Lust Is the Thorn Read Online Free PDF Page A

was so good, while I was a hot mess who didn’t know right from wrong anymore, and yet he still cared about me.
    That’s the kind of guy he was.
    Knowing what kind of guy
he
was made me wonder, what kind of girl am
I
?
    He came back into the room. “I spoke to Father John, and he is graciously allowing us to use his lake house for a few days. I got permission to leave, and another seminarian who hasn’t taken his vows yet, like me, will cover my duties at Saint Paul’s. Once we’re at the house, we can figure out where to go from there.”
    Gratitude hit me in the stomach harder than a sucker punch. Knowing he would go to so much trouble to help me, to try to make sure I was okay, it
did
things to me. And it was all too much to swallow, all this compassion and humanity. “Why are you doing this?” I asked softly, staring at him through my lashes. “Why help me?”
    He froze midstep. “I owe it to Mikey—”
    “Bullshit. Mikey’s dead. Has been for years.”
    Dragging a hand through his dark hair, he lifted a shoulder. Only he could make a lopsided shrug look sexy. “That doesn’t mean he’s not watching over us, making sure you’re okay. Making sure that
I
make sure you’re okay.”
    “You’re a good guy. I’m not arguing that.” I shoved messy hair out of my blurred vision, grief making my heart heavy and my throat tighten, because, God, I missed my brother. “But we both know that you don’t owe Mikey anything anymore. He died in that crash because he got behind the wheel and drove drunk. Debts die with the owner. No one’s coming to collect anymore.”
    He took a step closer, his gaze locked on mine as pain crossed his expression. “What if I told you I disagree? That sometimes I think about Mikey, and I swear I almost hear his voice in my head telling me to check in on you. To make sure you’re okay. To keep watch over you. That he blames me for what happened.”
    “I would tell you there’s no such thing as ghosts, and to stop fooling yourself, to forget all about your dead best friend’s little sister, and move on with your life.” I gestured toward his black clothes that announced his profession more than his looks did. “To be a priest like you want, go to a parish in a nice part of Chicago, and leave Englewood far behind you. To go do ‘great things.’ ”
    He flexed his jaw. “The darkest corners are the places where someone needs to tend the light the most. Who says I can’t make a difference here in Englewood?”
    “Me,” I said, my tone steady, despite my racing heart. “Mikey’s gone. There’s nothing left for you here.”
    He shook his head. “I haven’t stuck around for him.”
    “Then why?”
    “Do you really need to ask?”
    I shrugged. “You know I’m not good at reading minds. I tried in fifth grade with Robbie Arlington. It didn’t end well.”
    “You’re not just my dead best friend’s little sister. After all these years, you should know that. You’re more.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “
We’re
more.”
    I stared at him, speechless for a few seconds. “Oh.”
    “Yeah. ‘Oh.’ ” He dropped his hand and walked right up to the side of my bed. He gave me a look that was so soft, so tender, that he could have asked me if he could cut off my arm and I would have offered it to him with a smile and a dull blade. That’s how pathetic I was. “So, you’re going to come with me for a few days to this fancy lake house, and you’re going to let me take care of you, whether you like it or not, and you’re going to quit smoking cold turkey, since I’ll be there to help you. We’re going to get you better. Got it?”
    I got the sense that he was asking me to do this as a way to help me, but also to give himself a feeling of security. So he would know he’d done everything he could do to help me before he walked away for good.
    It was then that I realized what type of girl I was.
    I was the girl who would do anything to make the guy I