Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
He draws in a deep breath, circling my waist again as his groan escapes.
“Is Iron home yet?” Liv asks.
“I haven’t seen him.” I jerk my eyes to hers. “Shit.”
That’s right. Where is he?
It’s Christmas Eve. He should be home already. It’s a good five hours’ drive.
But Clay assures us, “He’s on his way.” She pulls her hair up into a ponytail. “I ran into Army in town. He spoke to him.”
I relax a little. Good.
“Sure isn’t in any hurry,” Callum adds. “I thought he had more leave.”
“Maybe he’s finally found his niche,” Liv jokes.
“Please.” I throw my sister a flat stare. “I’ll admit Macon knew what he was doing with the rest of us, but I’ll be glad when Iron comes to his senses and pursues a new direction. This is beyond stupid.”
“Oh, give it a chance,” Callum teases. “He might like it.”
“Would you like it if it were me?”
He chuckles. “Well, thank God it wasn’t.”
“It almost was.”
His eyes go wide, the glass he was about to take a drink from lowering again.
“Yeah.” I smile wide, enjoying the look on his face. “I never told you about that, did I?”
For a moment there, I almost wasn’t the teacher in the family.
Why is it so hot in here?
I stumble down the damn stairs, my jeans hanging off my hips as I rub the sleep from my eyes. I hit the wall ahead, checking the thermostat. A bed bangs against the wall upstairs, Iron making good use of the three-day furlough he was granted to attend an elder’s funeral. He has to go back to prison tomorrow.
The thermostat is set at sixty-eight. Why the hell—
Then I feel the draft. Twisting my head, I see my family outside in the old courtyard, the door to the dining room wide open.
Macon paces, Krisjen sitting on a chair with her legs crossed…Who else is out there?
Drifting to the door, I clear my throat.
Army, Trace, and Liv—home from her first year in college for spring break—all sit around, darting their gazes to me. What the hell are they doing?
“Do you have someone here?” Macon asks me.
“No,” I reply. “I was sleeping, but Iron is damn near knocking the walls down up there.”
I took Mars’s room while he’s at his parents’ this weekend, letting Iron go bananas in ours.
I step down onto the cement tiles. “What’s going on?”
No one’s speaking, just sitting in silence. It’s starting to get really fucking hot out, the spring evening humid and heavy.
“The diocese wants to promote Father McNealty to bishop,” Macon tells me.
“So?” I retort. “It should’ve happened a long time ago.”
He should be an archbishop by now.
“He refused,” Macon continues, “but it did occur to me that he’s almost seventy years old. He’ll be retiring in the next ten years in any case.”
“So?”
They all look at me, and I know right away, this is going to be a whole fucking conversation.
Rolling my eyes, I take a seat.
“Father McNealty is in a unique position,” my oldest brother explains. “He does the couples’ counseling, marriage counseling, confessions, baptisms…”
As he did all of our baptisms and will do Macon and Krisjen’s wedding…So what?
“He’s an integral part of the community,” Macon tells me as if this has already been explained to everyone else. “He knows everyone and is trusted. He’s been useful in influencing the approvals process for our construction and planning permits. When he welcomes us into a space, everyone else follows.”
“Isn’t that why Krisjen is running for city council?” I fire back.
She can have the same influence. Almost.
“I’m not a man.” She frowns. “Men influence men. There are avenues he can cross that I can’t. We need him.”
Well, we still have him. He’s refusing to be promoted. He’s still head of Marymount Academy for the time being. What—
Then it occurs to me.
“But he’s not going to live forever,” I state, and then I run my hand through my hair. “I’m afraid to ask where this is going.”
Silence looms in the whole courtyard, and I can tell everyone is aware except me. And if it’s a problem not yet solved, then they’re expecting me to play a part.
“We need, uh…” Macon trails off, and that never happens. “We need someone to take his place when he retires.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out what the fuck he means.
Then it hits me. He could only mean one thing.
A new priest.
Oh, what the fuck?
I start laughing, shaking as fatigue burns my eyes. He’s got to be kidding.
“Well, the firstborn son.” I throw my hand at my oldest brother. “Isn’t that the custom?”
Give the first one to God and all that shit?
He just sneers. “Preferably someone who’s not getting married.”
I dart my eyes to his fiancée. She flashes me a tight smile and drops her eyes in an apology.
“I can see that you’re serious.” I rise to go inside. “I need a drink.”