CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 16

EZRA

The smell of food dragged me out of hiding. I had spent way too long in the bathroom, splashing water on my face like it was going to erase the memory of Father Dorian’s… yeah. No. That wasn’t going anywhere.

By the time I entered the dining hall, most of the group was already eating. Long wooden tables. Plates clattering. The sound of forks scraping against eggs and toast.

“Ezra! Over here!” Lily waved like she was trying to summon a taxi.

I shuffled over and slid into the seat beside her. Jordan was across from us, mid-bite of pancakes. She grinned. “Morning, sunshine. Sleep well?”

I wanted to melt into the floor. “Uh… yeah.”

Lily squinted. “You don’t look like you slept. You look like you wrestled with demons in your dreams.”

I choked on air. “I—no! I didn’t—”

Jordan smirked. “Demons, huh? Or maybe angels?”

“Stop.” I stabbed a piece of toast to distract myself.

Of course, that’s when Dorian walked in. Casual clothes. Joggers and a plain black shirt that hugged his shoulders too well. His hair was still damp. He looked like… like temptation had put on breakfast clothes.

And my body remembered everything from last night.

My fork scraped too hard on the plate.

Lily leaned in. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“No reason,” I muttered.

Dorian sat down at the other end of the table, right across from me. Not beside me, thank God, but close enough that every time I looked up, I caught him. And worse—he caught me.

“Morning,” he said, voice low, calm.

“Morning, Father,” a few people chorused.

I nodded without looking up. “Morning.”

Genevieve, of course, was at the head of the table. Perfect posture, perfect pearls, her tone sharp but sweet. “I trust everyone slept well?”

“Yes, Mother Genevieve,” half the table mumbled in unison.

She glanced down at me. “Ezra, dear?”

I almost choked on my juice. “Yes. Slept fine. Thank you.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she could see every lie.

Before I could breathe, Nico slid into the empty seat beside me.

“Morning,” he said, too smooth, too close.

“Morning,” I muttered, shifting away.

He smiled at Lily and Jordan, then turned back to me. “You sing even better in person than I imagined. I could hear you all the way from the hall yesterday.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“You’ve got discipline,” he continued. “I admire that in someone your age.”

I forced a smile. “Appreciate it.”

Dorian’s fork clinked against his plate. Subtle. But I noticed.

Jordan leaned over the table, cutting the tension. “So, Father Nico, what did you do before this parish?”

He flashed a grin. “Ah, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Missions. Community outreach. Travel.” He turned his eyes back on me. “Lots of youth retreats.”

Something in my chest twisted.

“Sounds… nice,” I muttered.

Genevieve clapped her hands lightly. “Well, you’ll have your chance to contribute here. We’ll begin orientation after breakfast. Father Vale will lead most sessions, of course.”

Dorian nodded once, calm as stone.

I shoved eggs in my mouth, trying to focus on chewing instead of the heat prickling under my skin. I couldn’t stop glancing at him. The memory of his arm around me. His body pressing close. His breath steady in sleep.

Stop thinking about it. Stop.

Jordan noticed my zoning out. “Ezra, what’s with your face?”

“What face?”

“The one that looks like you’ve been caught sneaking out of confession.”

Lily snorted juice out of her nose.

“I—shut up.” My ears burned.

Dorian’s lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.

I stabbed another piece of toast just to keep my hands busy.

Breakfast dragged on like torture. Genevieve gave little speeches. Nico tried too hard to sound charming. Lily teased Jordan about blushing when Nico complimented her hair. Jordan kicked her under the table.

And me? I just prayed no one could hear the way my heart pounded every time Dorian’s eyes flicked toward me.

“Alright, everyone,” Genevieve’s voice cut through the chatter at breakfast like a knife through butter. She rose from her chair, posture flawless as ever. “Finish up. We’re moving outside.”

A groan rippled through the tables. Lily leaned close to me and whispered, “Bet she’s about to make us run laps or something.”

Jordan smirked. “Or clean the whole camp with toothbrushes.”

I shoved the last piece of toast in my mouth and stood up before Genevieve could glare at me for dawdling.

Outside, the air was sharp and cool. The morning sun stretched across the grounds, catching on the old wooden cross that marked the entrance to the retreat center. Everyone clustered in groups, murmuring.

