Page 62 of Priest

My jeans get real uncomfortable real fast. “You make noises like that, sweetheart, and we won’t be talkin’.”

She glares at me over her plate. “Let’s get this over with so you can get the hell out of here. What is it you came to say?”

Now it’s my turn to squirm.

I clear my throat and brace both hands on the counter because it’s either that or reach for her. “I think we got some wires crossed.”

“Some wires crossed, huh?”

“Yeah. You said you thought Sadie’s baby was mine.”

“I heard your conversation in the office,” she cuts in, voice steady but sharp underneath. “I followed you. Like a fool. Sadie looked back at me, had this glint in her eye, and I knew she was up to something. I knew I shouldn’t follow. Knew I wouldn’t like what I heard.”

She looks right at me, and there’s no vase in her hand now, no book, nothing she can throw except the truth.

“But I did anyway.”

My chest tightens.

“I heard her tell you she was pregnant. How she knew you didn’t want babies. How you said you’d take care of her and the baby. How she asked about me.” Her voice drops, and that hurts worse than the shouting. “How you said I didn’t matter. That I knew the deal.”

I drag a hand down my face. “Goddammit.”

“I showed you exactly how much I knew the deal,” she continues quietly. “I was already on my way out when you came out and announced your baby to the club.”

“Where do I even start unpackin’ all that shit,” I mutter, then force myself to look at her because I owe her that much. More than that. “First off, Sadie set you up. Every word of it. And she’ll answer for that.”

Her spine goes rigid.

“She’s pregnant with Ace’s baby,” I say. “That’s my niece or nephew. I said I’d take care of them outta loyalty. Outta guilt. Not desire. I wouldn’t touch her if she were the last woman on earth and we needed to repopulate.”

She doesn’t soften.

“Second,” I say, quieter now, “yeah. I said you knew the deal. And I was lyin’ to myself when I said it.”

The confession drags up everything I’ve buried under rules and distance and the kind of control men like me pretend is strength. I swallow hard, but it doesn’t make the words any easier. It just makes them hurt more on the way out.

“I made rules to protect myself. From fallin’. From losin’ people. From wantin’ something bad enough that it could gut me if it walked away.” I look at her then, really look, because if I’m going to bleed, I might as well do it facing the woman who cut me open without ever touching a blade. “And then you happened. You walked into my life with those eyes and that mouth and that spine made of steel, and I broke every damn rule before I even admitted I wanted to.”

Her fingers tighten around her fork.

“The minute I noticed you were gone, it felt like all the air got sucked outta the room. Like the lights went out and I was staring into a bottomless void.” My voice lowers. “I didn’t understand it then. Or maybe I did, and I was too much of a coward to name it.”

She doesn’t move.

“If I’m bein’ honest,” I say, the words rough enough to scrape, “I think I fell for you the first time I looked into those deep blue ocean eyes of yours.”

The room goes still.

She doesn’t answer.

Not yet.

For a second, all I can hear is the soft hum of the kitchen and the beat of my own heart trying to climb out of my chest. Then she finally looks at me. Really looks.

“Fine,” she says, voice calm in that way that means she’s already made a decision. “That explains that. You didn’t cheat with Sadie.”

My chest loosens just a fraction.