Communion (On My Knees Series Book 3)

by Ella James

  He tries to smile, but he looks nervous.

  “They’re not here for you. That I know of, anyway. You want to stay in the car?”

  “I’ll go in.”

  I leave Eden in her carrier, hauling the heavy thing inside in case there’s someone dangerous in the house and I have to stash her in some closet. Miller and I walk into the hall together, and when we get into the kitchen, I find Steven standing near the bar stools by my father.

  I’m so shocked, I almost drop the baby carrier. Miller can tell, I guess, because he takes the carrier from my hands and walks past me toward the living room. If my brain weren’t frozen in shock, I would laugh at the way Steven looks at Miller. Then Steven’s gaze comes to mine.

  “We let in the wrong car, sir.”

  “Steven, you don’t need to call me sir.”

  My eyes lock onto my father, standing by the oven. He looks like he does on TV, but with wrinkles. There’s some gray around his temples. He’s wearing a gray suit. I hear Eden cry, and I hear Miller murmur to her. My heart feels like it speeds up and slows down at the same time.

  He looks at me. My dad.

  “Vance?” he says, and I say, “That’s me.”

  His eyes look the same as mine. I never really noticed how I do right in this moment.

  “I came…by to see you.” He blinks. I can’t read his face. My lungs feel too tight.

  “Were you in the city?” I hear myself ask him.

  “I drove here. From the East Coast.”

  “What?”

  He steps closer to me, and I notice Steven retreat down the hall, toward the garage door, beyond which is the security room.

  “I wanted to see my son.”

  I run the words through my head two times. My brain isn’t working.

  “I don’t understand.”

  You never thought of me as a son before.

  That’s what I’m going to say, but suddenly, Sky is here. He’s wearing one of the suits I love best, I note as he moves past me, out of the hall and into the kitchen like a shark in water.

  He stops in front of me, looking from me to my father and back to me. He says, “Did you invite him?”

  “It’s my fault,” Steven starts, from down the hall, at the same time my father says, “I came to see Vance—”

  But Luke interrupts them both. “Steven, thank you.” He nods, and it’s clearly dismissive. Then Luke turns to my father.

  “If you’d like to stay at our house beyond this point, we can step into the library.”

  Wait, what?

  “Vance, you want to check on Miller and the baby?”

  His face is expressionless. I feel myself nod.

  I don’t move into the living room, though. I stand right where I am, which is about eight feet from the more casual library, located right behind the living room. So I hear everything that’s said between Luke and my sire…as I used to call him in my own head.

  My mind clings to Luke’s voice as I have a hit of my inhaler. I’m stunned as he says, “If you want to see Vance, you’ll have to see me first. I’m not sure if you’re aware—I’m his husband.”

  “I’m aware,” my father starts.

  “You came to our house to talk with Vance?”

  My father almost literally sputters.

  “It’s been years, right? Many years?” Luke presses.

  There’s another noise that can only be described as a sputter. “I’m gay.”

  My mouth falls open at the same moment that Luke says, “What did you say?”

  “Please don’t share this with the public yet. But I’m gay. Well, the younger people, they might say bisexual. I have a lover—going back years,” my father tells Luke. “Many years. But there’ve also been women. Vance’s mother…she was one of those. To cover my tracks.”

  “You were married,” Luke says, like he doesn’t get it.

  “Well, yes. But she knew I was stepping out on her. For a time, I tried to do that with a woman.”

  What the holy fuckshit is this?

  “I’m not who you need to talk to,” Luke says. “You can tell Vance all this yourself. But hear me on this, Senator: If you say one thing that upsets my husband in his new home, mere days after I married him and promised him a life of all the happiness that I can give him, you’ll be escorted off the premises very quickly.”

  I can’t stay standing for another second, so I walk into the living room. Miller’s eyes are wide. He’s holding Eden against his chest. Our eyes lock. He says, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He gives me a yeah-right look.

  “Me too,” he snickers.

