“I’m telling the truth.” His eyes travel to the monitors on the other side of my bed. His brow furrows at one of them. “I finished seminary a year ago. I’m the priest at St. Marks.”
St. Marks. I remember it. I remember driving by it and admiring the stained glass windows and gothic architecture. Never once had I driven past it and imagined Torrin being the priest of it one day.
One part of me hopes the drugs pumping through my veins are strong enough to cause hallucinations because maybe then this isn’t real. Maybe he isn’t really dressed like a priest and admitting he’s one. A hallucination seems more real than believing Torrin has become a priest.
“You had to practically be dragged to mass every week. You’d sneak out of Sunday school to spend it making out with me in the church parking lot.” I lift my brow at him. He lifts his own brow back. “I thought you would have become a baby seal clubber before a priest.”
He moves another foot closer until his belt is almost touching my bedrail. I want to touch him, but I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure if it’s allowed or if I’m even capable of it anymore.
“Back then, so did I, but like you said, you’ve changed.” His shoulders lift. “So have I. This is who I am now.”
I don’t know what to say. Are congratulations in order? An apology? An acceptance? I don’t know. All I know is that I feel like I’ve been saved from one prison only to be tossed into a different one. Life feels no different now that I’ve been “rescued.” I still feel trapped. I still feel alone. I still feel like I can never trust or be close to another human being. I still feel like the girl I was is dead. I still don’t know if I want to spend the next sixty years as the woman I’ve been forced into.
“Your heartbeat—it’s too fast.” Torrin’s eyes narrow on the machine monitoring my heart. “Try to calm down, Jade.” He looks at the door then at the nurse’s call button.
I take a deep breath. The beeps don’t slow down. “I was found less than twenty-four hours ago and just found out my boyfriend became a priest.” I try another deep breath. This one doesn’t help either. “It’s a lot to take in.”
Torrin can’t stop watching the heart rate monitor. “I’m upsetting you. I’ll leave.” He backs up a few steps and stops. “I just wanted to see you. I had to see you.” His jaw tightens like something I can’t see is flashing in front of him.
“Did my parents tell you?”
They were here hours ago, so they had plenty of time to call him. They had to know Torrin would want to know.
He shakes his head. “We don’t really keep in touch anymore.” His hand curls around the handle of my water pitcher. When he notices it’s empty, he heads over to the sink. “I think it was too hard for them with everything and, you know, how you’d been coming back from seeing me when you were taken. Plus, I was kind of a prime suspect for a while after you went missing. I don’t think your dad’s ever really taken me off the suspect list either.”
The water spurts on, and his back’s to me again. I feel like he’s trying to keep some distance between us, but I’m not sure how much. Did he only come tonight to see me one last time before saying good-bye? Or can we get together for coffee every once in a while?
God. The boy I thought I would marry is now the man I’m questioning if it would still be okay to ask out for a latte on occasion. My life has been decimated.
“I’m sorry they didn’t call you,” I say, trying to sit up a little higher. “And I’m sorry anyone thought you had something to do with me going missing.” I hadn’t considered that once. I should have. Those closest to a victim are always first on the suspect list, but it just seemed so preposterous that anyone could think Torrin would do something like that to me.
He shrugs and pours some water into my cup before setting the pitcher down beside it. “I’m sorry it took so long for you to be found.” He manages a smile that is all guilt and regret. “I should go. It’s late.”
My hand moves toward him automatically. He’s too far away for me to reach him, but he doesn’t miss it.
“Don’t go. Please.” I keep my hand in the air for another second before dropping it onto the mattress. It’s too heavy to hold up. “I know he’s dead. I know he’s never coming back . . . but I’m scared.” I drop my eyes. It’s not just Earl Rae and what happened that scares me. It’s what’s waiting for me tomorrow. It’s all the tomorrows after that that scare me.
“Do you want me to find a nurse? Maybe they could give you something.”
I tilt my head at the IV bag. “They’ve already given me everything they’ve got. Just . . .” What is it? “I don’t want to be alone. Does that make sense?”
I don’t know if it does. I’ve spent the past ten years virtually alone. Why am I so afraid of being alone for one night?