Genevieve clapped her gloved hands once. “We’ll be dividing into teams of five. Each group will be led by a sister, or by Father Vale or Father Nico.” Her eyes flicked toward them, and for a moment I swore she lingered on me.

My stomach twisted.

She began calling names. Groups formed quickly. Laughter bubbled here and there as friends were paired up.

When she finally said, “Ezra Monroe, Lily Park, Jordan West, Ryan Cole,” she paused. “You’ll be with Father Vale.”

Lily instantly grinned and leaned into me. “Ooooh. Looks like you’re with your favorite priest.”

I hissed, “Shut up.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow. 

Ryan just looked confused. “Wait—what’s happening?”

“Nothing!” I repeated louder, and half the group turned to stare.

Dorian stepped forward, calm and collected in that way that made everyone else shrink. “Let’s go,” he said simply, voice low and deep.

And just like that, we were moving.

The walk toward the village wasn’t long. A dirt road cut through trees, opening into a cluster of houses that looked worn but alive. Children’s laughter carried through the air before we even reached the orphanage gates.

“This place looks straight out of a movie,” Lily whispered, clutching my arm.

Jordan smiled faintly. “It’s beautiful.”

Father Dorian didn’t say a word. He walked a few steps ahead, steady, focused. Every time the breeze lifted his shirt just enough to outline the muscles under it, I had to drag my eyes away.

“Stop staring,” Lily muttered under her breath.

“I’m not,” I hissed back.

“You literally are.”

Ryan, oblivious, pointed at the gates ahead. “I think that’s the orphanage.”

Saved by the bell.

The building was simple—stone walls, a painted wooden cross above the entrance, and a small yard where children were already running around. A sister in a blue habit greeted us warmly.

“Welcome, welcome,” she said. “We’re so glad you came.”

Father Dorian inclined his head. “We’re here to help in whatever way is needed.”

Her smile deepened. “The children could use company. Stories. Games. And inside, the kitchen is short of hands.”

“I’ll help with the kids!” Lily volunteered instantly.

“Same,” Jordan said, though the way she glanced at Lily made me roll my eyes.

Ryan rubbed his neck. “Uh, I can do kitchen duty. I burn toast but I can wash dishes.”

Which left me.

The sister turned her gaze on me. “And you, young man?”

Before I could answer, Dorian said smoothly, “Ezra will stay with me.”

My breath caught.

Lily smirked knowingly, Jordan arched a brow, and Ryan just shrugged.

The sister nodded. “Very well. Come inside. I’ll show you where we need hands.”

Inside, the air smelled of bread and old books. We were led to a room stacked with boxes of supplies. Dorian moved toward one immediately, lifting it like it weighed nothing.

I tried to grab another, smaller box, but my hands slipped.

“Careful,” he said, voice close to my ear.

“I’ve got it,” I muttered, though my arms wobbled under the weight.

His hand steadied the box easily. His fingers brushed mine.

I nearly dropped the thing on my foot.

“You should take the lighter ones,” he said, almost amused.

I scowled. “I’m not weak.”

“You’re not strong either.”

“That’s rude.”

“It’s true.”

I huffed, dragging the box toward the shelf anyway. “I hate this.”

“You hate helping or hate being wrong?”

“Both.”

He didn’t answer, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Like he wanted to smile but wouldn’t let himself.

After a while, we carried supplies back and forth. My arms ached. My shirt clung to my back with sweat. I hated that I noticed Dorian wasn’t even breathing hard.

“Are you like… secretly Superman or something?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

He looked at me, eyes dark. “No.”

“You carry boxes like they’re air.”

“Practice.”

I snorted. “Right. Practice being perfect.”

Something flickered in his gaze, gone too fast. “I’m not perfect, Ezra.”

The way he said my name made my knees go weak.

I turned quickly toward the shelves. “Well, don’t expect me to call you Father Perfect.”

Behind me, silence. Then, softly, “I don’t.”

I swallowed hard.

By the time we finished, the sun had climbed higher. The kids’ laughter outside floated through the windows. Lily’s laugh mixed with Jordan’s voice. Ryan’s shout carried from the kitchen.

I wiped sweat off my forehead. “That was… exhausting.”

Dorian set the last box down with ease. “That was service.”

“Same thing,” I muttered.