  Luke and my father come in. I hear their footsteps, turn around.

  “Vance. I’m sorry to surprise you. I wanted to get in touch. To talk. Connect.” He says the word like he’s just trying it out.

  “Why now?” I hear myself say.

  “Well, for one, I’m divorced.” Just as I wonder what that has to do with meeting me, he tacks on, “I’m facing up to being…well, I’m gay.”

  “You are?”

  He nods, folding his hands in front of him like a chastised schoolboy. “But this all really happened— Well, it was because of you.”

  “Because of me?”

  Luke comes to stand beside me, wrapping his arm around my back.

  “When you got sent to the hospital,” my father chokes out. “By the car. I felt terrible about…our lack of contact. Kept me up at night, soul-searching. Thinking maybe—” He clears his throat, and I can see he’s as emotional as I am—right before he cuts that off and smooths his face back to a neutral look. “I thought if maybe I had talked to you. Prepared you. Maybe you would have had a life that was more…informed.”

  I don’t mean to scoff so loudly. “I’ve been out for years and years. My life is informed.”

  “Then you’re doing better than me. You inspired me. It made me want to meet you.”

  “But you never did before.” My tone is flat, because I feel no anger right now. Just surprise, and disappointment, I think.

  “Before…I’m so ashamed to say, I mostly just felt bad when I thought of you. Bad about myself. Bad about my lying, my deceptions. It made me feel weak. Furthermore, I didn’t see that you could benefit from any association with me. Your mother—I think she knew my secrets. She was a good woman. I knew she would give you the things you needed.”

  “We were dirt poor,” I tell him. “Half the time. Mom was always stressed about it. Being poor was something that you could have fixed if she was so good, like you say now.”

  He looks down. His shoulders heave as he sucks air in, blows it out. He lifts his head and meets my eyes. “I was a bad man. Selfish. Immoral. Mostly just selfish,” he says, speaking slowly. He sounds thoughtful. “Sometimes it’s easier to just forget something. Than face the music. Face your failures. Your mother, she would write me letters. About you. I asked, and she complied.”

  I feel a jolt of shock, and Sky’s arm tightens around me.

  “She kept it from you, because telling you would mean that you would…expect something. Which I knew I couldn’t give. So she gave me the gift of letting me know how you were doing. I saw you more than once. I think the last time was in a museum. Even then, I didn’t speak to you. I didn’t feel I had the right, by that point. I’m still not sure I do. But I left New York and I started driving. I think I knew by Harrisburg where I was going.” He smiles softly. “I could have—should, I guess, have—called.” He shakes his head and looks down at his shoes for a moment. “I knew you wouldn’t want to see me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Is it not?”

  “I would have told him to tell you no,” Luke says bluntly. “Then he might have advocated for you. Because that’s the kind of man that Vance is. Your son is completely selfless. The most kind, generous person there ever was. You made a big mistake refusing to know him. Avoiding him like a coward.”

  I’m surprised by t
he harshness in Luke’s voice, and by the shame on my father’s face.

  “I’m aware I did.”

  “What did you want to say?” My legs feel weird and sort of weak. I want to sit down, but I won’t because the rest of them are standing.

  “Just what I said,” he says softly. “That I’m proud. That the two of you inspired an old man. I had a mistress for a long time. Got divorced, but still saw women. The whole time, I was…stepping out. Anyway, I’ve ended all that. I’m with my beau and only him now. We may one day…” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter to you. I wanted to introduce myself.”

  He holds his hand out. “I’m Raymond. You have my eyes, your mother’s smile. You’re really…lovely,” he says quietly.

  I can’t speak for the huge lump in my throat.

  “You always were. And your work—simply stunning. I don’t know where that came from, but I have pieces all over my house.”

  “You do?”

  “Oh yes.”

  He gets his phone out. “I have Time in Motion. Light on Windows. Summer When It’s Raining All day. And The Boundary of Desire.”

  My stomach is so topsy-turvy, I feel like I might throw up.

