Cole, I know I haven’t earned it, but would you mind very much if I tried the organ?” Blake’s voice filled the empty church.
Cole smiled sadly. “Of course, brother. It would be an honor to hear you play again.”
Cole’s despair settled into his bones. His crying soul now had the worst kind of company: another soul crying just as loud.
The music sounded crazy. Crazy—as if Blake had never known how to create a coherent song on a musical instrument.
Maybe this Livia thing has finally broken him. A soul like Blake’s can’t make it in this world.
Cole updated Beckett:
Stay where u r. Not sure how this will go. He’s playing now.
Cole glanced at Beckett’s response:
Ave Fuckong Mariea?
Cole wondered how to put it:
No, just noise. Not music.
Beckett’s next message had no typos:
Shit
She came to find me. She came to find me,” Blake said. His voice was a mixture of revelation and revulsion. “Do you think, Cole, that I could love her? Could I have a life with her?
Debra AnastasiaKyle, please. Stop. This isn’t you. You aren’t even here anymore,” Cole said softly with his arms around her.
Kyle blinked and shook her head. Shame. Again.
Then she fought him desperately—eyeing her scattered clothes and the door.
“You don’t have to do this for me. I don’t want a show.” Cole put his hands on her face and kissed her lips gently. For the first time.
Their separated souls rejoiced and found each other again. He lifted her off the altar and set her on her feet.
“Be you for me, Kyle. Be the Kyle you’re so very afraid of being. I’ll keep her safe.” Cole skimmed his lips along her cheek and looked at her hopefully.
Kyle gazed into his eyes and nodded solemnly. The moment seemed bigger than the two of them.
Cole asked permission. “Kyle McHugh, may I worship you?”
A tear fell from her eye as she whispered, “Yes.”
Cole took a step back and whipped the cloth off her shoulders. She was no vixen now. Kyle looked terrified. She clenched her fists, as if willing herself not to run. Cole turned and gathered her scattered clothes. He found her panties and took them to her, kneeling at her feet. Kyle looked puzzled, but as he worked the panties up her legs, she got it. Unlike all the other men, he was dressing her.
That pew became a confessional. There, with a fully clothed, fully present Kyle, he left his plans for lifelong commitment to only the Church in a smoldering pile. This woman, this broken, brave, perfect woman was what he needed. They talked again—about funny parishioners and childhood stories. Anything they thought, they said.
Debra AnastasiaAs they stepped away, Beckett nodded toward Blake’s bandaged arm. “What’d ya get?”
“It says ‘Sorry,’” Blake said as he went out the door to Cole’s private quarters, leaving his brothers alone.
Beckett dialed his cell phone and spoke to Cole while it rang. “What time’s good for you?”
Cole sighed. “Around one-thirty today would work.”
“Chaos!” Beckett yelled into the phone. “Fit me and my brother into your busy fucking schedule of dusting lawn gnomes and staring out that dirty shed window. We’ll be there at one-thirty.
Livia stole quietly away from the scene of the beauty. She left Blake, but she never stopped hearing his music that night.
Debra AnastasiaHe kissed Kyle, checking to see that her eyes stayed sure and real. They did. Instead of saint and sinner, they were man and woman now. When Cole finally tasted her skin, the flavor was honeysuckle. Heaven was not something he had to die to enjoy. Kyle was here now.
Debra AnastasiaBlake had to find Livia. And he knew where to find her. He could come to her any day at the Poughkeepsie train station. But it had to be his choice to come back. Suddenly leaving him here to play his exquisite music didn’t feel like giving up. It gave Livia hope.
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