CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 11

EZRA

The first thing I did when I woke up was reach for my phone. My eyes were still heavy, but the glow of the screen pulled me in. Notifications buzzed at the top, most of them from school, one from the parish group chat.

I tapped it open.

Retreat this weekend. Three days. Pack warm clothes, journals, and devotional items. Bus leaves Friday morning.

I stared at it for a second, then dropped the phone back onto my pillow.

Great. Three days of forced prayer and group activities. I already prayed enough. More than enough.

I rolled onto my back and covered my face with my arm. My brain flashed images from that night—the vestry, Father Dorian’s bare chest, the way the rosary had hung from his throat. I shoved the thought away before it made me tremble again. Retreat. Focus on that. Not him.

Dragging myself out of bed, I got ready and went downstairs.

Genevieve was already at the dining table, her posture perfect as ever. A plate was in front of her—eggs, fruit, toast neatly cut. She was scrolling through her tablet while sipping coffee. I sat down quietly.

“You saw the notice?” she asked without looking up.

I picked up my spoon. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She glanced at me then, her sharp eyes softened only by the prim smile on her lips. “Pack warm clothes. The mountains get cold this time of year. And bring something proper. I don’t want you looking careless.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Ezra?”

“Yes?”

She set her tablet down. “This is important. You’re in the choir. You represent us. I expect you to be disciplined. No silly distractions.”

I nodded obediently. “Of course.”

Her gaze lingered, like she was testing if I meant it. Then she nodded once and picked up her tablet again.

Breakfast was quiet after that. Just the clink of silverware and her occasional cough.

When I finished, I stood. “I’ll be heading to campus.”

She waved her hand without looking up. “Don’t be late for class.”

I grabbed my bag and left, sighing the moment the door shut behind me.

At school, the air was buzzing with talk about the retreat. Groups were already joking about who’d bunk with who, who was sneaking snacks, who’d try to stay up past curfew. I was adjusting the strap of my backpack when Lily suddenly looped her arm over my shoulders.

“Did you see it?” she asked, practically bouncing.

“The notice?”

“Obviously the notice. Retreat, mountains, three days away from this boring campus.” She grinned at me like I was supposed to match her excitement.

“Yeah. I saw it.”

She leaned closer. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Excited is… not the word.”

“Ezra.” She gave me a look. “It’s not that bad. We’ll sing, eat, gossip, freeze a little, and come back with stories. It’s the one time of the year we actually get to breathe outside church walls.”

“I thought the whole point was praying more.”

She snorted. “Yeah, but praying in the woods feels holier. Like Jesus in the desert or something.”

I laughed despite myself. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re too serious.” She tugged on my sleeve as we walked across campus. “Come on. It’s three days. You, me, Jordan. We’ll stick together. No one’s going to make you do trust falls with Father Barnes or anything.”

“Barnes isn’t even going.”

“Exactly! Even better.”

I stopped short. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged like it was no big deal. “He and Father Samuel are going to another parish. Didn’t you read the full message?”

I frowned. “I skimmed.”

“Of course you did.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it’s just Father Dorian, Genevieve, and the new one—Nico.”

Something in my stomach twisted at the name. “Father Nico?”

“Mm-hmm. Creepy smile guy.”

I muttered, “Perfect.”

Lily grinned like she’d caught something. “What’s that tone?”

“Nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Ezra Monroe, don’t you dare keep secrets from me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Your voice does that thing when you lie.”

I pulled her arm off me. “Lily, drop it.”

She pouted dramatically, then smirked. “Fine. But just so you know, if you act all gloomy at the retreat, I’ll drag you into karaoke by the campfire. No one is safe from me.”

I groaned. “God, save me.”

She nudged me playfully. “You’re supposed to say that during prayer, not in response to me.”

I tried to hide my smile, but she caught it.

“See?” she said, triumphant. “You’re already having more fun thinking about it.”

“No. I’m laughing at how ridiculous you are.”

“Same difference.”

We reached the lecture hall, and she bumped me with her hip before peeling off to grab a seat. “Friday, Ezra. Pack warm clothes. And don’t make that face—you’re coming.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t.”

