CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 17

EZRA

The sun had already dipped low by the time we left the orphanage. The road back wound uphill, rocks crunching under our shoes, and my legs were screaming halfway through.

Jordan stretched her arms behind her head, expression flat. “God. I’m tired.”

She didn’t say it like Lily would, whining and dragging her feet.

“You always look tired,” Lily teased, hugging my arm like her life depended on it. “Ez, tell her. She always has that ‘I hate everything’ face.”

Jordan shot her a side look. “That’s just my face.”

I snorted.

“My face is expressive,” Lily continued, ignoring her. “Yours is boring. Flat line. Zero drama.”

Jordan shrugged. “Better than falling apart every five minutes.”

“Excuse you,” Lily gasped. “I don’t fall apart—”

Which was exactly when she tripped over a rock and went down hard.

“Lily!” I yelped, pulling her up by the arm.

She winced, clutching her ankle. “Ow, ow, ow, ow—”

Jordan let out a string of curse words that made my ears heat. Without hesitation, she crouched in front of Lily. “Get on.”

Lily blinked. “What?”

“On my back.”

“You can’t carry me—”

“Do you want to walk on a twisted ankle or not?” Jordan snapped.

Lily hesitated, then climbed onto her back with a groan. “Fine. But if you drop me, I’ll haunt you.”

“Promise?” Jordan said dryly, standing with Lily wrapped around her.

I almost laughed, but the look on Lily’s face—red cheeks, biting her lip—made my chest ache in a different way.

Jordan adjusted her grip and started walking ahead, steady as ever, like Lily weighed nothing.

Which left me and Father Dorian trailing behind.

My heart pounded.

For a while, it was just the crunch of gravel and Lily’s occasional dramatic sighs.

Then Dorian’s voice broke the silence. Low. Calm.

“They like each other.”

I froze. “What?”

He nodded toward Jordan carrying Lily. “Those two. They like each other.”

My ears went hot. “Uh… yeah. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” His eyes cut to me, sharp.

I swallowed. “Fine. Yes. They do.”

He hummed like he’d already known.

I fumbled for words. “It’s not—it’s not really a secret. Lily… she’s obvious. And Jordan acts like she doesn’t care but she does. She always does.”

Dorian kept walking, long strides eating the road. His silence made me nervous, so I kept talking, because of course I did.

“They’ll probably end up together, honestly. Lily’s crazy, but Jordan likes crazy. Even though she pretends she doesn’t. She’ll carry her around forever if she has to.”

My mouth snapped shut.

Why was I rambling about their love life to a priest?

I glanced up at him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes weren’t.

Something flickered there. Quiet. Dangerous.

“So,” I said quickly, desperate to fill the space. “Yeah. They like each other.”

He didn’t respond.

Just walked beside me, his hand brushing dangerously close to mine every time the road narrowed.

My pulse refused to calm down.

Ahead, Lily laughed softly, her chin resting on Jordan’s shoulder.

Jordan muttered something I couldn’t hear.

And me?

I just tried to breathe while the one man I shouldn’t be thinking about walked beside me, his presence so heavy it made my skin burn.

This retreat was going to kill me.

By the time we got back to the retreat center, my legs were jelly. Lily was still on Jordan’s back, looking smug like she’d just won a lottery instead of sprained her ankle.

“Don’t get used to this,” Jordan muttered as she carried her up the steps.

“Too late,” Lily said, grinning. “This is the best day of my life.”

Jordan rolled her eyes but didn’t put her down.

I followed behind them, half dead, half still buzzing because Father Dorian’s words—They like each other—were stuck in my brain. Like, yes, obviously, but hearing him say it out loud made me feel like he could see through everyone. Including me. Which was terrifying.

Dinner was simple but good. Rice, stew, bread. Everyone crowded around the long tables again, voices overlapping.

“Pass the bread,” Ryan said, reaching across me.

“Say please,” I muttered, handing it over.

“Please,” he said with a smirk.

“You’re welcome.”

Lily sat with her foot propped up, basking in attention while Jordan made sure she didn’t move.

“I’m fine,” Lily complained. “You’re acting like I’m dying.”

“You’ll be fine when you stop being dramatic,” Jordan shot back.

“Ezra, tell her she’s overreacting.”

I chewed my food slowly. “She’s overreacting.”

“Traitor,” Lily gasped.

I grinned into my plate.

Across the table, Dorian was quiet as always. Eating like the world wasn’t spinning out of control. Nico, meanwhile, wouldn’t shut up.

“The roads here remind me of my time in Spain,” Nico said, too smooth. “Have any of you traveled abroad?”

A few people murmured, but no one really cared.

Lily leaned closer to me and whispered, “Why does he talk like a travel brochure?”

I almost choked. “Stop.”

She giggled, then winced at her ankle.

I glanced at Dorian. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t even twitch. But his eyes flicked toward Nico once, sharp. Then back to his plate.

After dinner, Genevieve clapped her hands. “Come, everyone. Outside. Bonfire.”

We shuffled out again, full stomachs and tired legs. The fire was already crackling, sparks shooting into the night sky. The air smelled of smoke and pine.

