He sat there for a moment in his SUV in the parking lot of the storage complex’s office, radio on and AC running. He needed time to pull his head on straight. Doyle had warned him that Niall, Aden, and Etsu were a poly triad, which wasn’t shocking to him at all.
What he suspected was that the triad might have a power-exchange dynamic of their own. A couple of times, he’d heard Aden call Niall “Sir.” And then there was the definite “Dom” vibe he’d sensed from the man, how Niall had naturally taken charge of the unloading process, and how he himself had been happy to follow Niall’s lead.
I’ll have to ask Niall about that later.
Once he’d come to know the man a little better. If so, even better, because it meant a fully understanding ear for him to vent everything to, not just parts of it.
Right now, he stared at Google Maps on his phone, which helpfully told him Connor’s house was only fifteen minutes away, did he wish to go now, or later?
The psychologist and priest in his brain were in complete agreement, and both screamed at him to leave this alone, to let it be. To leave the past in the past and let himself get settled and actually allow his raw and wounded soul a chance to heal before risking anything like this. That he’d be crushed even more if Connor turned him away.
The submissive man who’d never stopped grieving what he’d walked away from softly begged him to tap the button to map the route.
He swiped into his pictures, to the folder he’d created on his phone, which contained both scans of old pictures of him and Connor together as kids, and the pictures he’d saved off Connor’s Facebook account.
Who was he kidding? His heart and soul had never healed, had always bled and ached to be in Connor’s arms. In some ways, the worst mistake of his life had been deciding to attend seminary. He’d needed the scholarship for his undergrad studies, and the school in Texas had been the only place he’d been able to land one. His grades hadn’t been good enough to get him one for USF, and his parents couldn’t afford to pay for it, and wouldn’t sign student loans for him, either.
That first night in college, he’d made up his mind and refused to turn back.
But I could have come home to Connor after undergrad.
He closed his eyes.
Lord, I’ve never claimed to be perfect, or even particularly insightful about Your will, but I need some guidance here, please?
He took a deep breath and let it out again to focus on praying.
That’s when “Pray You Catch Me” by Beyoncé started playing on the radio.
A soft laugh escaped him. “Thank You.”
He opened his eyes, swiped back into the maps app, and hit the go now button.
* * * *
When Douglas made the final turn onto Connor’s street, he felt like he’d entered a time warp. Some of the houses looked virtually unchanged from the last time he’d been here, over twenty years ago.
But he could also see the differences, here and there.
His old house still looked like it was being kept up, but the stucco was now a pale blue with light grey trim, and the barrel tile roof had been replaced by asphalt shingles. Three cars sat parked in the driveway, and a bike lay tipped over on its side on the front walk.
His pulse raced as he slowed and made the turn into Connor’s driveway. There was only one car there, parked on the right, where his mom had always parked.
Douglas parked on the left, where he’d used to park the old beater car he’d had. In fact, he’d always kept it parked there, at Connor’s mother’s insistence. Usually he and Connor were going places together, anyway, and she liked the idea of a car being parked there if she wasn’t home.
Now he wished he’d shaved, or at least gotten a haircut.
Too late for that now.
He wanted this done.
Now.
Taking a deep breath, he got out and slowly made his way up the walk, literally weak in the knees, hands shaking.
Please don’t let me pass out on his front porch. That would be really fucking embarrassing. Thank You. Amen.
The front door was different. The old one had been plain, with nothing but a viewfinder in it. This one had a half-circle window at the top, in addition to decorative insets.
And a viewfinder.
One more deep breath, and he forced himself to reach out and press the doorbell. A few years passed.
Okay, maybe about thirty seconds. Felt like years.
Douglas was struggling against the urge to turn and run for his car—he’d actually turned—when the door opened.
* * * *
Sonofabitch.
If it was a damned Jehovah’s Witness, Connor was going to bitch them out. He’d just drifted off to sleep and didn’t want Kayleigh awakened.
He dragged himself off the couch and out to the front hallway. When he glanced through the viewfinder, he spotted the back of the man’s head.
When he opened the front door, the man turned, and it was the eyes that did it.
His grey eyes.
It didn’t matter that his shaggy, too-long brown hair was threaded with grey, or that his beard and mustache looked out of place on him.
“Fuck.” Connor didn’t realize he’d whispered it out loud until he heard it drop out of his mouth.
His boy smiled, looking hesitant and sweetly bashful, the way he’d always looked. “Hello, Sir.”
Connor realized he was also looking down at Douglas now, by several inches in height.
Connor grabbed him and kissed him, not even thinking about it, not even wanting to say anything except…
Fuck.
“You’re here. You’re really here.”
“I promised you, Sir. You told me if I ever needed you to show up on your doorstep and you would never turn me away.”
Connor was going to drag him inside, down to his bedroom, and—
Douglas lifted his left hand and cupped Connor’s cheek, but Connor had seen it.
He grabbed Douglas’ hand and stared at the wedding band. “Married?”
