Chapter 12 Alessio
ALESSIO
I’D FUCKED UP.
A week had passed since I’d done the thing I couldn’t take back. Seven long, torturous days of replaying our kiss in my head, of knowing what it was like to have Rafael’s lips against mine not as a teenager, but as a man.
It was even worse than I’d imagined.
Back then I’d taken it for granted that I could touch him anytime I wanted. I’d never expected there would be a time when I couldn’t, when he wouldn’t want me to.
So when he’d followed me at Lucien’s wedding and wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone, I’d lost my mind and done the one thing I’d told myself I’d never do. Not because I didn’t want to, but because of who he was now. What he’d chosen—which wasn’t me.
Days spent pretending hadn’t helped, not when I’d made sure Rafael touched every part of my life. I could see him anytime I wanted, at home, at Libertine, in my mind. I’d made sure of that when I purchased my home to directly overlook his.
God, he didn’t even realize how much he was integrated into my very being, and it made me feel so pathetic and weak that a man who didn’t want me back had such a hold on me.
Even now I couldn’t escape him, as I stood in the community center near St. Andrews, putting the last of the gift bags onto a massive table.
My brothers and I had long partnered with the church’s outreach program—scholarships, mentorship, and support for at-risk kids and teens—and that meant Rafael was here too.
Of course, I felt him before I saw him. Even as the room began to fill with people, kids chasing each other, teens laughing loudly, volunteers juggling trays of food, my attention kept getting pulled to the one steady presence on the other side of the room.
Rafael stood near the far wall, sleeves rolled up his arms, his collar still in place but looking far more laidback than he did in church. More…approachable. He wasn’t the man behind the lattice here, or the man I’d kissed and run away from.
I averted my eyes before he could look my way and headed to the drink table.
I needed something stronger than what was on offer, but I ladled some fruit punch into a cup anyway.
Lucien had taken up the mantle of putting all this together, along with Kai, and they were both over at the ping-pong table refereeing an intense game.
I was about to head that way to give me something to do—and to resist the urge to walk to the other side of the room where Rafael stood—when someone ran into me hard from behind.
I tightened my grip on my drink just in time, but some of the punch spilled over the lip of the cup.
I spun around, ready to cuss out whoever it was, but the teen boy already had his hands up and his jaw set, like he expected to have to protect himself.
There was something in his brown eyes, though, that looked almost scared, and I found myself taking a step back to give him some space and show him I wasn’t a threat.
I knew what I looked like—Lachlan always joked that my arms were the size of boulders, and I worked out hard to keep them that way, but I didn’t like to use them in any way to cause harm unless I had to.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said, lifting his chin defensively, his voice coming out a bit deeper than his young face let on, like it had recently changed and his body hadn’t caught up yet.
I shook the punch off my hand and shrugged. “It’s all good.”
The boy’s shoulders relaxed a little, and I brought my cup to my lips.
“You tried the punch yet?”
His brows shifted down over his eyes. “What?”
“It’s not bad. Could use some vodka, but it’ll do.”
Surprise crossed his face as I headed back to the beverages to refill my drink and grab a few napkins to mop up the spill.
“Uh, you’re not supposed to say that.” He warily took a couple steps closer to join me, though, clearly feeling the threat dissipate.
“I’m not supposed to do a lot of things,” I said. “Yet here we are.”
That earned me a curious sideways glance, and then he eyed the punch. “You a volunteer or something?”
“Or something. Mostly here to make sure nobody sets anything on fire.”
“That happen a lot?”
“More than you’d think,” I said, ladling another cup of punch and holding it out to him. “At least, it did when I was an altar boy.”
His eyes widened and he took the drink. “You were an altar boy?”
“Why so surprised?”
“You don’t act like one. Or—” He stopped himself from finishing that sentence, and I smirked.
“And I don’t look like one? Yeah, well. Things change.” I took a long sip of punch and out of the corner of my eye saw him cautiously do the same. “What’s your name?”
“Why?”
I made a show of rolling my eyes. “So I can report you for spilling the punch.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, you’re right I wouldn’t.” I held out my hand. “I’m Alessio.”
He stared at it for a long moment, and just when I thought he wasn’t going to shake it, he did. “Marco.”
“Good to meet you, Marco. Glad you’re here.”
“Why?” he asked again.
“’Cause I could’ve used something like this when I was your age.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I thought you were an altar boy.”
“I was, and then I got older and decided adults were useless and I was smarter.”
“And then what?”
“Eh, maybe I was wrong. Shit’s just complicated when you grow up.”
He cracked a smile, though he still wasn’t sure what to make of me. “What do you do now?”
“I break into places I’m not supposed to be.”
“Wait…really? Like illegal stuff?”
I winked. “Depends on who’s asking.”
A full grin spread across his face. He was impressed now. “That’s kinda sick.”
“Nah. Most of the time it’s just sitting alone, staring at screens.” I swirled my punch around the glass and felt eyes on me, and not just Marco’s. I ignored it.
“Does Father Vitale, um, know what you do?”
My eyes shifted past Marco then to see the “father” in question looking at the two of us. But before I went back down that rabbit hole, I turned my attention back to the boy in front of me.
