Priest (A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Love Story)

by Claire Adams

  “Some of Jax’s people showed up a couple of minutes before you pulled up here,” Mick says. “They told me to go to the back of the truck and make sure I couldn’t see anything.”

  “So you decided to go hide-and-seek with it, huh?” I ask. “Open the glovebox.”

  He opens it and a white envelope falls out.

  “Want me to open this, too?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “Open it and pray there’s more than $2,000 in there. I’m starting to lose money.”

  “That’s just because you won’t let your Galaxie die like it’s been wanting to for years,” Mick says, leafing through the cash in the envelope. “$5,000 cash,” he says.

  “Hey, look at that,” I tell him. “That one was almost worth it.”

  “How was it out there?” he asks. “I didn’t see anything, but I heard a lot of it.”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him. “My opponents may have been easier this time, but the course was difficult. Most of the time, I didn’t even know I was supposed to turn until I was almost on top of it.”

  “Well, at least you didn’t lose your car,” Mick says. “Was Jax there?”

  “I don’t think so. What was he driving when he took you down?”

  “Is there any way you could say that with a little less enthusiasm? ‘What was he driving when he took you down,’” he adds in a mocking tone. “You’d think you’d be over it by now.”

  “If you think that, you don’t know me very well,” I tell him. “Is there anything else in the envelope? Is there anything in there besides the money?”

  “Nope,” Mick says. “Is there supposed to be?”

  “How should I know?” I ask.

  We drive back to the shop and Mick helps me get the Chevelle unloaded and into its spot before we take the flatbed back to the shop.

  The thrill of the win is only just starting to set in, and I pull out my phone to call Kate. Actually, I’m going to tell her in person.

  “How’s the Galaxie running?” I ask Mick.

  “It’s your car,” he responds.

  “Yeah, but you said you were going to take a look at it today. Did you?”

  She’s shaking his head no, even though he’s saying, “Of course, man.”

  I decide to check for myself.

  One would think that having replaced just about everything on the Galaxie except for the frame would mean it’d run just like new. One apparently hasn’t met my car.

  I get behind the wheel and turn the ignition, eliciting little more than a sputter before nothing but the click of the starter.

  “Yeah, I guess I didn’t get around to that yet.”

  “Give me your keys,” I tell him.

  “I’ve got to get home, too,” Mick says.

  “You should have thought about that while you weren’t working on my car today,” I tell him. “Come on, I know you’ve got the GT86 here, hand ‘em over.”

  “Fine,” he says, handing me the keys, “but I’m going to need a ride home first.”

  “You probably should have said that before you gave me the keys,” I tell him. “I’ll be back in a while. We can see how the Galaxie’s coming along then.”

  Grudgingly, he turns and heads toward my chronically broken-down car as I make my way outside.

  Mick is one of those guys who can’t drive unless he’s in something that’ll give him some attention. He races his ’69 Chevy Camaro ZL1, but when it comes to driving around, he has to have the newest thing on the block.

  He won’t have the GT86 much longer. It’s almost a year old.

  As soon as I get in, I can’t help but think that this is the kind of car I want to drive around in, but I’m not ready to let the Galaxie go. It may be a dark symbol of my past, but isn’t getting rid of it just admitting defeat?

  I don’t want to think about any of that right now, though. It won’t be too much longer until Kate’s off work, and we have some celebrating to do.

  The drive is wonderfully uneventful. I don’t have to check my mirrors for cops like I would have to in the Chevelle, and there haven’t been any signs of extreme vehicular distress—one of Maye’s favorite terms for lemon—like there would have been in the Galaxie.

  It’s a little weird getting from point A to point B without having to look over my shoulder or under the hood.

  When I get to the hospital, I park and make my way inside.

  It’s hard to tell where Kate’s going to be at any given time, but toward the end of her shift, she usually tries to spend a little bit of time with her friend Paz. If I can find Paz, I can find Kate.

  It’s moot, though, as I walk into the hospital and peek into the ER, finding Kate making her way from one patient to another.

  “Hey there,” I say as I approach. “Sorry to just drop in on you, but I thought you might like to hear it in person.”

  “Yeah, you really need to go,” Kate says, not looking at me.

  “Yeah, I won,” I say and then her words finally compute in my head. “I thought you were off in a little bit.”

  “I am,” she says, “but you shouldn’t be here right now.”

  She must be in work mode. “I guess I should have called, but I was just so excited to tell you,” I start again, but she cuts me off.

  “Just leave, please,” she says, glancing up just long enough to see the stern expression on her face.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Go,” she says, “now.”

  I get that I just dropped in on her, but this is a little much. As much as I’d love to figure out what her problem is, though, she’s clearly not in the mood to talk about it.

  I’m fuming as I turn and start walking back toward the exit.

  She’s working. I understand that. Still, she could have gone about that differently. She didn’t have to be so-

  “Oh hey, Eli,” a very friendly voice comes from just ahead. It’s Paz. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “There’s someone who’d like to have a few words with you up in room 303,” she says.