“Um…it’s a long story. I was a priest for fifteen years, and—”
It felt like someone had shoved an icy firehose up his ass and turned it on. “A priest?”
“Yeah. But then Mackie—Mackenzie—showed up. Like I said, it’s a long story, and—”
“Daddy? Who’s dat?”
Connor turned and spotted Kayleigh standing there, barely awake. He scooped her into his arms, settling her on his left hip and instinctively turning to put himself between her and Douglas. “He’s a friend of Daddy’s, honey. He was just leaving.”
Priest.
He was a fucking priest.
There were a lot of things Connor could forgive and forget.
That was not one of them.
Which didn’t matter, anyway, since the guy was married.
Why did I kiss him like that?
Douglas stared at him, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something else.
“He just stopped by to say good-bye,” Connor said. “Because he has to leave and can’t ever come back. Good-bye, Douglas.”
He slammed the door in Douglas’ face, then locked it.
Chapter Nine
Douglas stared at the closed door, the echos of Connor’s words ringing in his ears.
His hand itched to reach out and ring the bell again, to try to force him to listen. He’d known the priest news would be a shock to him, but he’d hoped once he got the full story out—
Except the little girl Connor had scooped up and protectively kept away from Douglas meant he should not.
He’s a father.
That wasn’t on Douglas’ radar of potential outcomes, that was for sure. Connor had definitely been gay when they were kids. He had no clue if Connor wore a wedding ring or not. He hadn’t had time to notice.
But what about 10:1?
Douglas immediately shut down that line of thinking and closed his eyes.
Please, give me strength and grace
, and the strength to be graceful about this.
He turned and opened his eyes. Amen.
The kiss—he could still taste and feel Connor on his lips, like Heaven had been in his grasp and then ripped away.
The priest in Douglas’ brain was sitting this one out, probably sensing his opinion wasn’t wanted.
The psychologist in his brain told him to turn around and ring the bell again and tell the story in a rush, get it out there.
The submissive man’s shattered heart wanted to do nothing more than go curl up somewhere and die.
BUT WHAT ABOUT 10:1?
He drew in a ragged breath and once again shut that down before he collapsed right there.
Zee.
Death wasn’t an option for him.
He somehow managed to get into his SUV and drive a few streets over to a shopping center, where he parked at the far edge of it, laid his head on the steering wheel, and cried.
* * * *
Douglas wasn’t sure how long he sat there and cried with the engine running, but when he heard a soft ding he sat up and realized his gas light had come on.
Part of his brain engaged to process this latest development, even though it felt like his heart had taken a leave of absence. He later found himself at a gas station, pumping gas, all of that. Then he realized he was walking through a grocery store and grabbing things he needed.
Back to the hotel, putting his purchases away.
When he finally came back to himself, he was sitting on the end of his bed and staring at Mackie’s urn.
“I guess I fucked this up, huh?” he hoarsely said. “Why didn’t I listen to you in college when you begged me to go find him then? I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did for him, but at least I’d be with him.”
That also made him feel like a shitty human being, because, then again, he wouldn’t have Zee if he’d done that, and he wouldn’t trade her for anything or anyone.
She was his precious miracle.
Except Mackie might still be alive.
Something told him to take a look at the time, and he realized he’d lost a couple of hours. It was going on late afternoon.
After taking a shower, he wiped condensation off the mirror over the sink and stared at himself. Rooting through his stuff, he grabbed a fresh disposable razor. He wasn’t even sure if his electric razor had a charge on it after so many weeks of disuse, not that it would blaze through the jungle growing on his face anyway.
It took him about twenty minutes, and a second disposable razor, but he finally carved his face out of the wilderness with minimal nicks. Then he remembered to find his charger cord and plug in the electric razor so it could charge.
On his way to Niall’s, he passed one of those chain hair salons that was open. He stopped in. Fortunately, they could fit him in immediately.
Thirty minutes later, he resumed his trek, the priest’s contribution to his mental state being the Father Koenig mask he firmly pulled into place when he walked up to Niall’s front door.
Aden answered, greeting him with a smile and a hug. “Hey, look at you. You clean up pretty well. Weren’t expecting you quite this soon.”
He forced the smile. They would all be forced for the foreseeable future. “Afternoon sort of took an unexpected dogleg on me.” He followed Aden inside, where Etsu and Niall sat on the couch, watching TV.
Zee lay sound asleep on a quilt on the floor, and a modicum of peace settled around him when he saw her there.
Yes. Zee was his life, his grace, his only reason for living.
He didn’t deserve such a precious gift as her, but he had to live for her if for no other reason. She deserved a father who could get his shit together.
He also realized how much the ache inside him eased at being with her once more. Except for a few hours here and there in the days after Mackie’s death when a co-worker of his watched Zee for him while he made arrangements, he hadn’t been separated from her.
Maybe going back to work won’t be as easy as I thought it would be.
Damn Niall and his training. “Are ye well, then, Doug?” Niall stood, carefully watching him.