  “Let’s sit down,” Luke says.

  He takes my arm, and we sit on the couch. He wraps his arm around me, and I’m grateful even as I feel like I’m nine years old.

  I’m aware of Miller in the kitchen with a fussing Eden.

  “He might need help,” I say to Luke.

  “The instructions we left Arrow are still on the counter.”

  “Why did you want the art?” I ask…Raymond.

  “To admire it. I feel pride when I look at it. Pride and inspiration. At what you became. You made yourself without a father. My fault.” His eyes well. “But maybe I could be a friend, at least. I can be a good friend. Even if I was a crummy father.”

  “You’re not dead yet,” Sky says. “Maybe you could try to be both.”

  I laugh—unexpected. “Luke.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Rayne. It’s my job to protect you.”

  “You’re a good protector yourself,” my father says. To me.

  “I’m going to pour a drink.” I just can’t handle being in the living room. I pour some of the open merlot while Miller hooks cupcake up with a bottle.

  “Fuck,” I breathe.

  “You all right?”

  I nod. I look down at the floor—and realize why he does it. Sometimes it’s just too hard to be anywhere but in your own emotions.

  “I guess you weren’t kidding,” he says. “You don’t know him?”

  “No,” I whisper. I laugh. “But I think that might be changing.”

  31

  Luke

  Poor Rayne. He’s exhausted by the time his father finally leaves. I can tell he’s in a state of shock. He barely drank that merlot he poured himself, and he looks like he’s in a daze. As soon as the front door shuts, I lead him back toward our bedroom.

  “What about the baby? And the big kid?” he asks me.

  “After this incident, I don’t think Steven will take his eyes off the people who remain in the house. He won’t let Miller hurt Eden.”

  “Who said Miller would hurt her? I was meaning what if they need help.”

  “They let eighth graders work in the church nursery. I think the guy’s got it covered.”

  “I want her.”

  That surprises me a little.

  “You don’t want to rest?”

  “I want to hold her.”

  I nod. “I’ll go get her.”

  “I can go, too,” Rayne says.

  We find Miller in an arm chair in the living room, his body covered with a blanket, and the baby’s wrapped in it—but just her lower body. He’s got pillows propped under his arm so if she moves, it won’t be far.

  “Hot damn,” Vance murmurs.

  Guess we don’t have a monopoly on dad instincts.

  I take a picture with my phone.

  The kid’s eyelids lift open.

  Rayne comes in close, running his hand over the baby’s small back. “Close your eyes,” he tells Miller.

  The kid looks at him for a second, and then he does.

  V and I sit on the couch. I hold out my arm, and he lies his head in my lap.

  “That was weird,” he whispers—so soft I can hardly hear it.

  “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” I say. “You okay?”

  He nods. “I think I am. It was weird but okay.”

  Rayne just holds me for the longest time. Then I sit up more and lay myself partway atop him.

  He moves mouth right by my ear and whispers, “I want to hear about Evermore and your day.”

  The doorbell rings. Rayne sits up. His gaze flies to the clock up on the mantle.

  “Ah, hell.” He gives me a sidelong look and pushes up off the couch, walking toward the front door like he knows who's waiting.

  What fresh hell could this be?

  With a glance at Miller, who's still sleeping with Edey tucked snugly against him, I follow Rayne into the foyer. Where I find him talking with...a woman wearing all black?

  I frown, because she's smiling and V's rubbing his face, smiling through his hand as if they know each other well.

  There's that gut-punch again. I swallow and step forward. The woman's eyes move to my face. "There he is.” She smiles. “The man himself. Or, now that I know your husband, I might say the other McDowell."

  That makes me chuckle. Something about her face and how she says it, with so much appreciation for Vance.

  "You've got that right. I'm just the other McDowell. Vance is the more important of the two of us." I wrap my arm around his lower back, pulling him against me because I crave the feel of him. His warmth and scent. The way he wraps his arm around me, too, and squeezes.

  She smiles. "So V..." She waves, laughing.

