by Dakota Rebel
“Yeah.” I laughed. “She thinks I’m adorable, you know?”
“I knew she would.”
I reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. He caught my hand and stared at me.
“Why are your hands so cold?” he asked, staring at our fingers that had entwined at his touch.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said. I forced myself not to shrug, afraid the movement would make him release his hold on me. “I usually hit the gym around four, so I went down and raked the yard for your parents instead.”
“That was nice of you.” He let go of my hand.
“It’s nice of them to let me impose on the family for Thanksgiving,” I said. “Your mom said to let you know that there’s another mass at nine if you really want to go.”
“I think I can miss one,” he said, blowing out a sigh. His gaze caught mine again and he smirked. “Or maybe not.”
“Callum—”
“I’m doing the best I can right now,” he interrupted. “I am struggling, Declan.”
“So am I,” I assured him. “I meant what I said yesterday. I will not disrespect you or your family this weekend.” I stood up and walked to the door. “I’m going downstairs. Your mom agreed to let me help with dinner and then handed me a list of things she wants done by time they get back.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled and nodded. “She’s adopted you, for sure.”
I smiled sadly and walked out, closing the door behind myself and heading downstairs. That exchange had been very…domestic. I could see myself waking Callum with coffee every morning for the rest of my life. But I wasn’t sure if that was ever going to be my reality.
When I got to the kitchen, Niall was there peeling hard boiled eggs, a beer open in front of him.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he said, nodding at me. “You want a beer?”
“It’s seven-thirty,” I reminded him.
“Can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning.” He shrugged. “Father Ryan coming down soon?”
“For the record,” I snapped, glaring at him. “I’m not trying to hurt him.”
“That’s the problem,” Niall agreed. “If you were, I could just hate you and move on with my life. But in a very short time you’ve managed to do something that no one in this family has ever been able to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Make him question why he joined the church in the first place.” Niall took a long pull from his bottle. “One day, Callum came home with a black eye, a split lip and a signed acceptance into the Diocese program from our family priest. He’d never once spoken of joining the church. He didn’t even qualify, seeing as heterosexuality is one of the requirements of being a Catholic priest.”
“This isn’t any of my business,” I told Niall. “If Callum wanted me to know, he’d tell me.”
“Well, Father Ryan isn’t very forthcoming with details,” Niall argued. “At twenty-two years old, my brother walked away from all of us to join a church that would just as soon shun him as let him in the door. I don’t know if he was lying to himself about being gay, or if he really never realized it.”
“But you knew?” I challenged coldly, narrowing my gaze at him.
Why the hell was Niall telling me all of this? Was he trying to tell me to stay away from Callum?
“We all knew,” Niall said, rolling his eyes. “We grew up with him.”
“I think Callum should tell me if he wants me to know,” I said firmly. “I don’t know if you’re warning me for him or against him, and I don’t care. I promised him that I wouldn’t pressure him into any decision. It’s his life. I’ve done enough damage already.”
“I think he sees himself in you,” Niall said softly. I stared at him and silence stretched between us for a minute, then we both started laughing. “Bad choice of words. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I told him. I sat down and started peeling potatoes, which was the first thing on the list Mrs. Ryan had left for me. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Niall said. He walked over to the fridge and came back with two beers. He cracked them both and slid one over to me. “Maybe because you’re young, you’re gay, you get in fights because you’re gay.”
My heart started to pound in my chest, and I picked up the bottle he’d given me, swallowing several long pulls as I avoided his gaze.
“Doesn’t take a rocket scientist, kid,” Niall said softly. “You don’t leave a big ten school for a small college, I don’t care how many brawls you got into. Cal doesn’t know, does he?”
“No, motor mouth, he doesn’t,” I snapped. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to him.”
“You might get further with him if you started being a little more honest.”
“More honest?” I laughed bitterly. “I have told that man things I’ve never said out loud to another human in my life.”
“Okay.” Niall held up his hands in a defensive motion.
“What’s going on?” Callum asked as he stepped into the kitchen. “Ooh, breakfast beers.”
I watched him walk to the fridge, my gaze glued to his body. He was wearing jeans and a powder blue Henley with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. I’d never seen him in anything but his black priest garb before. I’d never realized how much of his body was hidden behind that uniform.
“Don’t drool on the potatoes,” Niall whispered, reaching over the table and pushing my jaw to make me close my mouth. “You could do a lot better than him, you know.”
“You offering?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Nope.” Niall saluted me with his beer bottle. “Just checking.”
“Seriously, what are you two talking about?” Callum asked, joining us at the table.
“You,” Niall and I said in unison.
“Fantastic.” Callum rolled his eyes and grabbed the list Mrs. Ryan had left. “How many people are coming to dinner?”
“Just us and the boys. So…seven.” Niall shrugged.
“Well, she’s making enough food to feed your whole team,” Callum said, looking over at me. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah,” I assured him.
He studied me for a moment before turning a glare on his brother. Niall just beamed at him and I returned to peeling potatoes, thinking over what Niall had said to me.
