I shoved the thought down and climbed out of bed. My depth perception was still wrong, making me misjudge the distance to my duffel bag. I overreached and nearly fell, catching myself on the dresser.
Lorenzo was there immediately, steadying me. "Easy."
"I'm fine." But I let him guide me, let his hand stay on my lower back while I dug through my bag for clean clothes. The simple domesticity of it made my chest ache. Getting dressed together. His hand on my back. Normal couple things that seemed precious when we might not get another chance.
I pulled on black cargo pants and a dark shirt while Lorenzo donned the same. He finished dressing first and turned to find me standing there, not moving toward the door.
"You need a minute?" he asked quietly.
I nodded.
Lorenzo crossed to me and cupped my face, kissing me gently. "Take all the time you need. I'll be downstairs."
He left, closing the door behind him.
The last time I'd prayed, really prayed, I'd been on my knees in the catacombs beneath the Vatican with my father's blood under my nails and rage burning through my chest.
God and I hadn’t really been on speaking terms since, but there was something about facing my own death that drove me to my knees in that Montana bedroom.
God, I started.I don't know if You answered me that day in the catacombs. Maybe You did, and I was too angry to hear it. Maybe silence was the answer. Maybe You were waiting for me to stop screaming long enough to listen. But I'm not angry anymore.
I still don't understand why my mother had to die or why Gabriel drowned or why You let all the terrible things happen to good and innocent people. But I'm not asking for explanations anymore. I'm not demanding You justify Yourself to me.
Rain drummed against the windows. The sound blurred, and I realized my vision had gone wet.
I think maybe I needed all of it to get here. To this moment. To him.
I reached up to rub the burning from my eyes and found them wet.
I don't think I would have chosen Lorenzo if I hadn't lost everyone else first. I don't think I would have been brave enough to leave the Church if Azevedo hadn't been a monster. I don't think I would have learned what real love was if Constantine hadn't tried to destroy us both.
I wiped my face with my palm, but more tears replaced them immediately.
So, I'm not asking for forgiveness for loving him. I'm not apologizing for choosing him over everything the Church taught me was holy. Because loving him feels like the first true thing I've ever done. The first choice that was really mine.
My shoulders shook. I pressed my hands harder together, trying to hold myself steady.
He saved me. Not because he had to. Not because anyone ordered him to. But because he chose me too. This broken, angry, half-blind mess who spent years killing for an institution that would have hanged him without a second thought. Lorenzo looked at all of that and decided I was worth fighting for.
A sob tried to claw its way up my throat. I swallowed it down.
And now we're walking into a labyrinth where one or both of us might die, and I can't, I CAN'T lose him. Not when I just learned what it feels like to be loved. Not when I finally understand what my mother and father had before grief destroyed them.
The tears were coming faster now. My chest ached like something was splitting open inside it.
Please.The word was a whisper, a breath, a prayer more desperate than anything I'd ever said in a confessional.Please keep him safe. Whatever happens in that labyrinth today, let him survive. He's been through enough. Lost enough. Suffered enough. He deserves peace. Deserves a future. Deserves everything I want to give him but might not live long enough to.
If one of us has to die today, let it be me. I've already had more than I deserved. More than I ever thought I'd get. Lorenzo gave me that.
But please, please let him live. Let him have the years I won't get to give him. Let him wake up in the morning and not have to fight. Let him feel safe. Let someone love him the way he deserves to be loved, even if it can't be me.
The sobs were coming now, and I couldn't stop them. My whole body shook with the effort of keeping them quiet, of not letting Lorenzo hear me falling apart through the floorboards.
I love him, I confessed to God.I love him more than I've loved anything. More than the Church. More than my vocation.More than my own life. And I don't know if that's holy or sinful or somewhere in between, but it's true and it's mine and it's the only real thing I've got.
So please. Don't take him from me. Not yet. Not when we just found each other. Not when we just figured out what this could be.
I wiped my face again. My hands came away wet, and I stared at them, at the scars across my palms where Constantine's nails had driven through.
