Lessons in Sin

I felt enchanting in this dress. The delicate gold lace and organza stopped just above my knees. With an A-line silhouette, illusion neckline, and satin belt with a bow knot, the gown was both princessy and sexy. I owed Keaton and Iris big-time.

“Thank you, Father.” I grinned. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, pshaw!” He waved it away.

He looked the same as he always did—black shirt, black pants, white collar, contagious grin.

Over the past month, I spent most of my downtime with Tucker and Daisy, mingling after church, attending football practices, and helping with the decorations for the Winter Formal. Spending more time with Tucker meant I saw more of Father Crisanto.

“I don’t want to keep you from the party.” He nodded toward the gym. “It’s just… I don’t ever get the opportunity to talk with you alone. So if you could spare a few minutes?”

I was always with Daisy, Tucker, or Magnus. Never alone. I didn’t want to miss this chance to chat with Magnus’s best friend. Crisanto knew things. I knew things. This conversation was long overdue.

“Sure.” I pointed at the hallway that led away from the side door. “It’s probably quieter over there.”

As we strolled in that direction, he asked conversationally, “How was your Thanksgiving?”

“It was good. I didn’t get to go home because I haven’t exactly been on my best behavior.”

“Yes, I heard you have some…colorful language.”

“I doubt that’s how he described it.”

“No.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I didn’t spend Thanksgiving alone, though. Vivian and Perry, two of my siblings, surprised me with a visit.”

Vivian was my oldest sister. Unmarried and single, she possessed such ferocious confidence and beauty I imagined she intimidated the hell out of any man who looked at her.

Perry was my middle brother. Also single. Maybe that was why the two of them made the drive to see me. They didn’t have significant others to drag them away, and the holidays at home weren’t the same without our father.

Since he’d died, my mother put all her energy into strengthening the family holdings. What she should’ve been doing was focusing on her actual family and keeping us all together.

I was so grateful to see Viv and Perry. They’d taken me to a charming bed-and-breakfast a few towns over. We had a quiet weekend together, and best of all, it got me away from the dark, addictive presence that haunted me at Sion Academy.

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Crisanto paused when we reached the privacy of the hallway. “How is everything going with Father Magnus?”

“May I cut straight to the point?”

“He said you were direct.” He grinned.

“To a fault, I think.” I tilted my head. “He confesses to you? Every day?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to know if he’s confessing everything? Or if there are things happening that he’s not telling you? Is that what this is?”

“No, Tinsley. I trust him, perhaps more than he trusts himself. I hear his confessions, and I know he’s fighting a force inside himself. He’s constantly at war with it. But he’s stronger than his demons.”

Guilt pinched my insides. “I haven’t made it any easier on him.”

“That’s not—”

“At the beginning of the year, I was on a straight path through hell and was willing to take him down with me. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but I can promise this. I care about him. I’m not going to hurt him. I’m not going to let my family hurt him.”

“And if he hurts you? Or angers you? What if you decide you want a relationship that he’s unable to give? Will you go to your family then?”

“No. Absolutely not. Look, I know you’re his best friend, and you’re talking to me in that capacity, looking out for him. But I’m not a threat to him.”

Magnus had told me he confessed to Crisanto regularly. I was about to test the legitimacy of that.

“He kissed me a month ago. I kissed him back.” I watched for surprise in the Filipino priest’s eyes and found none. “Since then, he’s put his hands beneath my skirt, over my underwear four times, and I welcomed it. I wanted more.”

After the day he trapped me against the door and buried his nose between my legs, he’d done the same thing three more times. His fingers never breached the crotch of my underwear. He never exposed himself, and he never touched my breasts or pussy—under or over my clothes. Much to my despair.

He was fighting this thing between us and winning. I did my part by not encouraging it.

I hated the resistance. It made me restless and crazy. The unanswered sexual tension between us was so heavy and unwieldy it drove me out of my skin. But like I’d told him, I didn’t want him to resent me when all this was over.

“You’re his student,” Crisanto said quietly.