I’d kind of assumed that Callum had joined the priesthood as a way of running away from something. I didn’t understand why I thought that, until Niall pointed out how similar Cal and I were to each other.
It amazed me that Niall had already figured out why I’d transferred schools. But then, if he recognized similar qualities between his brother and I, maybe it wasn’t so strange.
Maybe Callum and I should actually talk about some things. I’d have to do it carefully. I honestly didn’t want to pressure him, but we had an opportunity here. Away from school, away from the church, to talk like people. Maybe, for just a minute, we could forget our positions at St. Catherine’s and just be two men trying to figure out their future together.
“More beer!” Niall announced loudly, making me jump. “You two morose mother fuckers are killing the vibe around here.”
“Niall Ryan,” Mrs. Ryan yelled, walking into the kitchen and slamming her purse on the counter. “That language is not necessary.”
“Sorry, Ma,” Niall said, not looking remotely apologetic. “You want a beer?”
“It’s eight in the morning,” she chided. “Declan, sweetie, you’ll have to forgive my youngest son. He was raised by wolves.”
“Cussing ones,” a huge man said as he joined the group in the kitchen. “You must be the hockey star,” he said, walking over with his hand out. “I’m Murphy.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, getting to my feet and shaking his hand.
Murphy Ryan was easily six inches taller than me and as wide as the grill of a Mack truck. I’m pretty muscular, but this guy made me feel tiny.
“Murph,” Callum said, his tone al
most a growl as he stood up and walked around the table to stand next to us.
“Father.” Murphy nodded at his brother.
There was a weird tension around them, and I had to fight against the urge to shift nervously on my feet. I had no idea why, but it felt like I was at the center of their tension and I didn’t like it.
“Fuck off,” Callum said finally, his lips turning up into a grin that was immediately replaced by a grimace as his mother smacked him upside the back of his head. “You’re gonna hit a priest?” Cal said, rounding on his mom. “On Thanksgiving?”
“You’re not a priest in this house, young man,” she challenged. “Get out of my kitchen.”
“Yes ma’am,” Cal said, he snagged two of the beers Niall had brought to the table. “Declan, come on. We should get some studying done.”
“Okay.” I turned to Mrs. Ryan. “Do you mind? I’ll be back soon to help.”
“You’re such a sweet boy.” She patted my cheek hard enough that it was almost a slap. “Go on, now. Murphy can take over the potatoes and Ronan will be here soon. I’ll have plenty of help.”
I followed Callum out of the kitchen but heard them speaking in low tones behind us.
“He brought a guy home?” Murphy whispered, his deep baritone carrying into the hall.
“Stay out of it,” Mrs. Ryan said, her tone warning.
“Come on,” Callum growled.
I blew out a sigh as we went up the stairs to his room. God, what the hell was I doing to him?
Chapter Nine
~Callum~
This was fucking killing me. Murphy was right. I brought a guy home. I could lie to Declan, I could lie to myself, I could say I’d done it because I had to. But I didn’t. I brought him home because I wanted him here.
My head was a mess, and my heart was worse. If I hadn’t become a priest, I never would have met Declan. Now I was fighting myself over which I wanted more.
“Are you okay?” Declan asked softly, following me into the room and shutting the door behind us. “I can go. I don’t want to make this any more difficult for you or your family.”
“Shut up.” I set the beers on the nightstand and looked at him. He was standing by the door, his hands in his pockets, his gaze locked on the floor. I strode back over to him, my hand pressing against his chest, pushing him back against the door.
His head snapped up, his heart pounding against my palm as his eyes widened, his lips parting.
We stood there, staring at each other, our faces inches apart. It would be so easy. Just one small motion from both of us and the decision would be made.
“Either kiss me or let me go,” he said calmly.
I dropped my hand immediately and stepped back, my gaze lowering to my feet in shame. This wasn’t just about me. He had a future to consider, too. And I don’t think he’d considered the fallout that would happen if we decided to pursue this thing between us.
“I should punch you,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“Seriously Callum. I should deck you right in your stupid face.” He blew out a humorless laugh. “God, why do you keep doing this to me?”
“Are you asking me or him?” I asked, looking up to see a cold, hard expression locked on Declan’s face.
“Both.”
“I don’t think either of us is going to answer you.” I sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” He clenched his jaw. “I have to study.”
“Declan—”
“Stop. Just stop.” He sighed. “Callum, you told me no promises and I told you no pressure. But the only one pressuring here is you. I came here because I want to be here. With you. And I fully understood that we were here as friends. But then you touch me, and you say things and you…You are not the only one struggling with this.”
“I know.” I stepped forward again, keeping space between us but still blocking him against the door. “I know. I’m not doing it on purpose.”
“Yeah. But you’re doing it.” He glared at me. “If you continue to behave like this, then game on. I won’t be the only one in this…whatever this is.” He motioned between us with his hand. “I won’t be the only one who holds up the bargain.”
