When Casey's long term boyfriend suddenly locks him out of the house, he thinks his world has ended. Who would have known after everything they'd been through together Father McDermott, a Catholic priest he has secretly been dating would do something like that to him?
Then he meets Hunter, a slightly older, slow-talking, smart but simple country boy who takes him in and teaches Casey to believe in himself, what true love is, and how to please a real man…
Expanded second special edition, with 30,000+ additional words and expanded scenes.
These books are now part of the I Got You book series world and are full-length novel editions. Some are brand new stories, others are deluxe editions and re-releases of Jamie Lake and Jeff Rivera books.
“What are you doing here?” Father Madison McDermott asked, shrouded in the dark shadows of the confessional booth. His voice was harsh and angry, his tone only magnified by the fact that he couldn’t be seen.
“I just need a second,” Casey pleaded, biting what was left of his nails. He hated the way that Father McDermott sounded at the moment; it was almost alien to him. If it had been about anything else, Casey knew that he would have turned and left, waiting for a more opportune moment. But this couldn’t wait any longer—it needed to be said. The thin barrier between the two was a familiar sight for the life-long Catholic, and should have been enough to calm his nerves, but for the first time it wasn’t.
At twenty-five, Casey had a strong, chiseled jawline, a face that was almost pretty rather than handsome, and eyes the color of freshly cut grass. His eyes, usually perky and full of joy, currently screamed of trouble, like something was hitting him right at the core. Nervous and struggling to find the right words, he ran his hand through his dark hair; it was the same lush brown color as the rich wood of the booth.
“There’s nothing to discuss,” the young father whispered in a deep, low tone. The way he said it was sharp like a knife, cutting through Casey just as easily. He was equally as young, but unlike Casey, he was always poised and in total control of what he did and said. Very mindful and wise beyond his years, he took care to think about what he said and how he said it—he couldn’t afford to take risks like Casey so often did. With his golden hair and bright blue eyes too vivid to be real, Father McDermott constantly had the women of the cathedral wishing he’d break his vow of celibacy. And although he was forced to always wear the same long, flowing robes, if they’d known about the tall, lean body beneath those robes, more than a few might’ve been tempted to test the father’s faithfulness—the ultimate sin for the ultimate pleasure.
“But you promised,” Casey said, trying his best not to sound like a whining teenager, as he pressed his shaking hands against the screen. The mesh wires felt cool to the touch, symbolic to the way that the father was currently treating him. “How could you do this to me?”
“I told you. You’ll be taken care of,” McDermott stressed, biting back the rage that was building in his voice. His words grew heavier with each passing second, trembling as he spoke. The stale stench of his breath wafted through the mesh wires. He didn’t care for the current confessor.
“I don’t want your fucking money,” Casey said, getting angry now, or at least trying to. He always had a hard time getting angry around the father. “We’ve been together since high school, Madison.”
“You knew the arrangement.” McDermott shifted in his metal chair as the conversation veered into uncomfortable territory, the squeaks of the metal ringing through the confessional. “And you broke it.”
“Nobody saw anything,” Casey pleaded, leaning in, his face pressed up against the mesh now, his fingers trying to poke through as if hoping to touch the father on the other side. It had been a stupid thing to do, he knew that, but at the time he hadn’t been thinking about it. He had been so overcome with lust and emotion that he’d just acted, consequences be damned. The father had been standing there in front of the church. As Casey walked past the holy man, he just couldn’t help himself, reaching out to touch his lover. It was nothing over the top or even noticeable, he thought. It was just an innocent brush of his fingers against McDermott’s arm, a playful gesture that he hoped would leave the father thinking about him for the rest of the day—maybe even dying to take it out on him later that night. But the priest had freaked out beyond anything that Casey could have imagined, slapping his hand away so hard that he’d left red marks across the back of Casey’s hand. He’d been bruised by the priest before, of course, but that was always purposeful. This was something else entirely. Considering how this conversation was going, Casey could already feel fresh bruises creeping up within him, ones that wouldn’t go away so easily.
“You’re too much of a risk,” McDermott sighed, trailing off into a whisper. He could sense that Casey was about to overreact, as he always did, and had to do his best to level the conversation.
“You’ve changed,” Casey wailed, his eyes burning with salted tears, his eyes surely as red as the back of his hand had been. “You used to be so loving, so passionate. What happened?”
“Quit lisping,” McDermott scorned. “Maybe if you’d act like a man in public, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“I’m trying,” Casey cried, not even bothering to wipe away the tears.
“McDermott … Madison, please.”
“I loved you, Casey. I did,” McDermott said as he slid the screen closed, a final symbolic gesture that hurt Casey more than anything he had or could have said. “But it’s over.”
Casey sat there in disbelief. After all these years…The tears were now coming thick and fast, but he didn’t care. He had much bigger things to worry about than a few unavoidable tears.
Casey had always found the confines of the confessional booth small and uncomfortable, but now it was downright suffocating. The tiny space seemed to strangle him as his thoughts manifested and grew, unable to break out of the tiny room. Everything grew tighter, smaller, and more painful than the secrets in his heart. All the while, the room seemed to grow darker, too, swallowing him whole while threatening to never let him escape the monstrous situation he found himself in.
Breathing slowly, trying to recompose himself, he was hit by the heavy silence that followed McDermott’s final words. There was nothing more than the echoing sound of McDermott’s chair squeaking as he left.
Now he truly was alone.