Lust Is the Thorn (19 page)

“That's not true, and you know it.”

I didn't say anything to that as Father John pulled out of the parking lot and toward the road. “It doesn't matter. It's over.”

“Would God want that for you? For her?” He glanced at me before turning his attention back to the road. “It would be sacrilegious to walk away from what is bonding the two of you together. Give her time to think. To accept your role in that night, and to come to terms with that.” He smiled. “But if you ask me, you're meant to be in a different union than the priesthood. The kind that bonds a man and a wom—”

Tires screeched, headlights shone in my face, blinding me, and the sound of metal hitting metal filled the air, tossing me into a black abyss. One that mixed the present and the past that had never stopped haunting me. Our car flew through the air as if it weighed nothing at all, rolling onto its side and screeching across the gravel with a sickening loudness. It settled in the grass as the other car rolled into oncoming traffic and collided with a truck.

Pain exploded in my skull, blurring my vision, and I tried to blink away the haziness. Nothing happened. It wasn't until I shook my head once that I realized I could still see Rose's apartment. We hadn't even made it out to the road before we'd been hit.

Father John moaned beside me, rubbing his forehead. He was still in his seat. We were both alive.
Thank God.
“Father?” I glanced at him, trying to focus on his blurry face. “Are you alive?”

“Yes,” he said, wincing. “I…I think so.”

A laugh escaped me. I couldn't help it.

This whole situation, this whole déjà vu thing, was just too much.

The
irony
was too much. Turning my head to the side, the laugh stalled in my throat when I saw someone approaching. A familiar form came toward me from the direction of Rose's building, a form I hadn't seen in almost eight years.

One I couldn't be seeing now.

Licking my lips, I squinted. “Mikey?” I whispered.

“What?” Father John asked, his tone faint. I could feel him watching me, and my pulse pounded harder. Faster. “Are you okay?”

“You're not here. You can't be,” I whispered. “You're dead.”

“Thorn?” Father John said again, this time louder.

I ignored him.

Mikey came to my side, eyeing me through the shattered window, and knelt at my side on his torn-up knees. He was still wearing the same outfit he'd had on the night we crashed, and he had blood and glass all over him, just like me. “Mikey?”

He frowned, said something I couldn't hear, and touched the glass, looking angry. I reached out, too, touching the glass. It caved in the rest of the way, taking the barrier between us away. He leaned down, whispered one sentence in my ear, and then…

Nothing. There was nothing.

Machines beeped around us, and the disinfectant smell of the hospital room was all I could focus on right now, because if I let myself think about the fact that I had almost lost Thorn…yeah. I would fucking lose it. I kept going over everything he'd said last night, and everything I'd said, and all I could think was that if he didn't wake up soon, and he died thinking I hated him…

I would die, too.

When I heard that unmistakable sound of metal colliding with metal last night, I froze. It was as if some part of myself was transported back to a night almost eight years ago, when I'd lost the most important man in my life. And now I'd sent Thorn away, and there had been another accident, but it couldn't be him. Fate couldn't be that cruel.

But, oh God, it was.

I'd run outside and seen an unfamiliar car, and for a second I'd been filled with relief—until I'd realized whose car it was. I'd seen Father John's car enough times at the office to recognize it, and though I didn't know why he would be at my complex, it hadn't taken long to realize the bloody passenger in the car was
Thorn
.

Tears ran down my face, and I wiped them away with a trembling hand. Leaning forward, I gripped his hand and squeezed it, staring at his beautiful face. It was bruised and swollen, and he had more cuts than unblemished skin, but that didn't detract from his perfection. “Please don't leave me like Mikey did. Don't leave me here alone. Come back to me.”

He didn't squeeze my hand or blink.

He just lay there, looking almost
dead.

Dropping my forehead on the mattress, I closed my eyes for a second, letting exhaustion wash over me. It hadn't been all that long ago that our roles had been reversed and I was the one in the bed, but I hadn't been unconscious. He'd suffered a pretty serious concussion, and the doctors were uncertain whether or not the injuries would affect his brain permanently.

Or if he'd wake up at all.

I refused to even contemplate that possibility.

I heard footsteps behind me and sat up straight, rubbing my eyes. “Is there an update on—?” Standing, I turned, expecting to see a doctor, but cut myself off when I found out I was wrong. “Oh. Father John. Why are you out of bed? You should be resting.”

“I'm fine. I'm more worried about him.” He came in the room and went to the opposite side of the bed. He had bandages wrapped around his head and a nasty gash that they'd stitched up under his left eye, but otherwise appeared to be okay. “Has he woken up yet?”

“No.” I rubbed my face and tried to stop seeing two of everything. “He will, though. He's just taking his time. It's how he is. He always has to take his time and think things through before making up his mind.”

