Page 10

It's about Elaine.

Always Elaine.

Eight years and I can still see her sitting in my office at the parish, hands folded in her lap, telling me her husband got angry sometimes but it wasn't his fault, he was under so much stress at work, she just needed to pay more attention to what she said, how she said it, when she said it.

I counseled patience. Prayer. Forgiveness. Told her marriage was sacred. That God works through difficulty. That sometimes love means enduring hardship together.

Three weeks later I stood over her casket and understood with perfect clarity that I'd helped kill her.

Not with my hands. With my silence. With doctrine chosen over instinct. With pretty words about faith when what she needed was someone to tell her to run.

I pull into the clubhouse parking lot and cut the engine. Sit there for a minute with my forehead against the steering wheel, breathing through the tightness in my chest.

I'm not failing again. Not this time.

Whatever that means. Whatever it costs.

The clubhouse is chaotic when I walk in, which is to say, normal.

Grace and Mariah are having a screaming contest in the common room to see who can hold a note longer. Luna is sitting on the floor surrounded by dinosaur books, completely unbothered by the noise, reading aloud about the Jurassic period to anyone who'll listen. Theo is in Echo's arms, drooling on his father's shoulder and looking extremely pleased about it.

Ivy and Eden are in the kitchen arguing about whether the chili needs more cumin. Rosie is on the couch painting her nails black while Nora is curled up in Judge's lap reading something on her phone.

It's loud. Messy. Full of life.

Everything I never thought I'd have.

Phoenix looks up from where he's sitting at the bar with Brick and Diesel. Raises an eyebrow when he sees me.

"Back already?" he asks. "Thought you were running supplies."

"Picked up what we needed."

"Which was?" Brick leans back in his chair, grinning. "Let me guess… Coffee? Eggs? More of that fancy oatmeal you pretend you don't like?"

"Bread and milk," I say evenly.

"Bread and milk," Diesel repeats, his tone bone-dry. "Critical supplies. Don't know how we would've survived without them."

Canvas walks past carrying Theo's bottle. "Next time just admit you wanted an excuse to get out of prospect duties. Razor and Angel have been scrubbing the garage all afternoon while you've been on your supply run.'"

"I can scrub the garage when I get back."

"Nah, they finished." Canvas grins. "But you can do bathrooms tomorrow. All of them."

Brick laughs. "The glamorous life of a prospect. Really living the dream, aren't you, Father?"

I flip him off without heat.

"Careful," Judge calls from the couch. "Pretty sure that's a sin."

"Pretty sure most of what happens in this clubhouse is a sin," I shoot back.

"Can confirm," Riley says, not looking up from her phone. "I've been taking notes."

Eden pokes her head out of the kitchen. "Priest, settle an argument. Does chili need cumin or is Ivy out of her mind?"

"Chili needs whatever keeps you two from killing each other over it."