  "Oh, um. Right. So, Luke, this is Ollie. He’s from Netflix. And he wants to do a little...thing about us."

  "Thing being a documentary," Ollie says, making an exaggerated nervous face.

  "Ollie, still, right?" Vance asks.

  "Yes. With you guys.” He smiles.

  I think I understand. I give him a reassuring smile. "We can do that."

  "Documentary or pronouns?" Ollie asks.

  I chuckle. "Pronouns are a definite. Documentary is..." I suck in a breath and blow it out and give Rayne a look.

  "How about I give you two a few?” Ollie asks. “I'll sit on the steps while you talk." And at that, he shuts the door and disappears.

  "Fuck." Rayne rubs his face. "I forgot to mention. Ollie is the one who helped me and Eden get away from the burger place. But before that, I met him at the church. He had come to talk to you, but he found my atrium and ended up talking to me. Said he's working on another show right now but wanted to do something about us. Probably in the vein you think."

  "Gay megachurch pastor tries to run the megachurch without getting stabbed by the sharp end of a rainbow flag?"

  "Or run over," V says, straight-faced. Then he snickers, and I shove him lightly.

  "That's not funny."

  He rubs his fingers over the top of his head. "Hey, I've got the scars to laugh about it."

  I pull him close, kissing his warm mouth. When we pull apart, I say, "I guess you do."

  "So what do you think?" he asks.

  "About Ollie?"

  "Yeah. The documentary. Could we talk to him? Just hear what he's got to say?"

  I roll my eyes. "Whatever. You like him? Trust him?"

  Vance nods. "I think he’s good people."

  "If you say so." I wrap my palm around Rayne’s nape and kiss him again, saying another prayer of thanks that he's okay—that he came out of the car ordeal in one piece.

  He kisses me back, running a hand down my abs through my shirt. "I've gotta have that soon," he murmurs.

  Then he's grinning as he adjusts his semi, tucking it up into the waist of his boxer-briefs, and
I'm laughing as I do a similar thing, trying to keep from tenting my pants.

  "I should check on Miller and the baby," I say. "Why don't you let Ollie in, and we'll go to one of the parlors."

  Vance

  I shut the door behind Ollie and arch my brows at Sky babe.

  "Yeah?" I ask him.

  "Yeah." He gives a funny little twist of a smile.

  We just told Ollie we're on board for working on a documentary.

  I arch my brows at Luke again. You sure about it?

  "I'm in," he says. "I'm past hiding. This is who I am, and this is who we are, and this is what we're doing."

  "Fuck yes, it is." I run my hands down his arms from the shoulder down to his forearms, squeezing gently. Sky just told Ollie all about his plans for The Rainbow Initiative, and the various centers and clinics that’ll be under its umbrella, and I'm just fucking wowed by the ambition of it. All this from a man who was still in the closet a few months back.

  "You're amazing,” I tell him. “You know that, right?"

  He smirks, squinting his eyes and screwing up his face. Adorably awkward.

  "Yeah, you fucking are." I kiss his cheek, then wrap my arms around his neck. There's nothing better than the feeling of our chests pressed together. All Sky's warmth and steady weight. He's my gravity.

  "You are," he says, holding me close. He steps back so he's leaned against the foyer's wall, and we go at each other for a second like a couple of horny teenagers.

  "Fuck. I need this," I pant into his mouth.

  "Need it more," he says. But he pulls away. "It was nice of Miller to make the bottle. But we're gonna have to feed her."

  I laugh. "I know. And I want to." I want to hold Little Missy's squishy, huggable, warm little body and see her funny faces. I just also want to fuck my husband.

  "She'll be down soon enough,” I say—both to myself and Luke. “Then we can dive between the sheets."

  "I think you mean into the closet." Sky chortles.

  "As long as Miller seems okay."

  "Why don't I fire up the Nintendo Switch and we'll do a few games—he and I—and you feed Miss Baby and get her down? Then we'll meet up—"