Father John eyed me. “Indeed.”

“I…” I cleared my throat and sat back down, catching Thorn's hand between both of mine again. “How's the other driver?”

“He's okay. He was texting while driving, so he's facing some charges.” Father John shook his head, his worried eyes locked on Thorn's face. “We never even saw him coming. He just slammed into Thorn's door, and then we were flying through the air.”

“God.” Tears swelled and spilled out onto my cheeks. “He's going to wake up. Any minute now.” I smoothed his hair back and swallowed. “You hear me? It's time to wake up. You have too many things to do to lie around in this bed. Too many people to save.”
Me. Save me. I need you.

Father John watched me, his head lowered. “You do know he's not taking his vows, right?”

I gripped Thorn's hand even tighter but didn't say anything in return.

Just stared at Thorn.

“He suffered a lot, you know. He still does. Everything he does, every choice he makes, stems from that night you both lost Mikey.” Father John hesitated. “It almost killed him.”

“I—” I broke off, because my throat was closing from my impending tears. More tears. I was like a leaking sieve nowadays. “I know.”

“When I found him in my church, he was ready to end his life. Joining the seminary saved his soul, but I don't think it was saved for God,” Father John said, smiling sadly. “I think it was saved for you. He loves you. Always has.”

I turned back to Thorn and bit my lip.

“I'll leave you two alone now.” Father John rubbed his head. “You should go home and rest, though. It's been twenty-four hours since we got here.”

“I'm not going anywhere.” I hugged my sweater closed, painfully aware I was wearing a pair of sweats, a baggy shirt, no bra, and a fancy sweater. I'd thrown on the first clothes I could find when I heard the crash, and I hadn't changed. “He might wake up the second I walk out the door.”

“You love him,” Father John said, watching me.

It was clear it wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes.”

“He's like a son to me. The son I'll never have.” Father John frowned. “Make sure you do some serious soul-searching before you walk away from him, or before he walks away from you. Before it's too late.”

And with that, he left the room.

I rested my head on his bed and closed my eyes, and for the first time in years…I prayed. I understood that God might not listen to me, or know who I was, but he knew Thorn. And he needed to save him.

An unfathomable amount of time later, I lifted my head and blinked my heavy eyelids. I choked on a breath when I saw his dark amber eyes staring back at me.

He blinked, and seemed tired, but he was
awake
.

“Thorn?” I whispered, slowly reaching out to touch his cheek.

He didn't say anything. Just looked at me.

“Hey.” His skin was cool to the touch. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and the words kept coming and they wouldn't stop. “God, I was so scared I lost you, too. That you were gone. Don't do that to me ever again.”

He watched me, not speaking, just blinking.

Just as I was about to blurt out that I forgave him, that I loved him with all my heart and soul, he licked his lips and finally opened his mouth. “Water,” he whispered.

“Y-yeah.” I stood unsteadily, my heart pounding in my ears, and swiped my damp palms on my sweatpants. “Of course. Let me call the nurse in to make sure it's okay.”

Catching my wrist, he halted me in midstep. “Father John?”

“He's okay.” I laughed nervously. “Better than you.”

“Thank God,” he said, his voice faint.

Swallowing hard, I said, “Yeah. Thank God.”

He didn't say anything else, didn't look at me, so I walked out of the room and up to the nurse's station. By the time I returned with the nurse, he was a little more alert. As they poked him and asked him questions, all of which he answered correctly, I watched from the corner of the room. He hadn't looked at me since I'd come back, and I wasn't sure what to think about it.

I stepped back toward the door and he glanced away, dismissing me.

Still,
I didn't go.

“Thank you,” I said to the nurse when she left, giving me a smile. I forced one in reply and stepped closer to the bed, biting my thumbnail. “Thorn?”

He laughed and covered his face. “I can't believe this happened again, or that I saw him. If that's not a sign, I don't know what is.”

“A sign?” I came back to his side and grabbed his hand. He snatched it back immediately. “What kind of sign do you think it is?”

“Just one I'd been waiting for, is all.” He turned his face away from mine, refusing to look at me. “Why are you here, after what happened tonight?”

I gripped my hands in front of my stomach, holding on to my fingers so tightly I hurt myself. “I'm your emergency contact, just like you're mine.”

“Right. Well, as you can see, I'm alive. I didn't die…again,” he said faintly, his voice cracking. He didn't look at me. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned back in the bed. “You can go now. Your duties are fulfilled.”

I bit my thumb harder. “Thorn—”

“We both know the last person you want to be with right now is me,” he said, his voice low. “And I don't blame you. Not one little bit.”

“But—”

“Just leave.” He gripped his blanket hard. “Please.”

