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Chapter Thirty-Five

Ronan

For the first time in my life…Elias was in my bed. Cuddled up to me and allowed me to hold him close.

The room was quiet except for the soft sound of our breathing, both of us tangled up in the sheets after a night of vulnerability I hadn’t expected. Elias lay beside me, the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the window, casting a faint halo around his features.

His eyes were closed, but I could feel the weight of his thoughts, the heaviness of everything he had yet to say.

We hadn’t talked much since the tension between us had cracked open like a dam breaking. Now that the storm had passed, the silence felt almost too loud, too intimate. It was like we were both suspended in time, unsure how to proceed, but knowing this moment—this fragile peace—was important.

How could he be a priest to others and keep me in secret? Was it really possible to do? Would that break Elias with more of that guilt he couldn’t seem to shake?

I shifted closer to him, my fingers grazing his shoulder, wanting to close the distance.

“Hey,” I said quietly, my voice breaking the silence, “I know we’re…figuring things out. But I want to know about you. Your past. I know there’s a lot you haven’t said.”

Elias’s breath hitched slightly, and I felt him tense under the weight of my question, like he was pulling into himself again. But then, with a small, resigned sigh, he rolled over to face me. His eyes met mine, vulnerable and open in a way I hadn’t expected.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve got a lot of baggage,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “You know, I…I wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always this…careful, far from holy, in fact. It is kind of pathetic.” His lips twisted into a small, bitter smile. “I was reckless. Untamed…fucking wild, Ronan. Worse than even you.”

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue, my thumb gently brushing over his hand. I could feel the weight of his past pressing on him, the way his eyes flickered with something old and dark. It was like he was reliving it right in front of me.

“I was…addicted,” he continued, his words slow and deliberate, as if he were carefully choosing them, making sure they didn’t sound too harsh, too revealing.

“Not just to the drugs, though. That’s the easy part to talk about. Sex, women, men. It didn’t matter. None of them were you, so I didn’t care. It was more the rush of it all. The feeling of anything…just to escape my mind.

The painful memory of us. I thought if I threw myself into the chaos, it would make everything else go away. The loneliness. The emptiness.”

He paused, eyes distant. “I was searching for something. Something I thought I could find in all the wrong places…you.”

He turned his body toward me a little more, his eyes locking on mine as if waiting for me to judge him. But I didn’t because I understood. I understood that need for escape, the feeling of wanting to drown out the world, even if it was just for a little while.

That was why I became a prostitute. Trying to drown myself in bodies and money. I wasn’t able to do anything but dance, fuck, and work on my damn cars. It was the only thing I enjoyed.

“I…got someone killed. Reckless. Completely out of my mind,” he added, his voice low, almost hesitant. “A woman died because I was high off my ass on the road. I honestly didn’t care where I ended up before that.

I just wanted the pain to stop. I thought I deserved it, you know? I thought the chaos was what I deserved. But I didn’t…I didn’t realize I was dragging other people down with me. That It would cost so much.”

My hand found his, squeezing it gently.

“It was an accident,” I said, my voice steady. “You can’t punish yourself for a mistake all your life.”

Elias met my gaze, and we just stared at each other for a moment. I could see the weight of his past, the guilt still pressing on him. It wasn’t something that could be easily shrugged off, even if he wanted to.

“The accident wasn’t to me,” he said quietly. “I hurt someone, Ronan. I killed someone. They didn’t make it. Their family has to live every day without their loved one because of my actions. And that…that’s something I’ll never get away from. It’s always there.”

His eyes were filled with something raw, something torn.

“That’s when I realized I couldn’t keep living like that. I had to stop. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to fix myself or pull out of that downward spiral. I found Father Franklin, and he showed me faith. He taught me to believe in a power above myself. For the first time in so long since the pain of losing you, I felt like I was going to be okay. That’s when I made my vows. That was why I became a priest.”

I didn’t have the words to say what I wanted. I wanted to tell him that he wasn’t defined by that mistake, that it didn’t have to control his life forever. But I also knew that guilt was something he would have to learn to live with. I could be here for him, but I couldn’t take that pain away.

Instead, I just pulled him closer, my arm wrapping around his back.

“You’re not that reckless person anymore, Elias,” I whispered. “You have saved so many. Atoned for that wrong, and you’re here now. You’ve changed. You’ve fought for something better.”

He let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing against mine.

“I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But sometimes it feels like I’m still running from that old version of myself. Like I’m still dragging that weight behind me.”

I brushed my fingers through his hair, trying to offer comfort, even though I knew the path ahead wouldn’t be easy for either of us.

“You don’t have to run anymore,” I said softly. “You’ve got me now. You don’t have to carry that alone.”

Elias stayed quiet for a moment, the silence between us heavy with the weight of his words but also with a tentative understanding—an acceptance, maybe—that we were both broken in our own ways, but we didn’t have to fix each other. We just had to hold on together.

Finally, he shifted, looking up at me with a faint, almost sad smile.

“I used to think sex was the only way to feel something,” he said, the words barely above a whisper. “I thought if I could make people want me, need me, then maybe I’d feel needed—like I mattered. But…it was just a distraction. It never lasted. They weren’t you.”

I felt a pang in my chest at his words. I could hear the emptiness in them, the echo of a loneliness that ran deeper than anything I had ever known. I kissed his forehead, my fingers brushing the side of his face.

“You matter, Elias,” I said firmly. “You matter to me. More than you know. I love you, Mon Pur.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. I felt the tension in his body ease just a little, and I knew he was hearing me. I didn’t know if he could truly believe it yet, but I’d make sure he understood it, even if I had to show him every day.

