Communion (On My Knees Series Book 3)

by Ella James

“Looks like you had some of the chocolate chip cookies,” Rayne says. “That’s good. Water too?”

  “Are you my nurse?” the guy asks. He sounds derisive…or maybe like he’s joking. I can’t tell since I don’t know him. I make a mental note that he also sounds Southern.

  Vance says, “Nah, man. Just checking in. You have a nightmare? Or you just upset?”

  The guy lets out a loud breath. “Nightmare. I’m not upset.” Now he sounds defensive.

  “Okay. I guess you met Luke.”

  “Not really.”

  “He’ll probably be back in just a second.”

  “I don’t care if he is,” the kid says, and I can breathe again because…yeah—nothing weird is going on here. Of course it’s not.

  “Yeah?” I smile at how puzzled Rayne sounds. Even in a situation like this, he’s the cutest, sweetest human this world has to offer. “You wanna tell me anything about how you wound up in the hall last night?” Rayne asks. “What sorta things brought you to our house? I don’t know if you noticed, it’s kinda hard to get in.”

  “Yeah. I noticed.”

  There’s another silence. I can imagine the guy looking down at his lap so he doesn’t have to look into Rayne’s painfully kind eyes. I know something about that.

  “You come to talk to Pastor Luke?” Vance asks.

  Maybe the young guy shakes his head; all I know is he doesn’t answer with words.

  Then I hear another soft sigh. “Sorry to trouble both of you. I’m ready to get going now.”

  “Now, wait. I’ve got more than one objection to that. First” —Rayne sounds like a professor— “your threads need a good wash. And you might want to take a shower. Second, I’m a dad now, kid. I’m feeling more like a dad than I ever would have thought I could. And you’re not a kid, but to me you sort of are. Don’t come at me with the arguments about nineteen or being working-aged…or college-aged. Whatever. You can’t buy liquor, so that makes you a kid in my book. We here at Casa de McDowell are about helping kids. Or young adults, or whatever. Especially gay ones. I don’t know if you’re gay, and it’s not really my business, but if you are gay…” I can almost see V’s face, the eyebrows lifted, his eyes wide with good humor. “This here is the fucking jackpot.”

  “You’ve got terrible language,” the kid says bluntly. I grin, wishing I could see his face. Is he giving Rayne a judgy face? Because that would be epic.

  “Yeah, you know what?” Rayne says. “I don’t think God gives a rat’s ass. Don’t go telling Luke that, though. We wanna show respect, yeah?”

  “Do you, though?” the guy asks.

  “Do I show respect? To God or Luke?”

  The guy laughs. “Either one of them.”

  “My respect, my business. Listen, I’ve been working on the four-letter words but it’s not easy. Speech is dull without them.”

  “Hell yeah to that.” I lean my head against the door. This guy is trying to sound cool. I’m pretty sure he is. I bet he wants to impress Rayne babe. Even with his shorter hair and pricey threads, my guy still looks a little grunge and a lot sexy. I wonder if the kid is gay, but then the baby cries, and I’ve got to hurry down the hall without making noise, so Vanny and his college kid guest can’t hear me.

  I find Little Miss squalling, her face all red—and that’s because she’s doing funny business. It takes me a while to do the diaper, due to the fact that babies are all squish and squirm and fuss, and this one is sassy because she wants a bottle.

  “We’re gonna feed you, little lamb. Just hold your horses.”

  Negative five for the nonsensical animal analogies, McDowell.

  Then we’re out in the hall, and I catch a glimpse of V and his friend heading into the living room.

  This is going to be interesting.

  For the next ten minutes, I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone. Vance sees Eden eating her hand and whips up a bottle while I try to make small-talk with this random dude, whose name I still don’t know. I’m trying to strike the right balance between acting like Pastor Luke and also a little of possessive husband, but also welcoming older brother, possibly gay mentor?

  The guy is sitting at our breakfast table, mostly looking at the table itself. But when he gives murmured replies to something Rayne or I say, his voice is low and strong and normal.