He finally looked at me again, eyes steady. “You did well.”

Something in my chest squeezed tight.

I forced a grin. “Careful, Father. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

His lips twitched again. “Don’t get used to it.”

I was doomed. Completely doomed.

The yard buzzed with noise the moment we stepped out. Kids everywhere—laughing, chasing each other, tugging at sleeves. Lily was in her element, darting into the middle like she’d just been crowned queen of the playground.

“Okay! Who wants to play tag?” she shouted.

Half the kids screamed, “Me!” and ran straight for her. She yelped, spun around, and nearly fell into Jordan, who only shook her head and smirked.

“Careful,” Jordan muttered. “You’ll break your neck.”

Lily clutched her arm dramatically. “If I do, you’ll catch me.”

Jordan’s ears went red. “Relax.”

I almost laughed but then two little boys tugged my sleeve. “Sing,” one of them demanded.

“Sing?” I blinked.

“Yes! Lily said you are a Choir boy!” the other one chimed in.

I flushed. “That’s not— I mean…”

“Go on,” Jordan said smoothly, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “Give the people what they want, starboy.”

I groaned. “Don’t call me that.”

The kids already started chanting. “Sing! Sing! Sing!”

I shot a helpless glance toward Lily, who was busy chasing three girls across the yard. No help there. My gaze flicked—like a traitor—toward Dorian.

He was standing a little apart from everyone, arms crossed, eyes on me. Not judging. Just… watching.

My stomach twisted.

Fine. I crouched down so the boys could hear me and hummed the opening of a hymn. Soft. Safe. They clapped along. More kids crowded around. Someone yelled, “Louder!” and I gave in. My voice rose, filling the small yard.

By the time I finished, the kids were grinning.

“Again!” they begged.

“Nope,” I said quickly, standing before they could chain me to the ground. “One time deal.”

Lily bounced back over, flushed and laughing. “You’re so dramatic. Just sing again.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered.

Jordan’s gaze cut to me, sharp. “Not so bad, was it?”

I shrugged, but heat crawled up my neck.

The truth? It wasn’t bad. It felt… good. Too good, with Dorian’s eyes still on me.

I couldn’t stand it.

A little girl tugged at my wrist next. “Read?” she asked, pointing to a stack of worn books on the porch.

Her eyes were wide. I melted instantly.

“Okay,” I said softly.

She beamed, dragged me over, and shoved a book into my hands. I sat down on the step, and within seconds, I had five kids crowding my lap and shoulders. Their weight pressed warm against me, their giggles filling my ears.

I started reading. Slowly, carefully, because the words were faded. The girl rested her chin on my knee, smiling the whole time.

My chest ached.

I didn’t realize Dorian had moved until I glanced up mid-sentence.

He was leaning against the porch post, arms crossed, but his expression wasn’t the cold, perfect mask I usually saw. It was softer. Almost vulnerable. Like he’d forgotten to guard himself.

The sight made my throat tight.

I turned back quickly to the page before I drowned in it.

By the time the book ended, Lily was collapsed in the grass, breathless. Jordan sat cross-legged nearby, rolling a ball back and forth with two toddlers.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you,” Jordan murmured when I finally stood up.

I blinked. “See me what?”

She smirked. “Blushing. Watching. Pretending you weren’t watching.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” She leaned back on her hands, casual. “Just don’t get caught.”

Heat exploded across my face. “Jordan—”

“Relax. I’m not your mom.” Her voice was low, even. 

I wanted the ground to eat me alive.

The sister called everyone back inside for water and snacks. The kids cheered, racing ahead. Lily grabbed Jordan’s hand without thinking. Jordan stiffened but didn’t pull away.

I trailed behind them, mind spinning.

Dorian fell into step beside me. Too close. Always too close.

“You’re good with them,” he said, voice low.

My heart slammed. “I—uh—thanks.”

“They listen to you.”

“They just like stories.”

“Not just storie

s.”

I risked a glance at him. His expression was unreadable again, but his eyes—God, his eyes—burned.

I tripped on the step into the hall. Smooth.

Lily laughed. “Careful, Ez. Don’t break your neck before dinner.”

I forced a laugh, too.

But the truth? My whole body was still buzzing from his words.

And I knew I wasn’t imagining it anymore.