I watched anger and sadness war for control of his expression, and it broke my heart. He was right. We were both struggling, and I was being unfair.
“The thing is,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper. “If it was actually the priest thing holding you back from me I could take it. I’d take all of it and say please sir may I have another. But it’s not. Is it?”
Damn it. He was a smart kid. He’d probably figured out a lot more than I’d given him credit for a while ago.
“You want to do this now?” I asked him, backing away and walking over to sit on my bed. “You’ve more than earned it.”
“Only if you’re ready,” he said.
I nodded and he walked over, dropping onto the mattress next to me. He let me sit in silence for a minute, trying to gather my thoughts. But everything in my head was so scattered, that wouldn’t happen any time soon.
“I didn’t realize I was gay until I was about twenty-one,” I said, folding my hands in my lap and staring at the floor. “I think everyone else knew, but it just never crossed my mind, really. I was a pretty shy kid, and in this family, literally overshadowed by my brothers.”
“They’re massive,” Declan agreed.
“Yeah.” I laughed and knocked him with my shoulder. “Murphy and I are only eleven months apart, Ronan came a year later then Niall two years after and finally Lizzy. We’re a pretty tight family.”
“They’re great,” Declan said.
“You gonna keep interrupting?” I asked, turning my head to raise an eyebrow at him.
“Only when you need me to,” he confirmed.
“Irish Catholics aren’t that big on homosexuality,” I continued, returning my gaze to my hands. “My family has never been vocal about it, but I can’t imagine my parents would be thrilled to realize their son—”
“And I’m going to stop you again,” he said, shifting on the bed to face me. “Those people love you. My family is great, but the people downstairs love you. And they would love you if you robbed a bank, if you killed someone, or if you fell in love with a man.”
“I know that,” I snapped. “Now, anyway. Back then… Damnit, Declan, I was scared!” I got to my feet and started to pace. “I went to a club one night. Curious, you know? And a guy tried to kiss me.” I blew out a sigh. “I punched him. Knocked him out cold. His friends jumped me and beat the shit out of me.”
“Good,” Declan said, his tone hard.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It was good. And I found him later and apologized. We’re not friends or anything, but we’re friendly at least. He forgave me.” I put my hands in my pockets and rocked on my heels. “But it scared me. The violence. The fact that part of me wanted to kiss him back. So, I ran straight to the church. Never looked back.”
“I was the guy,” Declan said softly.
I looked up at him to see him staring at me, tears pooling in his eyes.
“What?”
“I was the guy that got punched,” he answered. “At my last school. I was hanging out with one of the guys on the team one night. I thought he was throwing me signals.” Declan shrugged. “He was not. He dislocated my jaw with that punch. Then he told the rest of the team.”
I sat next to him again, our thighs touching but didn’t reach for him. Even though I wanted nothing more than to pull him into my arms and hold him.
“The coach tried to make it work,” he continued after a minute. “But the guys wouldn’t shower with me. Would make comments. So, I requested a transfer. I thought if I went to a Catholic college it would be a good place to hide.”
“It was working just fine for me,” I agreed.
“You going to keep interrupting?” he asked, turning his head to look at me, a small smile pulling at his lips.
“Only when you need m
e to,” I promised.
“Did you ever kiss a guy?” he asked.
“No,” I admitted. “Or a girl.”
“Yeah, me either.” He sighed. “Niall was right. We do have a lot in common.”
“You really were talking about me down there?” I asked.
“I told you we were,” he admitted. “So, what now?”
“If I knew the answer to that,” I said, shaking my head. “We wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Are we going to talk about what’s actually holding you back?” he asked. “I told you, if it was just the priest thing this wouldn’t be so difficult. But you ran to the church to hide who you are. That was going to blow up in your face eventually anyway. And I feel like I should apologize that I showed up.”
“Please don’t,” I insisted. “And you’re not wrong. It was going to end eventually. I love the church. And I love God. And I believe in Heaven and Hell and I think what you do here dictates where you go.”
“But you don’t believe God is the sex police,” he said.
“No, I don’t. I believe love is love and even the Pope condones same sex partnerships now, so the church is going to reform eventually.” I tried to avert my gaze from him, but he grabbed my face and turned me back to face him.
“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered. “We’re here now.”
Yeah, we were here. Alone in my room. In my home. Sitting too close. Being too honest. Miles from responsibilities and duties and propriety.
“I don’t deserve you,” I told him finally.
“Isn’t it up to me to decide what I do and do not deserve?” he challenged.
“No. You’re going to be a professional hockey player, Declan McNair. You’ll have millions of adoring fans. You’ll be on sports cards and television. They’ll pay you tens of millions of dollars a year to be a role model to kids.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, smiling. “And I’d like to do all of that with you.”
“You can’t.” I shook my head. “Because you can’t be connected to a disgraced priest and have all the things you’ve worked your entire life for.”
“My personal life is no one’s business,” he said.
“Because that’s how real life works.” I rolled my eyes and stood up again.