  The kid is…I don’t even know how to assess him. I think he looks unwell. His face is somber in a way I seldom see in healthy people…like he just found out he has some fatal illness. But it’s odd because when I catch glimpses of him—when the kid looks away, or down, and I get in a quick stare—I realize he’s in solid shape.

  Not like I’m thirsting for the kid, but just…he’s well-worked out. Maybe too well. He’s got a lot of muscle and almost no fat. Which makes me think he must have been okay till recently, and sometime in the last few weeks, he fell into a less-than-ideal situation. Maybe got kicked out of his house? I decide that’s what he looks like: like he’s missed a few meals.

  Rayne is trying to get some information out of him—I can tell—but the dude won’t take the bait. He gives generic answers. Vanny passes me the bottle and Eden latches onto it. Rayne and the kid start talking again, and I’m pretty sure I see the kid swipe at some hair that’s not in front of his forehead. Did he just shave his hair short? I dyed mine dark last night, so I feel him.

  I listen as Vance talks about the house itself, and how we came into possession of Eden, and bad press. He gets the young guy to say he’s finished with high school and is supposed to be at college right now. Which is a feat, because the kid has got his personal information in a death grip. The kid also says he’s never had a younger sibling, so I guess that’s something for the info chart.

  Just as Little Miss is nodding off, I pass her off to Vance.

  I sit down at the table, just across from the kid. “What’s your name again, kid?”

  His lips twitch—and even that looks sad. “I’m not a kid,” he says. His eyes, down on the table, lift to meet mine.

  Whew…that gets me right behind the sternum. I keep staring. He keeps staring. There’s a sort of blankness in his gray eyes—almost lifelessness. He looks so bleak.

  I hear myself say, “Maybe not.”

  He looks down again. When he looks back up, he seems more self-possessed than he has yet.

  “I want to ask you something,” he says.

  I’m surprised when my pulse beats off rhythm.

  “Me?”

  He smirks. “No, the other person at the table.”

  “Hey, I’m back here.” I glance over my shoulder, finding Rayne smiling one of his lovable Rayne smiles.

  “Not you,” the guy says quietly. His gaze returns to my face. “Can I ask the question in private?”

  There’s something in his voice—a subtle note of unsteadiness—that makes me feel nervous.

  “I don’t see why not,” I manage. “Let me have a word with Vance first, okay?”

  Vance and I step into the living room, and I tell Rayne to go into the security room and be sure that the cameras in the living room are turned on, with the more sensitive volume setting.

  “Then bring me a sparkling water from the overflow pantry.”

  Vance nods. He gets me. I want to record everything that happens, just in case this dude is setting me up or something. I’d hate to think he was, but lately there’s a lot of things I hate about life.

  Rayne leaves the living room before me. I sit in it for two minutes or so. Then I get up and move back into the breakfast nook, just by the kitchen.

  The kid is staring straight ahead, looking somewhat vacant—or maybe stoic, like he’s bracing for something.

  I see Rayne moving toward us down the narrow hallway, holding my can of sparkling water, and I wave the guy toward the living room.

  “You want to come in here? I’m going to grab this drink from V, and then he and the baby will go do some other stuff.”

  The guy stands up.

  “You kn
ow, I don’t think you told us your name yet.”

  He wipes a palm on his pants. “Miller,” he says, sounding nervous.

  “Okay, Miller. Let’s go sit by the fire. It’s a gas fireplace,” I tell him, trying to soothe his nerves with chit-chat. “V has never lived somewhere with a gas fireplace, so he’s charmed and wants it on all the time.” I quirk a brow up at him. “Hope you’re not warm-natured.”

  “No,” he mumbles. He sits on the love seat, and I sit in a nearby armchair.

  Vanny and baby pass through the room, and he winks when Miller looks down. I can tell from the tension on his face that he’s probably not going to leave the area. He’ll likely be just around the corner, in the bedroom hall, watching the living room cam on his phone.

  I let thirty seconds or so pass, so the kid thinks that V is out of ear shot. Then I say, “You have the floor, kid.”

  Vance

  Listening to Sky talk to Miller nearly breaks me. I can tell it nearly does Sky in, too, because he’s wiping his eyes freely after a point.

