Lust Is the Thorn

by Jen McLaughlin

  The officer glared at the guy on the ground, a brow raised. “Subdued, eh?”

  “Yeah.” I crossed my arms. “He subdued him.”

  “Yes, Officer,” Thorn said far too politely, squeezing my shirt in a silent warning. “This is the second time he attacked her, so we’re obviously upset.”

  The officer pulled out a notebook and nodded. “When was the first attack?”

  “A few weeks ago,” I said through my thick throat. “I…I…”

  Thorn entwined his fingers with mine, lending me his silent support. “He tried to rape her a few weeks ago. You’ll see the report in the files when you get to the station. I’ve been watching over her since, so it’s only by the grace of God that I was here to protect her this time.”

  The officer eyed me and Thorn as if the two of us together didn’t make sense.

  He was right. We didn’t.

  “All right. We’ll bring him in,” the officer said, tucking his notebook away and motioning another officer forward. “I assume you’re pressing charges?”

  “Fuck yeah,” I said.

  At the same time, Thorn said it, too. “Every charge we can throw at him, we’re pressing, please.”

  I gave him the side-eye.

  He frowned at me.

  The officer studied us with a cocked brow. “You’ll need to come down to the station. I’ll have to take your statements. Both of you.”

  “Of course,” Thorn said.

  I nodded. “Can’t fucking wait.”

  “We’ll just put our stuff away first, if that’s okay,” Thorn said, forcing a smile. After we collected my bags and headed toward my apartment, he hissed, “Knock it off. They’re the good guys. We want them on our side.”

  “I don’t want, or need, anyone on my side.”

  Thorn rolled his eyes. “Yeah. You’ve made that pretty clear. Just tone it down a few notches until we get home, and then you can yell all you want. Okay?”

  I didn’t say anything. Just pressed my lips together.

  The next few hours passed in a blur of repeating the same thing over and over again, and by the time Thorn and I walked out, I was exhausted both mentally and emotionally. I clung to him, letting him lead me outside to his car with a hand pressed to my lower back, right above my ass. They’d let him drive himself in, but they drove me and then questioned us separately. Thorn protested when he realized how things would play out, until I placed a hand on his arm and shook my head.

  He opened the car door for me and I slid in, slumping against the seat as I buckled up. When he started the car, I rolled my head to the side and tried to read him. He was still pissed as hell, and he held the wheel so tightly it was a miracle it didn’t crack. After all, I knew just how strong he was. “Where did you learn to hit like that?”

  His jaw flexed. “I never unlearned. Punching isn’t a skill you forget. It’s just there.”

  “Yeah, but you just up and beat the shit out of the guy, like you do it every day.” I gripped my knee. “There was no memory about it—it was instinct.”

  “I box for exercise.” He stopped at a red light. “With a bag, not a person.”

  “Oh.” The idea of him shirtless, sweaty, and flushed while beating the shit out of a punching bag wasn’t exactly a bad one…“Cool.”

  He didn’t say anything to that.

  Just glowered through the windshield.

  I sighed. “Go ahead.”

  “What?” he asked, frowning at the road. “Go ahead for what?”

  “Yell. Scream. Tell me what an idiot I am for going on the L without Mace or the pepper spray you bought me last year, or whatever it is you want to yell at me for.”

  He stepped on the gas, a laugh escaping him. “No.”

  “Why not? You clearly want to.”

  “Sounds to me like you’ve yelled at yourself enough already.” He didn’t say anything, just pulled into a parking spot in front of my apartment. “I’m spending the night tonight. In the living room.”

  I undid my seatbelt, my pulse soaring at the idea of us under the same roof again. But at the same time, I knew it was asking for trouble. Despite the way I felt about him, I’d sworn not to interfere with his dreams of becoming a priest, and the easiest way for me to keep that promise was never to be alone with him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I wasn’t asking for your permission,” he snapped, turning to me with flashing eyes. “I’m spending the fucking night, Rose.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Hey, don’t take that tone with me. I know you’re angry and all, but—”

  “Yes, I’m angry. But I’m not angry at you. I’m angry with myself.”

  I pursed my lips. “Uh…Why?”

  “I shouldn’t have let you go on the L yet. Not until they caught the guy.” He dragged a hand through his hair and let out an agitated breath. “You should have been with me, so I could—”

  “Protect me? Guard me? Hide me from the world? Put me in a bubble?”

  He scowled. “Your sarcasm is not appreciated.”

  “Neither is your incessant penchant for blaming yourself for things that have nothing to do with you.” I opened my car door and got out, slamming it behind me. I didn’t bother to wait for him, since I knew he’d follow me. Sure enough, his car door shut immediately after mine. “News flash: everything bad that happens to me isn’t your fault.”

  He grabbed my arm and spun me around right outside my door, growling low under his breath. He pressed me against the door, his body touching mine in places it hadn’t touched since that night I’d tried my best to forget about. “News flash: I don’t care if you think I should feel responsible or not. When it comes to you and your safety, I will always feel responsible—and nothing you do or say will change that.”

  I held my breath because his face was in mine, and oh my God, I wanted to kiss him so bad. It was as if industrial-strength magnets were pushing us together, refusing to cease until our lips connected and never let go. “Then you’re an idiot.”

  “So be it,” he shot back. “I’ll gladly be an idiot over you.”

  I sucked in a breath, not saying anything in return. Really, what was there to say? Instead, I settled for “If you insist on spending the night, you’re going to have to sleep on the floor. I don’t have a couch yet. I’m saving up for a brown leather one I saw at Goodwill. I’m hoping it doesn’t sell before I can buy it.”