“Yeah.” Another forced smile. “I stopped by to see an old friend and didn’t get quite the response I’d expected. I’d actually hoped maybe to talk to them about renting a room from them for a while, because last time we’d talked, we’d left things open-ended, but…it’s okay. Just kind of threw me for a loop. I never did get out to the apartment complexes. But I did go shopping, and now I don’t look like a crazy lumberjack any more.”
Douglas smiled. Maybe if he did it enough it’d feel natural again. “So there is that.”
“Do ye need to talk?”
Douglas couldn’t stand the identical concern on all three of their faces. “I’m all right.”
“At least stay for dinner,” Aden said. “Please?”
“She’ll be ready for a diaper and a bottle when she wakes up,” Etsu added. “She’s been asleep for a while now. We’ve got plenty. I made lasagna. It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”
His limit had been reached, too much heaped on him to keep protesting. It was now easier to play along. The priest was good at this part, could play it in his sleep, while the psychologist sat this one out with the submissive man curled up in a ball with his head in the psychologist’s lap.
Grace. Give me grace, Lord. Please, give me grace.
The priest smiled. “Lasagna sounds very nice, thank you.”
* * * *
Later that night, once Douglas was back at the hotel with Zee and had bathed her, he sat up in bed with her lying against his chest while the TV played unwatched.
Despite Niall trying to talk him out of it, to at least take another day off to recover from the drive, Douglas was determined to put in a full day at work tomorrow. He wouldn’t be doing much yet, but he needed to establish a routine as quickly as possible.
The less time he had to think about Connor and the dark, burning hatred in the man’s eyes as he’d slammed the door in his face, the better.
The TV blurred in his vision as tears welled up again.
You promised to never turn me away, Sir. I swore I’d come to you.
But it had been the promise of a boy made to another boy, sworn literally over a lifetime ago.
I’m still yours, Sir. I don’t know how to be anything else.
Except that was in his head.
In the real world?
Not really. Not anymore.
Mackie had been an anomaly, and if it hadn’t been for the baby, he wouldn’t have broken his vows to the Church—or Connor—in the first place.
Is this my punishment for breaking my vows, Lord? To You and to Connor?
To what good had it served? He was grieving, Mackie was dead because he’d gotten her pregnant, he’d left his career behind, and now the one thing he’d held up in his life was gone. No more illusions of one day returning to Connor, fantasies of a happy reunion.
I think I need to sit down and talk to Niall tomorrow.
The psychologist was still consoling the heartbroken submissive man—and likely would be for a long time to come—while the priest sadly looked on. Except both professionals knew maybe Douglas needed to seriously think about adding an antidepressant to the mix. At least short-term, something that could help him dig his way out of this emotional hole.
For Zee, if for no other reason.
* * * *
Douglas set his alarm for five a.m. the next morning, so he could spend time sitting up with Zee cuddled against him. He desperately needed the time with her, more now than ever.
He’d laid his clothes out before going to bed. Fortunately, he could dress relatively casually—dress slacks or khakis, and button-up shirts. The same clothes he’d worn at his previous clinic.
At least it wasn’t his priest uniform.
Despite how he’d felt yesterday after being separated from Zee, it shocked him how eager he felt to get moving, to take her to
Etsu and head to work despite the early hour.
I’m a horrible father. Who am I kidding?
The priest gave him a gentle nudge, and Douglas found his gaze settling on the rosary, which he’d left on the nightstand.
He reached over and picked it up, bringing the cross to his lips and kissing it.
He took a deep breath and started praying.
An hour later, he’d fed Zee, changed her, dressed her, and took a shower and shaved. As he stared into the mirror and buttoned a shirt over his undershirt, he could almost blank out the sound of Connor’s front door slamming in his face.
Almost.
Nope. The psychologist needed to be in the house today. The priest had taken over trying to console the broken-hearted submissive man, and those two weren’t making much noise right now.
Good.
He didn’t want to be Father Koenig anymore. He needed to be Dr. Koenig today.
He needed to forget—for a few hours—that he had a dead wife and a baby who was less than a month old.
He needed to not give the clinic any reason to regret hiring him. Doyle had really gone to bat for him with the recommendation, and he didn’t want to reflect badly on him, either. Or on Niall.
Especially since Niall’s wife was his babysitter.
It felt…weird driving in morning traffic again. He hooked up his phone and let Imagine Dragons play just loudly enough he could hear it and it not disturb Zee, who’d gone back to sleep.
My angel.
I need to redo my will.
Then again, who would he give custody of Zee to? Damn sure not his family.
In the back of his mind, he realized he’d been thinking he would, in some reality, at least be able to be friends with Connor. And that he’d name Connor as her guardian.
Fuck, I need to get my head on straight.
He had his Dr. Koenig mask fully in place when he pulled into Etsu’s driveway. Aden had left already, but Niall was still home and actually had the front door open for him when he walked up.
And the Irishman wore a serious expression. “Can’t convince ye to at least take another day to get yer wind back?”
Come in From the Cold Page 8