People settled around the fire in a circle. Laughter, murmurs, shuffling feet.

“Sing,” someone called.

All eyes turned to me.

Great.

“Ezra, lead us,” Genevieve said, her voice crisp and polite, like it wasn’t even a request.

I swallowed. “Uh… okay.”

I picked a hymn. My voice started soft, shaky, but the flames and the night pulled it out of me. Soon everyone joined in, voices weaving together. Lily’s high notes, Jordan’s steady low harmony, even Ryan chiming in.

The sound carried into the dark like something holy.

I glanced up once, and of course, Dorian was staring.

Heat shot down my spine.

I looked away fast, focusing on the fire.

The songs went on, one after the other. People clapped, laughed, teased each other about being off-key. When we finally slowed down, Genevieve rose. Her silhouette glowed in the firelight, every movement perfect.

“Let us pray,” she said.

We all bowed our heads.

Her voice was steady, powerful. “Lord, thank You for bringing us here safely. For filling our mouths with songs, and our hearts with joy. Guide our steps in the days to come, and keep us from temptation.”

My chest squeezed at that last word.

Temptation.

I didn’t have to look up to know Dorian was right across from me. I could feel him.

When she finished, everyone murmured “Amen.”

People started dispersing, heading toward cabins. Laughter and whispers faded into the night.

I stayed sitting for a second longer, staring at the flames.

My thoughts wouldn’t shut up.

Temptation. His eyes. His hands. The way he looked at me today.

I wanted to slam my head into a wall.

“Ezra?” Lily’s voice pulled me back. She was leaning on Jordan now, half-hopping. “Come on. Don’t get lost in your feelings.”

Jordan smirked. “He’s always lost in his feelings.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, standing.

But as I followed them back to the cabins, I knew they weren’t wrong.

And if this retreat kept going the way it had started, I was in serious trouble.

Back in the cabin, the air was quiet. Too quiet. Everyone else was still outside laughing or drifting off to their bunks, but here it was just me. And him.

Father Dorian.

He closed the door behind us, slow and deliberate, then pulled off his shirt in one clean motion.

I almost tripped over my own feet.

Joggers again. Bare chest. Tattoos crawling across his skin like they owned him. I forced myself to look away so hard my neck cracked.

“Lights off?” he asked, voice calm.

“Uh—yeah. Sure.” My voice cracked. Smooth, Ezra. Real smooth.

I scrambled onto my side of the bed—well, not really my side. It was just one small bed that we were apparently supposed to share. Again.

I lay down, staring at the ceiling like it was going to save me from sin.

Dorian turned off the light. Darkness swallowed us, except for a faint glow from the window. He lay down beside me, quiet, steady. His breathing filled the room.

I tried to relax. I really did. But every time he shifted, the mattress dipped and I nearly stopped breathing.

“Why are you so tense?” His voice cut through the dark.

I jumped. “I’m not tense.”

“You’re stiff as a board.”

“I’m fine.”

A pause. Then, “You toss and turn every night.”

My face burned. “How would you know?”

“I don’t sleep as heavy as you think.”

Great. So he knew. He knew I’d been tossing like a man possessed, trying not to think about how close he was.

“I’ll try to stay still,” I muttered.

“You don’t have to try. Just sleep.”

Easy for him to say.

Silence again. His breathing evened out.

Mine didn’t.

I rolled slightly, just enough to sneak a glance at him.

Big mistake.

The moonlight caught his face. Strong jaw, lashes too long for a man, lips parted slightly as he breathed. He looked carved. Like temptation itself had taken human form and decided to sleep beside me.

My chest squeezed.

Stop. Stop it.

I rolled back fast, clenching my fists under the blanket.

Minutes passed. Or hours. I couldn’t tell.

Finally, his voice again. Low. Rough from sleep.

“You’re still awake.”

I froze. “No, I’m not.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I just… can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

I swallowed. “Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Because I’m… thinking.”

“About what?”

My heart stopped.

“Homework,” I blurted.

“In the middle of a retreat?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

I turned my face into the pillow. “Fine. Not homework.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing.”

“Ezra.” His voice sharpened, that commanding edge that made my whole body react.

I bit my lip. “I don’t want to say.”

Silence stretched. His breath was steady, mine wasn’t.

Finally, he said, softer, “Then stop thinking. Sleep.”

Easy for him to say.

I tried again. Closed my eyes. Counted sheep. Recited verses in my head.

Didn’t work.

Every time the mattress shifted with his weight, my stomach flipped.

At one point, I must’ve sighed too loud because he spoke again.

“You’re disturbing yourself,” he said.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Then what do I have to be?”

Quiet. Then: “Just… honest.”

That word hit harder than it should have.

I swallowed down a hundred words that wanted to spill out. That I couldn’t say. Not here. Not now.

So I just turned over, forcing myself to keep my back to him.

“Goodnight, Father,” I said, my voice barely holding together.

After a pause, he answered. “Goodnight, Ezra.”

Except I didn’t sleep. Not for a long time.