Lust Is the Thorn (16 page)

Crawling into bed alone, I hugged my pillow and let out a long breath. There was one thing on my mind that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't ignore. I was lonely. So fucking
lonely
. I didn't have family. Didn't really have friends. Just Thorn.

And I loved him so much it hurt.

My bedroom door opened, and I sat up straight, heart racing. A familiar, tall frame stood in the opening, gripping the knob. “Hello?”

“It's just me,” Thorn said. “Thorn.”

I hugged my knees, looking at his shadow, relief filling me, even though I would never admit it. Because tonight…I wasn't alone. Tonight, I still had Thorn. “I thought you left.”

“I did. I came back. I'll always come back.” He closed the door behind him. “Why do you like roses with one thorn so much?”

I probably shouldn't have been honest with him, but I was too emotionally exhausted to be clever or cautious, so I didn't even try. “Because it reminds me of me and you. It's us. Together. In a way we can't be in real life.”

He tugged on his clerical collar, stumbling forward a step. “Rose…”

“I know.” I hugged my knees tighter. “You don't have to say it.”

“I want to hold you tonight.” He took another step closer. “Just hold you. Can I please hold you?”

Even though I knew he shouldn't get in bed with me, and it was wrong, and dangerous, and forbidden…there was no way I could turn him away. Not tonight. So I lay down, facing him, and bit my lip, letting that be my answer. A small sound escaped him, and he kicked his pants off.

He wore nothing but boxers.

“I miss you, Rose. So much.”

I blinked away unwanted tears, refusing to let them fall. What did crying give you besides wet cheeks, messy makeup, and a snotty nose? There was no point in tears, regrets, or wishes. And if I said it enough times, I'd actually believe it. “I miss you, too.”

He crawled behind me and closed his arms around me, pressing his lips to my shoulder gently. For the first time since he'd dropped me off and left me here…I wasn't alone. I had somebody.

And it was breaking my heart.

The next morning, I woke to the smell of coffee brewing and stretched an arm out toward Thorn's side of the bed. It was empty. At the same time that relief hit me, disappointment hit, too. And that was the crux of this whole disaster. I couldn't love him, but I couldn't stop loving him. I couldn't have him, but I couldn't let him go. I missed him when he was gone, but having him close was even worse. I was alone, and yet he never really left me alone. I needed him, but I didn't want to need him.

But I couldn't stop.

Any of it.

It was a continuous cycle where no matter how this ended, or what became of us, we wouldn't be happy. Not really. No matter what I did, or how many times I told him I was so proud of him for becoming a priest and leaving his past behind him…he was there. In my mind. Haunting me. Never leaving me alone.

It was
killing
me.

At some point, something was going to have to give. He was taking his vows soon, and becoming a priest. Minutes from working at a parish in Chicago, or the suburbs, or wherever the hell they sent him. But every moment I spent with him made our approaching D-Day even more painful. I was going to have to cut the cord and say goodbye eventually. So why not do it now?

Yes, I was lonely, and yes, I loved him with all my heart.

But having him by my side until he walked away didn't make me any less lonely. I knew how this would end. So did he. So why were we torturing ourselves with this? Why were we prolonging the inevitable when we both knew the outcome?

It was time to let him go.

I
had
to let him go.

Opening the door, I walked out of the bedroom, hugging myself. I only made it two steps before I froze, my heart stopping, too. Thorn stood in the kitchen, tapping his foot as he cooked pancakes. A new coffeepot sat on the counter, and he cooked with a pan that was not mine. I didn't own a frying pan. It had been on my long,
long
list of need-to-buy items. The one I was methodically making my way through.

And I took great pride in that.

In being able to buy my own things through good, honest work.

Across from the kitchen, hanging on the wall in a shiny new frame, was the painting I had bought. He'd gotten a new frame for it, and it was as good as new. As if that weren't enough, he'd bought me the brown leather sofa I'd been saving up for. It was all too kind, and too perfect, and too
Thorn
.

He kept doing these nice things, making me love him more and more, so that when he finally took his vows it would rip me apart. At this point, I would never get over loving, and losing, Thorn McKinney. There would always be a void in my life, and my heart, and he was making it worse. He was destroying me with his kindness….

And he didn't even know it.