  I’ve spent the last almost two weeks thinking about what McD will be like as a dad. And now I know. Toward the end of the hour and a half the two of them spend talking, Sky’s moved to the love seat beside Miller, and he’s got his arm around the guy.

  Sky gives him a long, hard hug and says some nice shit. I can barely hear Miller—his voice is low and raspy, too soft even for our pretty damn good audio recorders—but I know he must have lost his shit, too, because he’s wiping at his eyes with his arm.

  I watch Sky’s hand on his shoulder. It’s firm but gentle, not too personal…but also clearly comforting.

  Miller says a few more things I can’t hear without turning up the volume on the security cam app, and Sky says, “We can talk more. And we should. You think you’re okay with that?”

  The guy nods.

  “Thanks for telling me that stuff,” the kid says. He straightens his shoulders and breathes deeply, like he’s trying to collect himself.

  “I’ve never shared some of that with anyone but Vance,” Sky tells him, “but I’m here for you.”

  The guy sniffs as he wipes his eyes again. He nods.

  “How about a shower? I’ll call Vance and he can grab you some spare clothes. And Miller, listen. I’ll tell you something.”

  The guy’s attention fixes on Luke, as does mine, as he says, “V’s a crier.”

  “What?” The kid laughs.

  “Vance is like a perfect peach,” Sky tells him. I suppress a soft scoff. “He’s tough, just tough enough, but he’s a soft one at the same time. Good and…gentle. Men can be gentle. There’s nothing wrong with that. To have a tender heart can be the healthiest thing.”

  Werk it, Sky babe.

  This is shit that’s tough for him, but he’s spitting it to the young dude like he’s all on board. I wonder if that’s basically what it is to be an adult: reassuring younger people about things you’re not even sure about yourself. But…out of love. The desire to protect and reassure them.

  Little Missy stirs against me, and I realize the poor thing is sweaty from being mashed against my pecs for more than an hour. As for me, my back is aching from the strange position I adopted leaning on the wall. At first, I wanted to be within arms’ reach if something went sideways and the young guy went nuts. Later, when the audio wasn’t working well, I was trying to hear their voices through the hall-living room wall.

  Now, I pull myself away, walking quietly down the hall and into our room. I buckle Eden into a swing we put at the foot of our bed, since she’s awake but not overly so. Then I find some clothes for Miller.

  He’s about my height and build, so I grab a beige shirt with a brown stripe horizontally across the pecs and olive green sweat pants, plus a new pack of underwear.

  I intersect the two of them in the hall and hand the clothes to Miller before heading to the bedroom to watch Little Miss swing. I lie on the floor until she fusses, and I realize she can’t see me.

  “What a smart critter. You wanna see the adult taking care of you? The Daddy?” I whisper, and grin at how weird it is. I’m still crooning at her when Sky steps into the room.

  He walks over to us, crouching down beside the baby. “Man,” he says, shaking his head. “Did you listen?”

  I nod, and my eyes well—unexpected as always, even when it shouldn’t be.

  “That was some heavy shit, Sky.” I have to swallow so my voice won’t crack. “You did a good job.”

  “Do you think so?” He lets out a long breath, gives another shake of his head. “I just…had no idea. Even what to say. I wasn’t sure,” he admits.

  I nod. “Yeah. I thought everything you said was solid. I know talking must have helped him. What else do you think we can we do?”

  He shakes his head and blows a breath out, clearly angsty. “I told him to stay. That I’d keep talking if he wants to. He won’t tell me where he’s from. He’s” —Sky grits his teeth— “scared, I guess. Which makes me want to punch things.”

  “I know. Me too.”

  “Let’s watch the hall cam on my phone to be sure he’s good and he doesn’t bolt or something,” Luke says. “I want to tell you about some plans I have. And why it’s so weird that he showed up with a need like this, at this particular time…”

  29

  Luke

  “So…that comprehensive, huh?” Rayne’s brows are arched up toward his hairline.

  I nod, making a funny face down at Eden, who’s laid out on my legs, atop a pillow, while the three of us sit on the living room couch.

