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Was he some sort of perverted sex addict? Nathan didn’t seem to think so. Neither did Julian for that matter, or anyone else who lived an alternative lifestyle. But Luke worried it was consuming him—this constant need to fuck and be fucked in every way possible. That’s all it was with Nathan and Olivia. His own living porn. Right?

Perhaps that wasn’t it either. He’d grown so fond of both of them that he wanted to be with them all the time. Not even strictly sexually. Sometimes he wanted to simply hang with them, eat, watch TV, sleep. They had done that together. And it felt comfortable in a way nothing in his life ever had. But neither of them had really slipped into a role with Luke that didn’t involve fucking. Right? He’d hurt their feelings when he’d insinuated as much at his office that day, but how much of it was true? Had he given them a chance really? A chance to prove they could be his everything? Wasn’t it his own fault they hadn’t connected on a deeper level because he’d kept them at arm’s length? He’d built a wall around himself that sheltered him from the world. They didn’t ask about the difficult things in his life, but was it because they were trying to protect him from that? He told Olivia they’d talk after, but before they could, he’d used his out clause word.

A chill raced down his spine. Tears fell down his cheeks. It was entirely possible he’d sabotaged the relationship all by himself by not giving Nathan and Olivia a chance to be what he needed. Instead, he’d chewed them out for not caring, barged into their home, and demanded intense sex. How could he blame them? He was an emotional mess.

He traced his fingers along his mother’s name. “Do you understand what it’s like? Do you understand what it’s like to know you could disappear and it wouldn’t make a goddamn bit of difference to anyone?”

His gut clenched. Nathan and Olivia. He’d let them go. He’d used his out clause, and they were true to their words and didn’t fight. No questions asked. Just Nathan’s strange story about nearly dying and knowing who he was supposed to be, and Olivia’s face full of so much sorrow Luke thought he’d never forget it.

“It would make a difference to me,” a voice said from behind him. Father George. Holding a handful of white lilies. “I missed you when you stopped attending church. I would miss you if you disappeared.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I expect. I came to talk to your mom. Six months to the day. We must have had the same thought. The last time you and I spoke, it didn’t go so well, so I thought your mom might help me.” Father George shrugged.

“She can’t help either of us,” Luke choked out. “No one can help me.”

“I can.”

Luke shrugged. “That’s your job. You’re supposed to help. I wish…”

“What?”

“I wish someone would help because they wanted to. Because they thought I was worth it.”

Father George placed the flowers on his mother’s grave and turned to Luke, taking a seat on the grass next to him. “I do want to help. And not because it’s my job. Because you’re worth something to me. You always have been.”

Luke blinked.

Father George looked toward the gravestone. “She didn’t want me to say anything. She was right, of course. It was a choice for both of us and nothing I could blame her for.”

Luke’s heart thrummed in his chest. “A choice? What are you talking about?”

“I met your mom in seminary. Before I took my final vows. We were…well, I loved her. I almost left it all for her. But I was called. I couldn’t… God, the church, they needed me more.”

“More than what?”

Father George turned his gaze on Luke. “More than you.”

Luke’s breath stalled out. Spots formed in front his vision as pieces locked themselves into place in his brain. “I’m…? You and my mom?”

Father George nodded. “Yes. You’re my son. I’ve always looked out for you. I’ve always done the best I could for you. The most I could, without drawing attention. Your mom didn’t want that for you or her.”

Luke couldn’t believe it. He froze momentarily before a lance of anger speared through him, launching him to his feet. “Or you.
You
didn’t want to deal with having a son. You took vows of chastity. How would that look to the rest of the church? This had nothing to do with me or my mom. You fumbled, you strayed, you went off the path that God had intended for you. Isn’t that what you said to me? That Nathan and Olivia weren’t part of God’s plan?”

“Luke…” Father George rose, looking a hundred years old suddenly.

“No. You’re a hypocrite. Where the hell were you when Mom’s organs were shutting down on her?”

“I saw her in the hospital.”

“Bullshit. You visited once. I was there every single day. I watched my mom die and prayed, like you always told me, for God to give her some relief. Then I prayed for God to give me the same relief. Relief from this shitty life. From the loneliness that practically swallowed me whole. So
no
. I don’t think I need to hear your excuses or your explanations. I’m good. Have a nice life.”

Father George released a sob, but Luke couldn’t find it in him to care. His entire body was infused with anger. Father George was his father, and had left him and his mom on their own for years. Luke grabbed his bike and raced home, falling through his door and onto his bed before breaking into deep convulsing tears.

He’d lost everything. He’d given up everything that mattered to him over a guilt he carried for the church. And it turned out the priest he’d always believed to be the holiest person he knew had slept with his mother. Fuck fuck fuck. The man he looked up to for answers was his father?

Luke was trapped. Broken, alone, in so much pain, and with no one in the world to go to for help. One stupid word to Nathan and Olivia, and he’d lost everything.

•●•

Luke couldn’t function. He called in sick to work and spent hours lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. Not only had he given up the only people he’d cared about in a long time, but he no longer felt right about returning to the church. He spent Sunday lying in this same spot, trying not to let his guilt eat at him. He couldn’t face Father George. His dad? He couldn’t even swallow that information. Everything in his life was a jumbled mess running around inside his head and driving him mad.