He turned and smiled at me brightly, looking way too proud. “Hey! You're awake! Last night when you were in the bath, I went to the store and got a coffeemaker for three dollars, this pan for one, and a spatula for free. I fixed the frame, and when I saw a couple eyeing the couch you wanted, I talked her down to half the price by promising to anoint her father once I take my vows.”

I held up a trembling hand. “Get out.”

“I know, right?” He laughed. “It was crazy.”

“No. I mean…get out. Leave.”

“I”—he froze, spatula in his hand. “What?”

“I need you to go.” I hugged myself with my good arm.
“Please.”

He set the spatula down slowly, his gaze locked on me. “Why? What did I do wrong?”

“You didn't do
anything
wrong.”

Tipping his head to the side, he shrugged and picked the spatula back up, flipping a pancake. “Then I fail to see the issue.”

I let out a small laugh, even though I didn't feel like laughing at all. “You never do anything wrong, so that's the problem. You're just there, being nice and making me need you, and I don't want that. Don't want to need you.”

“But”—he gawked at me as if I had sprouted a second head. “I'm just trying to be nice. To take care of you.”

“Until you take your vows, and maybe leave.”

He rubbed his jaw. “We don't even know that I'll be sent to that parish. It was just a possibility that Father John mentioned. And if I am, then part of being a priest is traveling to parishes in need. If they send me away, then I'll go. I won't
want
to go. But I'll
have
to go. It'll be my job.”

“I know that.” I gripped my arm tighter. “You don't get it. I'm not complaining that you're leaving. I'm not mad at you. I'm thrilled.”

Blinking, he scratched the back of his neck, looking faintly annoyed. “Then what's the issue? Clearly, you won't miss me if I go.”

“I never said I wouldn't miss you. I just said I was happy you were fulfilling your dreams.” I lowered my lids, shutting him out. “But if you leave, I'll miss you almost as much as I miss Mikey. Maybe more.”

I heard the spatula hit the countertop. “I can still come back to visit. And we can text. It's not like I'll be dead. I'll just be an hour or two away.”

“I know. And I want to keep in touch. I do.” I bit my lip, pressing my tongue against my piercing. “But for that to be enough for me, you need to stop. Stop being here. Stop worrying. Stop holding me. Stop looking at me like I'm your world, even though I'm not, because you're promising yourself to a life I can't be in. So just…
stop
.”

He staggered backward a step like I was ripping his heart out, and maybe I was. But he was destroying mine, too. “I can't stop caring about you, Rose. You're the only family I have left.”

“Then care like you used to. From a distance. Like it'll be once you take your vows—which you need to do, like, yesterday, by the way.” I took a step closer, but kept a few feet between us. “I can't be around you like this constantly, and not miss you when you leave. I can't sleep next to you, and not want to touch you. I can't have you here, fixing everything, and not need you. I can't hold you closer, and let you go once you take your vows, and not have it rip me apart. So…you have to go. For me.
Please
.”

He picked up the spatula again, clinging to it as if it would stop this conversation, or even the fact that I had to let him go. Finally, he set it down and came up to me, stopping once our toes touched. When he reached out and cupped my face, I flinched as if he'd struck me. It felt like he had. “But I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you.”

The emotion in his voice, the
pain,
shredded me into a million tiny, sharp, jagged pieces. I gripped his wrists. “I don't want you to go, either.”

“Then don't make me,” he said, locking eyes with me.

He was looking at me like if I sent him away, he'd die. And I almost agreed with him, to spare him that pain. But he wouldn't die. He'd be fine. We both would. No one dies from a broken heart—just their actions afterward. “Remember that time I fell off my bike and got my ankle stuck in the wheel spokes?”

At his curt nod, I continued.

“I was scared to pull it out because it hurt so much, but Mikey told me if I pulled it out, the worst of the pain would be over, and I could heal.”

His nostrils flared. “I'm the spokes?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed past my aching throat. “You're the spokes.”

Nodding, he flexed his fingers on me, almost letting go, but not quite. “I'm sorry. I never wanted…I didn't want to hurt you. Never that.”

“I know.” I leaned up on tiptoe and kissed his jaw, keeping it short and sweet. Or that was my intention, anyway. But of their own accord, my lips lingered, and he gripped my shirt at the small of my back, pulling me closer. “But you didn't hurt me. You made me happy. So fucking happy. The thing about happiness, though, is that it's a fleeting bastard. It never stays in one place for long, especially not in people like us. We both know that firsthand.”

