Pray For Me, Then Kiss me

Chapter 2 - Cold Hands, Hot Prayers

CHAPTER 2

Cold Hands, Hot Prayers

I told myself I wouldn’t go back.

Shadows don’t return to the place they were supposed to burn.

But my chest still felt warm where he touched me.

St. Michael’s smelled like candles and old wood. Father Elias was wiping the altar when I walked in. No suit. Just black shirt, sleeves rolled up.

He looked up and smiled like I wasn’t a mistake.

"Ash," he said. "You came back."

I shrugged. "Church is free."

"So is prayer." He walked to me. Slow. Like I was a wild animal. "Can I?"

He held out his hand. Not to grab. To ask.

I should’ve said no. Shadows are killed by holy touch. But his hands didn’t burn me yesterday.

I gave him my wrist.

The second his fingers touched me, the church lights flickered. Gold light ran up my arm and straight into that empty hole in my chest.

He gasped. Pulled back like he got shocked.

"You’re cold," he whispered. "Colder than the grave."

"And you’re warm," I said before I could stop myself. "Too warm."

His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second. Then he looked away, guilty.

"Come to confession tomorrow," he said. "6pm. When no one’s here."

I nodded. Even though confession wasn’t for me.

Confession was for him. For what he was starting to feel.

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