  “Yeah?” I ask.

  Evidently, Kate just wasn’t in a position to talk where she was. I don’t know why I jump to conclusions like that, but in my defense, she was pretty standoffish.

  “Yeah,” Paz says. “Try not to get seen by too many higher-ups on your way, though.”

  I nod and say, “Thanks, Paz.” With that, I head for the elevator.

  The doors open on the third floor and I follow the signs to room 303, only it’s empty.

  “Kate?” I ask at the threshold.

  She may be a minute or two, so I just step into the room. Only, when I go to close the door, someone’s already on top of it.

  “I can see you have no reasonable sense of self-preservation,” Kate’s mom asks, closing the door behind me, leaving us in the room together with her between me and the door. “I thought you and I should talk.”

  I’m stuck.

  “Mrs.-” I start.

  “I think you’ll find this will go a lot more quickly if you’ll keep your mouth shut and listen.”

  This is Kate’s mom. I’ve got to at least try to be nice, so I bite the inside of my cheek.

  “That’s better,” she says. “Now, I’ve been trying to figure out what it is I could have done or said to instill in you and my daughter the seriousness of the issue before us.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You,” she answers. “You’re a nice fling, I’m sure, but are you really so deluded as to think that you and my daughter have anything in common?”

  I start again, “We seem to have a great deal-”

  “I know the two of you have your dirty sex parties, but I’d hardly say that’s something you’d want to build a relationship on top of,” she says. “What my daughter needs is someone who’s going to be able to support her financially, aid her in her career, and stick around when things get tough. I think that’s not you, is it?”

  “How do you know? That sounds a lot like me
to me.”

  “Very cute,” Kate’s mom says, though I think that might be sarcasm. “I know your type. You think that Kathryn’s going to make a nice notch on your bedpost, but my daughter is so much more than you will ever know.”

  “That is not how I see her,” I retort.

  “Whatever,” she says, waving me off. “It occurs to me that we’re in a bit of a forbidden fruit situation here, though. The more I tell the two of you to stop seeing each other, the more you’re going to want to, and I can’t have that. What I need you to do is to prove me wrong. I need you to be the grownup, and I need you to end the relationship.”

  “You don’t know me,” I tell her. “I care about your daughter a great deal, and I’m not just going to abandon her because you got the wrong impression of me.”

  “I don’t care what reason you give, but you are going to start leaving my daughter alone, and I’ll tell you why,” she says. “If you really do care about her so much, it might interest you to know that she’s starting to fall behind on her schoolwork. Her work here at the hospital has even been suffering, too. This is her life. You don’t get to come in and tear everything up and not have some responsibility.”

  “I’ve never told Kate to drop out of school or not go to work,” I tell her, but even I know it’s not going to be of any use.

  “It’s your presence that’s the problem,” Kate’s mom says. “As long as you’re around, you’re always going to be a distraction. In spite of everything, I think there’s a decent guy in you somewhere. You can’t tell me that you would rather she give up her dreams to be with you, can you?”

  “I’ve never said that,” I tell her. “If being a doctor is what Kate wants to do, she’s got my full-”

  “Do you have children?”

  “What?”

  “It’s not really a thinking question,” she says. “Do you have kids, yes or no?”

  “No,” I answer.

  “Then how can you possibly begin to understand what I’m talking about? When you have children, they become more important than everything. It’s not convenient. It just happens.”

  Someone’s going for mother of the year.

  “When I see someone like you coming into my daughter’s life and even managing to convince her that hanging out with you, doing whatever it is the two of you do together, I just want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you hard,” she says. “Kathryn has the potential to be a world-class physician and a-”

  “Do you ever bother talking to your daughter?” I interrupt. “All of this pressure you’re putting on her to be you when she grows up: she hates it.”

  “You’ve got some tone for a young man trying to convince his girlfriend’s mother to sign off on the relationship,” she says.

  “You were never going to sign off on the relationship. You’re talking about how you only want what’s best for Kate, but you don’t even know what’s best for her. You don’t listen to her. Next time the two of you are alone in a room, ask her if she really wants to be a doctor. I bet you’re going to be pretty surprised at the answer.”

  “I know what she’ll say now,” Kate’s mom responds. “She’ll say that Mr. Felony is her dreamboat and nothing else matters. She will destroy her life for you if you don’t get out of it.”

  I’m about to jump right back in, but there’s something about that last sentence that catches me off-guard. It would almost be a compliment if it weren’t such a serious warning.

  “I’m sure you’re a decent guy and everything, but you’re not going to remain one of those very long if you don’t start looking after the people you care about,” she says.

  I don’t know what to say.

  She’s wrong. I know she’s wrong, but what do I say to that?

  “I doubt you think I’m all that decent,” I tell her. “I’m just surprised you haven’t called the cops on me again yet.”

  “You can form whatever opinion you may of me, but I will not stand idly by and let you take our daughter from the path toward a successful future,” she says.

  “Even if it makes her miserable every step of the way?”

  “Yes.”