Nodding, I blinked back tears and walked out of the room, stopping right outside his door and flattening myself against the wall so he couldn't see me. Everything inside of me was jumbled, confused, and upset. Every emotion known to mankind was fighting for the strongest hold right now, and I had no idea which one would win.

I covered my face and took a deep breath. “Get your shit together, Gallagher.” Something crashed against the wall behind me, in his room, and I jumped, lowering my hands. “Wha—?”

A nurse rushed past me, her face pinched with worry, and dread settled into my stomach. “Mr. McKinney, you need to lie back and rest.”

“I have to get her.” Something fell to the floor, clanging on the tile. “Let me go. I need to—”

“Mr. McKinney,
sit down
. Where exactly do you think you're going?”

“For
her
.” I peeked into the room in time to see the nurse holding him down as he tried to get up, his face red and flushed. He swatted away her hand, scowling up at her.
“Let me go!”

After taking a deep breath, I came around the wall. “Thorn.” I swallowed hard as his gaze locked in on mine. “Stop it right
now
.”

He froze immediately, blinking at me. “Is that really you?”

“Yeah.” I glanced at the nurse. “It's me.”

“Why is the room moving?”

“It's not.” I forced a small smile. “Neither are you. Lie back down.”

He stared at me, blinking, as he leaned back into the bed. “The pain meds kicked in. I think I'm getting dizzy.”

“Yeah. They do that.” I took another step toward him and nodded to the nurse. “He'll stay in bed now. I promise. I've got him.”

The nurse gave Thorn an appraising glance, but smoothed her scrubs and let go of his shoulders. “You try a stunt like that again, and I'll have you secured for your own safety.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Thorn glanced down at his lap. “I'm sorry.”

The nurse huffed and brushed past me.

After she left, I bit my lip and swiped my cheeks dry. “Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah. I'm sorry I told you to leave. I'm just angry at myself for…well, everything. But I shouldn't have yelled at you. It's not your fault I'm an idiot.” He lifted his head. He might be hurt, pale, doped up, and half broken right now, but the force of his gaze almost knocked me on my butt. “Are you okay, little Gallagher?”

He was broken on a bed, and he was worried about
me
. Typical Thorn. “Yes,” I said through a thick throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful.” He rested a hand on his thigh. “But I've been worse.”

I opened my mouth, and closed it. “I know.”

“I'm sorry, Rose.” He locked eyes with me again, the whites of his eyes growing more pink. “So fucking sorry.”

I frowned. “Language.”

“I don't give a damn.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not anymore.”

“But…?”

He pressed his lips together. “It's not the life for me, Rose.”

“Why did you—?”

A nurse came into the room. “Miss, you have to leave. Mr. McKinney is being transferred to another wing, and it's past visiting hours there. You can come back to see him tomorrow morning.”

I swallowed and nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I'll go.”

“Wait.” Thorn sat up straighter. “Can we have five more minutes? Please?”

The nurse frowned, but nodded. “That's it.”

“Thank you,” he said humbly. She left, and he turned back to me. “What were you saying?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the open door, and back to him. He was so pale, lying there in the bed alone, in a green gown, with white sheets surrounding him. “Why did you want to become a priest? I mean, I know when you decided to, but
why
?”

The corners of his mouth pinched inward and he turned away from me, avoiding looking at me. “It started out as a penance. At the time, the worst life I could imagine was one where I couldn't…where I couldn't”—he glanced up at me, his eyes shadowed with memories—“where I couldn't have
you
. It was the worst punishment I could think of. Even back then, I loved you. I didn't know it, but I felt it. Here.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “So I took the one thing I had left in this world that I loved, and I made it so I could never have it. So we could never be together. It was my penance. I guess, in a way, it was yours, too, but that wasn't my intention. I was trying to save you from me. Trying not to ruin your life even more.”

I swallowed hard, pressing my fingers to my mouth. “So all this time, you didn't want to be a priest? It was just a punishment?”

“It started out that way.” He dropped his head back onto the pillow, his jaw square and hard. “But over time, it became more. I wanted this life, because it had saved me. Entering the seminary saved my life. I was on a path to destruction, and if I hadn't found salvation here, I would have destroyed everything in my path, including you. If not for Father John and the school…I wouldn't be here today.”

“Don't remind me,” I said between clenched teeth. I think that's what angered me the most about his whole confession—that he'd almost ended his life. “So at some point, you felt the calling?”

“No. I felt the need to atone for guilt, and for what I'd done.” He took a deep breath. “Even though I wasn't sure I was being called to the priesthood, being in this life seemed like the only way to ensure I was in a position to make good. I wanted to save kids like me. Save souls, like Father John.”