  “Yeah.” I meet Rayne’s ocean blue eyes. “Do you think it sounds like too much?”

  “No way. Not at all. It seems logical, too. People are either on board or they’re not, you know? This is clearly not an issue people feel ho-hum about. If they’re not on board, let this prompt them to just go. Find another church. If they are on board, let’s not half-ass it ourselves,” Vance continues. “Let’s let the church do its job. Be a sanctuary.”

  “People would never fail to equate Evermore with gay rights. You know some of them will say we’ve gone all ‘liberal’ with these kinds of causes.”

  Rayne gives me such strong side eye, it makes me chuckle.

  “Pastor McDowell,” he drawls. “Does Evermore give a shit about politics?”

  I shake my head.

  “Are you a politician or a preacher?”

  “Definitely not a politician.”

  He arches a brow, as if to ask if I’m a preacher.

  “I’m a preacher,” I say somewhat grudgingly.

  “It’s your job to house the houseless, feed the foodless, take care of people who need it. If you need to back yourself up, remind people of the message, do some sermons.” He winks.

  Still, I can’t help thinking of the spitting electrician who said I’m biased.

  I nod. I can either do it, or don’t. I can stay at Evermore or leave. It really is that simple. In the last few days, it’s really seemed like the board’s with me. If they are, why would I leave? Isn’t that the same as running away? Why start over with a new church when I could just transform this one?

  “What’re you thinking?” Vance asks quietly.

  “Nothing. Just…you’re right on all that. I either have to be in or out. And that was what I was thinking when I had this idea. Actually, I was rebutting some jerkoff from the Southern Baptist Convention. But…that’s the bottom line: It’s in or out. Why stick around and restrict my own movement? Why hold back from work I know is needed, and would help people?”

  Rayne nods. He lifts a shoulder. “That’s what I’m thinking. Anyway, supporting these causes will align you with other people who might want to fund-raise together. Or help in some other way.”

  Damn, my boy is up on his philanthropy.

  I flash a big grin his way.

  “Shut up.” His face pinkens up a bit. “I know I sound like a poser.”

  “You sound like my favorite person.” />
  He smiles, and he looks so happy that my chest goes heavy.

  That’s when Miller steps into the room. He’s wearing some of Vanny’s clothes, and he looks pretty near to brand new with his damp hair and clean face. I hadn’t realized he had some stubble going till this moment, when I can tell he’s shaved it off.

  His gaze sweeps us, and he puts his hands into his pockets. He looks young and wary…maybe a touch embarrassed.

  V smiles, breaking the ice. “That fits almost perfect. I thought we were about the same size.”

  Miller lifts his dark brows, looking decidedly awkward. But he polices his expression, giving Rayne a polite smile.

  "Thanks for the borrow."

  "Yeah, no problem."

  "Why don't you sit down," I tell Miller. I stand up before he can, and hold out Eden. "Want to hold a baby?"

  "Umm."

  Vance laughs. "Sky."

  I look at Miller. "That's my nickname. It's short for Skywalker, like in the movies."

  "Star Wars," Miller murmurs.

  "Yep."

  I look to Rayne, who scoops Eden out of my hands but then nods from Miller to the couch. "Sit down,” Vance says. “I want you to smell her."

  Miller laughs. "What?" He's looking at Vance like he’s crazy, but he’s got a big grin on his face now.

  "She smells like the baby products say they will. You know, the baby lotion? That comes in the pink bottle? She's got a scent, man. Like flowers and unicorns or some…such something."

  He was going to say “some shit.” I smirk, noting that he censored himself for the kid.

  Miller's looking nervous but amused as Vance sets a throw pillow on his lap. "Don't be awkward," Vance warns, grinning. "Everybody's equally unqualified to hold a baby. They're like little animals...flopping all around. It's not easy. That's why we have the pillow. And your very usable arm here."

  The guy gives a soft snicker.

  "Hey, it’s better than unusable, like my arms. This is gonna be a breeze for you,” Rayne teases.

  Damn—that reminds me that poor V needs to see another doctor for his painful shoulder. I frown over at him, wondering why he didn't mention the post-surgery elbow being "unusable" to me.