  I’m waiting for an explanation or some kind of follow-up, but it doesn’t come.

  “You’re trying to make her miserable?”

  Kate’s mom shakes her head. “I’m trying not to make things any more difficult than they already are,” she says. “I’ve been through medical school. I know the pressures involved. It’s going to be miserable to one degree or another for a while to come, but that doesn’t mean the goal at the end is any less worth it. If anything, I think you may find it’s more worth it as a result.”

  “Do you love it?”

  “What?”

  “What you do,” I say, “being a doctor: do you love it?”

  A suggestion of a smile greets Kate’s mom’s lips, but it’s gone a moment later. “Yes,” she says. “It is my calling.”

  “Okay,” I answer. “That’s great for you, but Kate doesn’t love it. She doesn’t even like it. She’s not even all that interested in-”

  “Do you know what Kathryn’s first word was?” Kate’s mom interrupts.

  I furrow my brow. “No,” I answer.

  “It was ‘appendix,’” she answers. “Sure, there was a dropped A, but ‘pendix is still close enough, wouldn’t you say?”

  “That tells me she was around a lot of medical talk growing up,” I tell her. “That makes sense, seeing as how you and her father are both in the field.”

  “Do you know what her high school project was about?”

  “I’m not talking about her past, I’m talking about her present and her future,” I say.

  Kate’s mom is shaking her head. “You know all the right words, but they’re not yours, are they?” she asks. “If you don’t know someone’s past, how can you have any idea what their future’s going to look like?”

  “I know Kate,” I tell her. “I know that what you’re doing hurts her more than she’s ever going to tell you.”

  “Oh, Kathryn tells me plenty,” Kate’s mom answers.

  “Not enough,” I add. “Also, she prefers ‘Kate’.”

  She crosses her arms. “Do you really think I’m unaware that I’m the bad guy to Kathryn?” she asks. “Do you really think I don’t know if she were to come in here right now and make a choice regarding who she’d like to live with that I’d probably be on the losing side of the conversation? Why do you think I’m talking to you?”

  “My guess is that-” I wasn’t really expecting to get through the answer.

  “I’m trying to help you see reason and do what’s best for Kathryn, no matter what that may mean for you,” she says.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do-” I start.

  “But it’s not what’s happening,” she retorts. “What’s happening is she’s off at recess with you while everything she’s spent her life building is crumbling down around her. She doesn’t see it. I’m here talking to you because I’m not stupid. She’s not going to listen to me right now. She will eventually, make no mistake about that. Right now, though, you’re the one she’s going to listen to and I need you to do the right thing for my daughter.”

  “Don’t you think it’s her call-” I start.

  “Eli,” Kate’s mom interrupts. “She is my daughter. You can do the right thing or not, but if you think I’m going to just give up and let her follow your life instead of her own, you’re out of your grease-brained senses.”

  I try one last time to get through, saying, “I’m not telling you to-”

  “Leave her alone,” Kate’s mom interrupts. “If you care about her life and her future at all, you’ll walk out of this room and you won’t stop to talk to her on your way out. If you care about her, you will leave.”

  There’s not much to say after that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eight Days’ Turnaround

  Kate

  Eli won’t talk to me.

&nbs
p; After I found out that Mom had convinced the head of security to let her know if Eli came by the hospital, I tried to get him out of there. I don’t know what happened, Mom certainly won’t tell me, but I can only guess that he didn’t make it out of there in time.

  At first, he was responding to text messages—only a word or two at a time, but they were still responses. Now there’s nothing.

  He’s trying to drop the relationship. I need to know why.

  First, though, I’ve got to get out of this hospital.

  There’s no way to know for sure whether my mom said anything to security about me leaving early, but with Eli absent, the rest of my life sort of filled back up and I’m tired of waiting.

  I meet up with Paz at the ER Nurse’s station.

  “Hey, you’ve been kinda quiet the last few days. Everything all right?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “I just want to know what’s going on, but mom’s been watching me close. Every time I leave the house, she asks where I’m going, and I know she’s got my dad keeping track of when I leave and come back. I feel like a prisoner in my own life.”

  “That sucks,” Paz says, looking over some paperwork.

  “Yeah,” I say, deflated. “That sucks.”

  She looks up at me. “Oh, sorry,” she says. “What are we talking about?”

  “I need to get out of here,” I tell her. “I need to get out without my mother ever knowing. Got any brilliant ideas for me?”

  She just shakes her head. “They’ve got us running so understaffed down here, it’s a wonder the hospital’s still standing.”

  “Does that mean you’ll help me or not?”

  “What it means is I got patients,” Paz tells me.

  “What did you and Eli talk about when he was leaving the hospital last week?”

  Paz picks up a file and starts leafing through it, saying, “How am I supposed to remember something like that?”

  “Because you remember everything,” I tell her, hoping a sort-of compliment is going to be enough to melt the wall of silence.

  It doesn’t.

  “Listen,” she says, “I don’t know what’s going on, and it’s none of my business. What I can tell you is that that mom of yours ain’t just watching out for him.”