We stayed like that for a long time, quiet, holding each other, sharing the fragile space between us. Our pasts would always be there, hovering in the background, but the present mattered now. And it was time we enjoyed it for what it was—a gift.

The night had wrapped around us like a blanket, heavy with silence but filled with that quiet intimacy we shared, a space where neither of us spoke much but still understood the other’s thoughts.

I could feel Elias’s breath against my skin, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and I realized it had been a long time since

I’d allowed myself truly to be this open, this vulnerable. But something about Elias, the way he never pressured me and his presence felt like an anchor, made me feel like I could say things I’d kept buried for so long.

I shifted in bed, pushing up onto my elbow to look at him, trying to gauge if this was the right moment. He didn’t say anything. His eyes showed the battle of his own past and regrets swirling deep within the beautiful blue irises.

He just stared at me with those soft, understanding eyes, like he was giving me permission to talk, even though I wasn’t sure if I was ready to say the things I had locked away.

“I…I never really talked about this,” I began, my voice hoarse, like the words were too heavy to push past my throat. “But when I moved here…when I came to Vegas, I was running away from everything. From you.” I paused, taking in a shaky breath as I let the memories flood my mind.

“Jack. We had a fight about you. It…changed everything. He threatened you. Said he would kill you if I didn’t stop…I couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine. So I took Maria to that hallway, and I ran after I broke your heart and my own. I didn’t even look back. I kept driving until my car died, and I landed in Vegas, so I stayed there.”

Elias didn’t interrupt, his hand gently finding mine in the darkness, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as if telling me he was here, listening.

“Vegas was a different beast than our small ass town. I was so fucking lost, not really knowing what I was doing or where I was going,” I continued. “But it was better than staying in Monticello, better than pretending everything was okay. I couldn’t keep looking at the pain in your eyes. The guilt ate me alive, but I couldn’t take another day of it. I needed out. So I came here and…tried to make a life for myself.”

I paused again, the weight of my next words sinking deep in my chest. I had always regretted it. Always felt ashamed.

“I started working on old cars,” I said, the hint of a smile tugging at my lips despite the heaviness of the conversation. “That’s what I really loved. I was good with my hands, you know? Cars were always a way for me to…escape. Fixing something that was broken, making it run again—it felt like I was putting myself back together in a way.”

My smile faltered.

“But I couldn’t keep doing that for long. Money didn’t come easy. I was barely scraping by, and Miranda needed me because Jack was a fucking leech even back then.”

There was a long pause, and I swallowed hard, the words I was about to say feeling like they would choke me.

“I became a stripper at first…but then I started selling tricks—my body,” I muttered, feeling the weight of the confession. It sounded so much worse when I said it out loud. My head dipped as I could feel the shame curl around my words, knotting up in my throat.

“It was the only way I could make enough money to send to my mom. I knew she was struggling back home, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her going without. So I did it. I didn’t care about the judgment, not at first. I just needed to get the money. But eventually, it broke me. Every dollar I earned felt like another piece of me I was losing.”

I waited for Elias’s response, half-expecting him to pull away, to see the judgment in his eyes, the same way I had always seen it in others when they found out what I did. Especially those monsters at the fucking prison. But there was nothing like that in his gaze.

He simply stared at me with those steady, patient eyes, his unwavering hand still wrapped around mine.

I exhaled slowly, the tightness in my chest loosening just a little, even as the words continued to weigh on me.

“I hated myself for it,” I said, my voice quieter now, raw with the regret I could never fully escape. “I hated the things I did to survive. I hated what I became. I was just trying to make it, but there’s always the part of me that felt so dirty that I’d never be good enough for anyone now, especially you. And I was terrified that you’d see me the way everyone else does…as a joke. As a failure.”

Elias’s thumb brushed over my hand again, slow and steady, his touch reassuring. There was no judgment in his eyes—no flicker of disgust, no pity. Just an understanding that made the guilt in my chest feel like a distant memory, like it wasn’t my burden to carry alone anymore.

“I get it, Ronan,” he said quietly, his voice calm and steady, his words wrapped around me like a blanket. “I really do. I understand what it’s like to feel like you’re doing something for the right reasons, even if it’s tearing you apart on the inside. We all have our own struggles, our own demons. And it’s not about what you’ve done. It’s about what you do after. Who you choose to be now.”

His hand tightened around mine just a little, his eyes locking onto mine.

“And I see you, Ronan. I see who you are now, not who you were. Your past does not define you. You’re not defined by your mistakes or what you did to survive. You are not dirty.”

I swallowed, my throat tightening at the sincerity in his voice. It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, though I knew it wasn’t something that would disappear overnight. But having Elias here, understanding me, accepting me…it was more than I could’ve ever hoped for.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Elias whispered, his words like a vow, a promise. “You don’t have to be afraid of me judging you. You don’t have to carry that shame alone.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, the fear and the guilt finally starting to dissipate. For the first time in so long, I felt like I could breathe without the weight of the past crushing me.

“Thank you,” I murmured, the words coming out barely above a whisper. “You have no idea what that means to me.”

Elias smiled softly, his eyes filled with something tender and gentle that made my heart feel full. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I’m just here for you, my Little Sinner. No matter what, I love you.”

I knew that no matter what mistakes we’d made, Elias wasn’t here to judge me anymore than I was meant to judge him. We were here to help each other heal from all the mental and physical pain of the past. And once we were able to breathe again…we could focus on our future.

Together.

Holding Elias in my arms, feeling his warmth, and understanding it was the first time since the bars of that fucking prison that I felt safe, and my body fell into a deep sleep.