CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 48

DORIAN

I called him again.

One ring. Two rings. Voicemail.

I stared at the screen, the glowing contact name mocking me: Ezra Monroe.

For the past two hours, I’d tried to call him. Over and over. And each time, the same thing. No answer.

My thumb hovered over the call button again. I pressed it.

Voicemail.

I let out a long breath, dragging a hand down my face.

“What the hell is wrong with me,” I muttered.

I wasn’t supposed to care like this. I wasn’t supposed to sit in my office, the church quiet and dark, waiting for a twenty-two-year-old boy to pick up the damn phone.

But I could still see the look he gave me earlier.

I’d gone to the university to drop off some documents for Jennifer. I’d been halfway down the hallway when I saw him.

Ezra.

He’d been with Lily and Jordan, books in his arms, hair messy like he’d run a hand through it too many times. His eyes had met mine across the hall, and for a split second, something passed between us.

Not warmth. Not the usual shy, guilty flutter.

Distance.

A wall.

Like I was just… another person in the hallway.

And then he’d looked away.

I’d felt something in my chest twist so hard it made my hands shake.

I grabbed my jacket and stepped out of my office. The night air was cool, sharp against my skin.

I walked down the church steps slowly, watching the streetlights flicker.

It wasn’t like Ezra to disappear like this. Even when he was busy, he texted. Even if it was something small like can’t talk now, studying.

I checked my phone again. Nothing.

“Maybe you scared him off,” I muttered under my breath.

And then my mind started to spiral.

Maybe he’s avoiding you. Maybe he regrets everything. Maybe that look earlier was him realizing exactly what you are—a priest who broke his vows for a boy with big eyes and a soft mouth.

“God,” I whispered harshly. “I fucked up.”

I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. I thought about every touch. Every kiss. The way he’d trembled against me. The way I’d let it happen—no, pushed for it.

“Idiot,” I hissed at myself.

I’d ruined it. Whatever fragile thing existed between us, I’d crushed it with my own hands.

I started walking without thinking, my boots hitting the pavement with steady, angry thuds.

The town was quiet at this hour. Streetlamps hummed. Shops were closed. Somewhere, a dog barked in the distance.

My head was full of him. Ezra’s laugh. His hiccups when he was nervous. The way he always tried to be prim around Genevieve but failed spectacularly. The way his mouth had felt on mine.

The silence around me made everything louder.

And then, up ahead, I saw them.

Lily and Jordan.

They were walking side by side, arguing over something as usual—Lily animated, hands waving; Jordan calm, hands shoved in her hoodie pockets.

I hesitated for half a second. Then I walked toward them.

“Lily,” I called out.

They both turned, surprised.

“Father Dorian?” Lily blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” I said. My voice came out rougher than I intended.

Jordan raised a brow. “We’re walking home. You?”

“I…” I paused. How was I supposed to explain I’ve been losing my mind because Ezra hasn’t answered my calls?

“I was looking for Ezra,” I finally said.

Lily and Jordan exchanged a glance.

“He didn’t pick up,” I added.

Jordan’s expression softened slightly. “He’s not ignoring you.”

Something in my chest loosened. “Then where is he?”

Lily bit her lip. “You didn’t know?”

I frowned. “Know what?”

She sighed, the usual mischief in her eyes dimming. “It’s his mom’s death anniversary today. And tomorrow is her birthday.”

The world tilted a little.

“What?” My voice came out quiet, sharp.

Jordan nodded. “He goes quiet around this time every year. Doesn’t talk much. Doesn’t really pick calls. We usually give him space.”

I stood there, the streetlight casting long shadows over us. My hands clenched slowly.

Of course. Of course.

While I’d been spiraling, convinced he hated me, Ezra had been carrying grief alone.

And I hadn’t even known.

“Thank you,” I said finally. My voice was stiff.

Jordan shrugged. “Just… don’t take it personally.”

Lily tilted her head, studying me. “You care about him a lot, huh?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

She smiled faintly, like she already knew. “Take care, Father.”

I gave a curt nod and turned away, walking back the way I came.

The night felt colder now.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and stared at the ground as I walked.

Ezra.

All this time, he’d been hurting, and I hadn’t noticed.

I thought about the way he’d looked at me in the hallway. Distant. Detached.

It wasn’t hate. It was pain.

And I’d been too blinded by my own selfish panic to see it.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.

I stopped in front of the church steps, looking up at the darkened building.

For the first time in a long while, I didn’t have a prayer ready.

Just guilt.