He curled his fingers behind my neck and hauled me against his chest, hugging me close. “Yeah. We do, don't we?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “So you want me to go, and stop showing up at all, right?”

“Y-yes.” I breathed in his scent one last time, clasping his shirt. “Go take your vows. You've worked for this for almost eight years. It's time to reap the rewards. Go to your parish, and wear your vestments with pride. It's what you were made to do. What you want, more than anything else in the world.”

He didn't respond to that, but let me go. Heading for the door, he picked up his black jacket and shrugged into it. Foot on the first step, he paused and studied the living room one last time. “You're going to do great things here, Rose. I still believe that, and always will.”

“Yeah.” I forced a smile and nodded, pressing a hand to my chest where I had a hollow ache that I suspected might never go away. “Sure.”

He hesitated. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” I said quickly.

“Don't miss me. Don't think about me fondly. Don't even dream about me. Instead? Smile. Laugh. Live. Fall in love. Be happy.” He held on to the banister tightly, white knuckles showing. “Get married to an amazing guy. Have kids. Grab that fickle bitch that's called happiness, and never let her go. You deserve that. I
need
you to have that.”

“But—”
I want you, not some other guy
. I pressed my balled fist against my chest even harder, but it didn't take away the pain. Blinking away the stinging blurriness, I bit my lip and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I promise all those things, as long as you promise to take your vows and be happy with your life you've chosen.”

Nodding, he started down the stairs, but stopped again.

Cursing under his breath, he walked back up the stairs and stalked across the room toward me. Face torn with emotion, he wrapped his hand behind my neck and hauled me into his arms, closing his mouth over mine in a perfect kiss that would never stop haunting my dreams, no matter what I'd promised him. Whimpering, I clung to him, holding on to him as if I were never letting him go, even though I already had.

His lips moved over mine, and his tongue slid inside, tasting every inch of my mouth he could. Knowing this was our last kiss, and that he was going to walk away from me after this, as I'd requested, made it even more bittersweet. Even more agonizing.

Images played out in front of me. The way he'd always smiled at me as he climbed through my window, his expression shining with mischief. Him watching over me protectively as I went out with boys who were nothing but trouble, and holding me after they inevitably hurt me. The nights he'd sat on the couch reading a book, with me sitting next to him doing the same. Him washing me in the bath, trying his best to act as if he didn't want me, when we'd both known he did. The way he'd laughed by the fire before immediately turning the conversation serious, like he wasn't allowed to be happy anymore. The look he'd given me as he told me he didn't regret me, and never would.

I didn't know how to go from being around someone my whole life and knowing I could count on him, to just saying
goodbye
. To giving the man I loved his last kiss and knowing that once it was over…that I was over, too.

That it was
all
over.

He broke off the kiss, but kept his lips pressed to mine for another second. “Goodbye, Rose.”

I nodded, tightening my grip on him reflexively before letting go. “Goodbye, Thorn.”

He let go of me. Dragging his hands down his face, he spun on his heel and descended the stairs without another word. The second the door closed behind him, I sagged against the wall and banged my head on it.

Once. Twice. Three times for good measure.

It hurt, but not enough to distract me from the pain radiating from my chest to my whole body. It was the pain of losing Thorn. Covering my face, I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves and emotions, but they were all over the damn place. Losing Thorn wasn't something I could just shake off or ignore. He'd been the man I loved for years, and nothing would ever change that, or make it stop.

Something sizzled in the pan, reminding me that he'd been cooking, so I hurried over and shut it off, taking out the pancakes. They were perfectly round, of course.

Everything Thorn did was perfect.

I wished it could irritate me, or make me hate him even a little bit. But I didn't hate him. I loved him. And that made everything
soooooo
much worse. I blinked down at the perfect pancakes, reliving how happy he'd been when I'd come out of my bedroom. He'd smiled at me, eyes bright, and seemed so proud of himself for all he'd done. He was so kind, so generous, so loving. In another life, or another world, or if we were different people, maybe we could have been happy together.

My throat thickened and my eyes burned, and for the first time in forever, I didn't fight it. Sinking to the floor, I wrapped my arms around my legs and buried my face in my knees, choking on a sob. For the first time in forever, I didn't hold it back, or distract myself from the pain that was ripping through my heart and lungs and head.

For the first time in forever…

I let myself
cry
.