Page 115 of For I Have Sinned

“You don’t think I’m hot?”

I playfully poke at his chest and say, “You are the hottest priest I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s because all the other priests you’ve met were old.” He laughs.

“Not true. I mean Father Kea—” My words die on my tongue when I hear a noise from the hall. Turning my head to the door, I listen closely to the voices that I start hearing. “Father Keaton.”

“I mean, I guess Father Keaton is good-looking for his age, but we established that he is an awful person,” he says, oblivious to the fact that the man we are talking about is out in the hall.

“No, Alex.” I look back at him, dropping my voice into a whisper. “Father Keaton is in the hall, talking to someone.”

His head whips toward the door, and his eyes widen when he hears them. He nudges me off his lap, and we both are at his bedroom door, naked, with our ears pressed against the wood. The conversation is faint since they are at the other end of the hall, and I can’t make out the second voice.

“Do you think it’s Joanna?” I ask, removing myself from the door.

Alex presses his whole body to the door as if it would help him hear better. “I think it’s Sister Alice.”

“Why are they talking this late at night?” My lip curls in disgust. “You don’t think they are⁠—”

His expression matches mine. “I don’t even want to imagine that.”

I open my mouth to say something, but stop when I realize the voices have ceased in the hall. I press my ear against the door again and listen for anything, and when I hear footsteps growing louder, my fear grows stronger.

A loud knock at the door causes my body to freeze and after a moment of silence, Father Keaton says, “Your light is on, Father Alexander. I know you are awake.”

Alex keeps quiet, pure panic drawn on his face. And the next words that leave Father Keaton’s mouth have my heart stopping.

“And I know Celine is in there.”

Chapter 36

Father Alexander

With my eyes on Celine, I watch the color drain from her face after hearing Father Keaton say her name. Her throat bobs as she swallows and looks at me for some sort of direction on what to do.

“Get dressed,” I whisper to her.

She quietly, but quickly, moves across the room to grab her nightgown. She slips it on as I am stepping back into my pajama pants. By the time I throw on a sweatshirt, Celine is dressed and has finished fixing her hair the best she could without a mirror.

She glances at me and mouths, “What do we do?”

I walk over to her, pressing my palms to her cheeks, and ask, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she responds without hesitation.

There is no time to tell her that we are going to face him head-on. What is the point of hiding when he clearly knows what is happening? Not only because of him announcing that he knows Celine is in my bedroom, but also from the dickhead comments he made to her while I was away.

With a subtle nod, I kiss her forehead and move to open the door. The tension in the room thickens while fear and anticipation clog the air. My chest is tight, and I attempt to inhale a deep breath, but my lungs only expand slightly, not allowing me to gather enough air to breathe. My entire body feels like it’s been lit on fire, and the way the heat is consuming me is unbearable. As if I am burning alive.

I try my best to ignore the burning sensation and twist the door handle. It swings open, Father Keaton standing there in black pajama pants with a matching long-sleeved shirt. His hands are clasped together behind him, and his eyes leave mine to look over my shoulder.

For a moment, I feel like a teenager getting caught by his parents with a girl in his room. But instead of getting grounded for breaking the rules, there is much more at stake.

“Father Keaton,” I say his name to get his attention away from Celine. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” His eyes slowly find mine. “But I already know the answer to that.”

The way he is staring at me is as if he is waiting for me to tell him it’s not what it looks like, but he isn’t going to get that response from me.