“You thought it. I could see it.” She pointed at me like she was my mother. “See you after class.”

I sighed and slid into my seat.

The retreat was days away.

And I couldn’t decide if I was dreading it—or craving it.

*******

Friday came faster than I expected. By the time I wheeled my bag toward the church parking lot, half the group was already clustered around the bus, chattering and dragging suitcases. Lily spotted me instantly, waving like a maniac.

“There you are!” she shouted. “We were about to leave you behind.”

“You wouldn’t,” I said, even though she absolutely would have just to see me panic.

Jordan was beside her, arms crossed, smirking. “You’d find a way. Probably hitch a ride with Father Dorian.”

My throat tightened at the name. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

Lily tugged my sleeve. “Come on.”

Inside the bus, I slid into a row in front of the two of them.

“Do you ever stop being a menace?” Jordan asked Lily.

“Not when I’m excited,” Lily said. “Three whole days. Campfires. Singing. Maybe snow. I’m thriving already.”

I laughed softly. “You’re insane.”

Jordan gave me a look over her screen. “And you’re enabling her.”

Before I could reply, a voice cut through the noise.

“Everyone, settle in,” Father Dorian called from the front. His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried. Instantly, the bus grew quieter. My heart skipped before I could stop it.

One of the sisters stood with a clipboard, calling names as everyone answered.

“Lily Harper.”

“Here,” Lily said, practically bouncing out of her seat before sliding back down.

“Jordan Reyes.”

Jordan raised a hand. “Here.”

“Ezra Monroe.”

I cleared my throat. “Here.”

Once everyone was accounted for, the sister nodded. “All set.”

The bus door closed with a hiss. I thought that was it—until the aisle shifted, and Father Dorian himself stepped in.

He moved down the bus slowly, scanning the rows like he was taking mental notes of where everyone sat. My pulse thundered when his eyes brushed over me for just a second. I looked away, pretending to fix my bag.

Then he stopped.

And sat down.

Next to me.

Lily blinked. Jordan raised an eyebrow. And I forgot how to breathe.

“Father Vale,” Lily said quickly, too quickly. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he said politely, his voice low.

Jordan smirked like she was watching a movie. “Didn’t think we’d get the honor of sitting behind you.”

He gave a small nod. “Seats are limited.”

Liar. There were still two empty rows in the back.

But I didn’t dare say that. My chest felt too tight, his presence overwhelming.

He was so big up close, broad shoulders filling the space beside me. His sleeve brushed my arm when he adjusted, and I almost flinched. He smelled like clean soap and something darker—something I couldn’t name but wanted to drown in.

I clenched my fists in my lap. Don’t think. Don’t look.

My lips moved before I realized it. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…

Lily whispered, “Ezra. Are you… praying?”

“Shut up,” I hissed back.

She bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh.

Jordan leaned past me. “He gets nervous around authority.”

My face burned. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Lily sang.

Dorian turned his head slightly, and I swore his gaze brushed over me again. “Nervous about what?”

I froze. “Nothing, Father.”

“Mm.” He looked out the window again.

That sound—low, thoughtful, dismissive—made my stomach flip.

The bus lurched into motion. Lily started rambling about the snacks she’d packed, Jordan teased her for bringing half a grocery store, and all I could do was sit there, stiff as a board, praying I didn’t smell like panic.

Then another body climbed onto the bus.

“Sorry I’m late,” a smooth voice said.

Father Nico.

Of course.

He strolled down the aisle, smiling too wide, too polished. He slid into one of the back seats, giving a little nod toward us as if he already owned the place.

“Looks like we’re all here,” Genevieve said crisply, settling near the rear as well, posture perfect even in a bus seat.

The bus quieted again, the mix of youth and adults settling into a rhythm of chatter, laughter, and occasional hymns.

But not me.

I was stuck between Lily humming under her breath and Jordan scrolling TikTok, with Father Dorian’s steady presence radiating heat at my side. Every time the bus hit a bump, our shoulders brushed. Every time he shifted, the air changed.

I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

I wanted to lean closer.

I bit the inside of my cheek and whispered the Lord’s Prayer under my breath until the words blurred.

This was going to be a long journey.