  His jaw twitched, and he ran his thumb over my shoulder gently. “Rose…”

  “What?” I said, not looking at him because his body was still pressed against mine, and he was still touching me, and I was convinced that God hated me or something. Why else would he do this to me? “What now?”

  “I don’t give a damn where I have to sleep, all I know is it’s going to be here.” His thumb stilled. “With you.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “You always say that when you know there’s no use arguing with me, but that’s not why you stop.” He leaned in and stopped when our noses touched. “You stop arguing because deep down, you want me to do whatever I say I’m going to do, and you’re simply arguing out of principle.”

  I glared at him, refusing to give him any hint whether he was right or not. He totally was, though. “Whatever.”

  He smirked and ran his knuckles over my cheek, like he always did. And my body leapt to life, as it always did. “I like it when you’re sassy.”

  “I like it when you’re quiet, which is never.” I ducked under his arm and escaped his hold before we both did something we’d regret. “Did you go to confession?”

  He stiffened. “What?”

  “Did you confess what we did?” I unlocked my door and peeked at him over my shoulder. It might have seemed to come out of the blue, my question, but it was a strategic reminder of why we shouldn’t do anything tonight…for both of us. Something told me we both needed it. “Confess all the things you did, and that I did to you?”

  He followed me inside, his
focus zeroed in on me. “Yes.”

  “And all was forgiven?” I headed up the stairs, listening as he closed and locked the door. “I mean, obviously it was, since you weren’t kicked out. But how exactly does that work?”

  “I confessed. I was given penance. I swore not to do it again.” He came to the top of the stairs as I shrugged out of my coat. “And I haven’t.”

  “Not with me, anyway,” I said lightly, undoing my scarf.

  “You’re the only one I would do it with,” he said, leaning against the wall. “I think I was pretty clear about that.”

  “Crystal.” Tossing my scarf with my jacket, I picked up the bags we’d deposited inside before leaving with the cops. I peeked inside one and the anger I’d been clutching like a life vest faded away, and sadness hit me for the first time tonight. Dangerous, terrifying sadness that I had a feeling wouldn’t leave me alone. “Son of a fucking bitch.”

  Thorn came forward. “What’s wrong?”

  “He broke my painting.” I tossed the bag aside, covering my face, and drew in a deep breath. It was as uneven as the concrete outside my office. “It was the first thing I paid for with my own money that wasn’t food, or a bill, or shampoo, and he broke it.”

  I knew I was being ridiculous, getting upset over a stupid painting. But it was more than just the painting. It was heartbreaking because some asshat who’d decided I owed him a fuck because I danced on a pole for a few days had taken something I’d worked hard for. Something I’d earned, fair and square. No matter how hard I fought, or how far ahead I got, someone would always be there, waiting to snatch it out of my hands.

  And I had had enough.

  I was over it.

  I couldn’t keep fighting like this, keeping my hands at the ready twenty-four hours a day. When I moved here, I’d thought I’d be able to let my guard down. Thought I could maybe just enjoy life a little and stop worrying about what might go wrong.

  Obviously, I was wrong.

  That part of my life would never go away.

  I couldn’t be happy. Couldn’t get the guy I’d loved my whole life. And I couldn’t even walk home from work without someone deciding I looked like an easy target.

  My life was cursed. And I’d just have to accept that.

  “It’s pretty,” he said softly. “The painting is okay, it just needs a new frame.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t afford one.” I dragged my hands down my face and shook myself off, trying to lose the heavy heart weighing me down. “You know what? Whatever. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

  He watched me, the painting still in his hand, then set it down gently. I could see the shattered glass over the rose with one thorn reflecting the light. When I’d seen it at the Goodwill shop by the campus, I knew it had to be mine. I have a weakness for roses with one thorn. “It’s okay to be upset. You’re allowed to be angry about stuff that doesn’t work out as planned every once in a while. It’s okay to cry.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I snapped, closer to tears than he’d ever know. But he didn’t know why, and he never would. It wasn’t just the stupid painting, it was the fact that I loved Thorn with every fiber in my being, and he would never—could never—be mine. And that wasn’t fucking fair. But what would crying accomplish? Nothing. That’s what. “But you know what I’d rather do?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “What?”

  “Take a bath.” I rubbed my temple, which throbbed. “And forget all about the asshole who took my stupid painting from me.”

  Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Go for it.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  Without another word, I headed into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, embracing my solitude like a warm blanket. Leaning against the closed door, I took a ragged breath, trying to stop the thoughts rampaging through me. Between having Thorn’s body pressed against mine and the asshole who’d tried to hijack my life yet again, I was a mash-up of anger, frustration, and pain.

  So much pain.

  I heard the apartment door close, and I sagged against the door even lower. Guess he decided not to stay after all. Which was really for the better. We both knew it.

  And yet…it hurt anyway.

  I took a long, hot bath, and by the time I came out, my skin was puckered and red, and I felt about 2 percent less stressed. Walking up to the plastic nightstand I’d bought, I pulled out my last pack of cigarettes—the ones I’d brought to the lake house. I hadn’t smoked any yet. Flipping open the lid, I grabbed one and tugged it halfway out before stopping. Staring at it, I mouthed a few curses, shoved the unlit cigarette back into the box, and tossed it back inside the drawer, slamming it shut as hard as I could.

  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.

  Chapter 14

  Rose

  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.”