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“Fine, you don’t have to tell me.” He steps closer, and it’s not until then I realize just how much bigger he is than me. I’m forced to tip my head way back to look at him. He lowers his voice. “But I want the two of you to come home with me.”
I lick my dry lips and shake my head again. “We can’t.”
Lifting a hand, he gently pries my arms loose then holds one of my hands. The way his fingers grip mine sends warmth up my arm. Are priests allowed to hold the hand of the opposite sex? The question is ludicrous, even to my own ears. Not even thirty minutes ago, this same priest was getting himself off in a confessional booth. Something tells me the rules no longer apply.
And that makes me feel guilty. I’m the one who lured this man off his righteous path. I should be condemned to hell.
“Please, Jersey. There’s no way I can leave the two of you here. It’s either come home with me, or I stay here with you. I promise you nothing will happen. I don’t know what’s going on, but no one will know you’re with me.” He squeezes my hand.
Unwisely, I take a moment to consider his offer. Food, warm water, and something soft to sleep on sounds really good right about now. I look over at Sam, who’s still sitting on the bed watching us with a wary expression, and take in his disheveled appearance. His clothes are filthy, and his face is smudged with dirt. Oil coats his hair, making it lay flat on his head.
I bring my eyes back to Wesley. I don’t know how much trouble he’ll be in for what we did during confession. Is he even still a priest? Just because he fell off the celibacy wagon, doesn’t mean he’s lost his religious values. I honestly don’t think he’ll tell anyone Sam and I are staying with him.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
The relief that appears on Wesley’s face makes me wonder why he cares so much. I mean, I get that he’s a priest and part of being one is caring for people, but this seems like so much more. The way he looks at me, even the night he almost caught me stealing food from his church, was more intense than simply a member of the clergy worrying over his flock. So what could it possibly be?
He smiles, causing a dimple to pop out on one of his cheeks. That little indent sends flutters to my stomach, and I’m reminded once again of what we were doing in his church not long ago.
“Go grab whatever you need. I’ll wait here.”
His voice shakes me out of my daydream, and I walk around him on shaky legs. I try to smile at Sam as I go to him.
“Who’s that man?” he asks, his eyes darting around me to look at Wesley.
“He’s a priest,” I tell him, getting down to my knees by the bed to start gathering the few belongings we have. Everything should fit into one backpack. “He’s going to let us stay with him for a few days.”
Sam throws the blanket off his legs and scoots to the edge of the mattress. “Are you sure he won’t tell on us?” I bring my eyes to him when I hear the fear in his tone. “I don’t want to go back, Jersey.”
I lean closer to him, keeping my voice low, but adding strength to my words. “You will never go back there, you hear me? I swear on my life, Sam. Nothing or no one will ever hurt you again.” I glance back over at Wesley before looking at Sam again. “Wesley is a friend who’s helping us for a few days. We’re still going to leave as soon as I get enough money.”
He chews on his cheek in a way that kids do when they’re nervous. After a moment, his head moves up and down. “Okay.”
“Grab your books and put them in here.” I hand him the backpack.
I get up and go over to the old desk that’s on the other side of the room. Pulling the bottom drawer all the way out, I shove my hand to the very back and grab the envelope I put there weeks ago. It’s all the money I’ve made so far working the streets. This, along with whatever else I manage to make, will get Sam and me out of town.
Noticing Sam struggling to get up from the mattress, I rush over to help him. Wesley beats me to it. He’s got Sam by both arms, gently helping him get to his feet. The gash on his leg is a lot better, but it’s still pretty sore. Putting weight on it is painful.
Wesley’s eyes drop to Sam’s leg. He can’t see the bandage because he’s wearing a pair of pants, but I know he doesn’t miss the way Sam wobbles and keeps his foot barely on the floor. Wesley looks at me in question, and I stubbornly shake my head.
His eyes narrow slightly, but he thankfully doesn’t question me on the matter.
“I’m Wesley. Or Father Adair if you prefer,” he introduces himself, his hand still on Sam’s arm to make sure he doesn’t fall.
Sam eyes him warily. “Sam.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sam.” Bending down, Wesley grabs the backpack from the mattress and throws it over his shoulder. “Is this everything?”
“Yes.” I stuff the envelope of money in my dress pocket and move to Sam’s other side. Grabbing his arm, I put it over my shoulder. “We’re ready.”
Wesley's eyes move back down to Sam’s leg. “I can carry him,” he offers.
“No thanks,” Sam’s answer comes so fast that it almost makes me laugh.
Wesley jerks his chin up. “Suit yourself.”
He turns and walks toward the door, and Sam and I follow behind.