A knock at the door made him flinch. No one ever came to see him. And he didn’t want to face any of the possible choices. Not even Kathryn. Her knowledge about his twisted relationship status made him cringe.

The knocking continued.

Luke rolled to face the wall.

But the visitor was determined. A third set of knocks landed on his door, louder, more insistent.

Finally, Luke heaved himself off the bed and padded to the front of his apartment.

When he opened the door, he indeed found one of the four possible guests he didn’t want to talk to standing in the threshold. Father George.

“Luke. May I come in? Please.” His voice was low, controlled.

“I don’t see what else there is to say.”

“I do.”

Luke rolled his eyes and stepped back. “Fine, but make it quick. I was taking a nap.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to be rude to the priest even under these extreme circumstances. The man had never really done anything to Luke except try to help.

Father George sat on the edge of Luke’s ratty couch. “First of all, I want to say I’m sorry for the way I handled things the other day.”

Luke plopped into the chair across from the priest and said nothing.

Father George swallowed and wiped his hands on his pant legs. Luke had never seen him that nervous. “Listen. I said some things that in retrospect might not have been very helpful to you. I want you to know that in spite of the teachings within the Catholic faith, you’re a child of God, and I believe in my heart God loves you no matter what.

“I also love you, both as a priest and as a father.”

Luke glared at him, unwilling to participate in this speech. He didn’t want to give Father George the satisfaction of thinking he’d turned Luke to his way of thinking. He was all out of politeness.

“I have a suggestion. I know you’re angry with me, and confused in general. I can see this relationship you’ve developed with those two is tearing you apart. And I feel partly to blame for it. I don’t think tossing away something that important to you in the name of religion is a healthy choice.”

Luke sat up straighter. What was Father George trying to say?

“I think you need to work it out, with them, I mean. If you don’t, you’ll always have regrets, and you’ll hate me for being the catalyst that steered you down this path. Even though I don’t agree with your choices, it doesn’t change the fact that I care about you enough to recognize you need to figure things out on your own.”

“What are you saying? I can’t possibly continue to attend services at St. Jude’s while engaging in behaviors you consistently remind me are immoral.”

Father George took a deep breath. “I know. That’s why I think you should leave the church.”

“What?” Now Luke leaned forward. What kind of a priest would suggest such a thing?

Father George lifted a hand and continued. “I’m not speaking to you as a parishioner now, I’m speaking as your friend. Someone you’ve known for a long time, who has watched you grow and struggle and become the man you are. It’s time to leave the Catholic Church. There are many other Christian denominations, and some of them are far more open and affirming. I think you would find you don’t have to give up God entirely while you examine this side of yourself. As much as I hate to say this, I don’t believe it’s an either-or type of thing. What matters most is your relationship with God. Above all else. You have to get yourself right with God, not with me.”

Luke was stunned.

Father George nodded. “Please. Try another church. Maybe they’ll meet your spiritual needs better than I can. Particularly in light of the fact that I’d like to continue to have a relationship with you, even just as a friend.”

Father George glanced down at his lap. “I’m so sorry, Luke. For so many things. You mother never wanted you to know. And perhaps it was selfish of me to tell you, but I couldn’t stand to see you in such pain thinking you were alone in this world. You are not alone. I know I can never be the kind of father you want, nor have I ever been, but I love you deeply, and I want you to be happy and healthy. I hope one day we can be close again. It might take a while, but I’ll always be there for you, day or night.

“I won’t hound you anymore. Know I’m here. Come to me when you’re ready.”

Luke couldn’t speak. He nodded.

Father George stood and patted Luke on the shoulder. He paused for a moment and then left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Does my ass look big in this?” Olivia said, twirling in front of Nathan in a flared skirt and tight black camisole.

“Your ass is perfect. Stop fishing for compliments. You know your ass is perfect.”

Olivia nibbled her bottom lip. “Luke wouldn’t care if I were fishing.”

Nathan shook his head. “He used the out-clause word, baby. I miss him too, but we at least need to give him some time.”

“
Coño. Estoy picado
. Ticked off, I tell you. You and your out clause. Why did you even give it to him?”

Nathan raked a hand through his hair. He’d developed the habit over the past few days. She was worried he’d start going bald if he didn’t cut it out. “I know you’re ticked off. But I thought he needed it. I gave it to him as a sign of trust. I didn’t think he’d freak out and use it the first time he had a cock in his ass.”

“Stupid,” Olivia said. “It wasn’t the cock in his ass. It was everything else. We never should have let him come in here and demand sex. We should have talked. We should have gotten to know him, helped him stop worrying so much.”

“I stopped by the Loft today, when I was on a lunch break.” Nathan’s flexible schedule was something Olivia envied, even if she’d hate to peddle drugs to hospitals like he did. She was tied to the store and had to work a lot of weekends and holidays, though now that she managed it, she set better hours for herself. Nathan still nagged her about getting a nine-to-five office job.