“He knows…me.” There, that was the truth without full implications. “He was actually an altar boy with me.”
Marco’s mouth fell open. “Shut the fu— Yeah, right.”
“Hard to believe?”
“Just a little. He’s so, like, you know…”
“Perfect?”
Marco frowned, but then nodded. “Yeah. Godlike, you know?”
Don’t remind me, I thought, really wishing for that vodka now.
“I can’t imagine him as a kid. He’s so stuffy and holier-than-thou. I always feel like I’m letting him down.”
“Yeah, I get that. It’s because he’s a”—I almost choked on the word—“priest. But trust me, you could never let him down.”
“How do you know?”
Because I’ve done a whole bunch of worse shit and he still seems to see some good in me. “’Cause that’s not God’s deal, and he’s like a one-way phone call to the big man upstairs. If you’re here, showing up to help the community, you’re good with the father, trust me.”
“Alessio’s right.”
I’d know that voice blindfolded and in the middle of a crowded room, as Rafael came to a stop beside me.
“Father Vitale.” Marco’s eyes widened a fraction as his shoulders straightened. “I, um…”
Taking pity on the poor kid, I turned to Rafael and brought the cup to my lips. “We were talking about my altar-boy days.”
Rafael’s eyes sparkled a little, and I wasn’t sure if it was from my words or the lights. But I didn’t want to read into what it meant if it was from my words.
Stupid, beautiful eyes.
“That was a long time ago.”
Not that long. “Practically a lifetime.”
I took a long sip of the punch and looked back to Marco, who seemed like he wanted to bolt. Right there with you, kid.
“I’m happy to see you here today, Marco,” Rafael told the young man.
“Mom made me come.” Marco rushed to add, “But it’s all good. I met your friend and he’s kinda cool.”
“Yes, I’m sure he is. Some of the other kids are about to start painting over the graffiti on the west side of the church wall. Do you want to go and help them out?”
Marco glanced at me, and I held my cup up to him. “Sounds fun. Why don’t you come find me when you’re done?”
“You’ll still be here?”
“If I plan to leave, I’ll come see you first. How about that?”
Marco’s grin reappeared. “That’d be awesome. It was cool meeting you.”
I saluted him, and as he ran off, Rafael turned to face me—and just when I thought he’d scold me for talking to one of his “flock,” a bright smile lit his face. It was like being hit with a sunbeam.
“Thank you.”
“Excuse me?”
“For talking with Marco. He’s not the easiest to reach.”
I shrugged, then lobbed my empty cup into the trash. “Seemed easy enough to me.”
“Funny about that.”
“Meaning?”
“He’s always reminded me of you. It makes sense you two clicked.”
I narrowed my eyes on Rafael’s grin, hating the fact that I could see it too. He was right. The reason I’d been drawn to Marco was that he reminded me of me. “Yeah, well, let’s hope he turns out better than me, huh?”
Rafael’s smile fell, a troubled expression crossing his face. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Put yourself down. You’re—”
“The man who kissed you last week,” I reminded him, since he seemed to be conveniently forgetting that little transgression in amongst all his praise.
“Alessio.” He shook his head. “You can’t—”
“What? Tell the truth?”
“Talk about that here.”
“Right, wouldn’t want God to hear.” My eyes swept over the parishioners filling the room. “Or is it all of them you’re worried about?”
“I’m not doing this. Not here. I wanted to thank you for taking the time with Marco. I’ve done that.”
“You have. So go on now, run away.”
Rafael’s jaw clenched, as if he were biting back a response. Then he turned and headed back into the crowd.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I needed a goddamn drink.
A high-pitched whistle came from behind me, and I whirled around to see Lachlan grimacing in my direction. “Yikes, that looked awkward.”
“Go away, Lachlan.”
But there was no way he was going to listen to that request. Seconds later, he came to stand next to me and look out at the sea of people, Rafael included.
“He read you the riot act. I’m not doing this. Not here. Interesting, considering he hasn’t taken his eyes off you all day, and he was the one to come over to you.” He crossed his arms. “What was he talking about? Not doing this?”
“Nothing,” I said, my immediate answer when it came to Rafael always right there on the tip of my tongue.
“Sure sounded like something to me,” Lachlan said. “In fact, I think I heard the word kiss in there somewhere.”
“You didn’t hear shit.”
“Pretty sure I did.”
“Pretty sure you fucking didn’t.”
“Okay, so maybe I didn’t.” Lachlan shrugged. “But if I did, must’ve been good. Since he can’t stop looking at you.”
“He wasn’t looking at me.”
“Yes, he was. He always does. Just like you watch him. I notice these things. Security, remember? And you know who else is watching?”
I glared so hard at the side of Lachlan’s head that it was shocking he didn’t grip it from pain.
“God, my friend. God is watching the both of you. So why you trying to pull one over on Him?”
“You know what?” I said, turning my back on the crowd. “I need a drink. You can either come with or fuck off.”
“Hey now, no need to be like that. But if I do come with, will you tell me more about kissing a priest?”
“Fuck you,” I said, heading to the west side of the church to say goodbye to Marco.
“I’m going to take that as a yes. You buying?”