleness. “We’re not letting you go.”
The sound of footsteps pounding up the spiral staircase makes us both freeze.
We spring apart just as Adrian and Marcus burst into the choir loft, their faces grim, their bodies radiating tension.
Adrian’s gray eyes find mine immediately, and the look in them makes my stomach drop. “The Bishop has made his decision. He wants to see all four of us together in one hour.”
“Together?” My voice comes out barely above a whisper. “Not separately?”
“Together.” Marcus’s jaw clenches. “Which means he knows far more than any of us realized.”
The air in the choir loft goes cold.
We stand frozen, the four of us, knowing that whatever the Bishop is about to say will change everything.