Page 13 of Biblical Knowledge (Divine Temptations #3)

Chapter Eleven

Henry

* * *

The windshield wipers beat back and forth like a metronome set too fast, squealing against the glass as rain hammered down in sheets.

Noah’s dented silver Corolla rattled with every gust of wind, the thin metal frame barely standing between us and the chaos outside.

Headlights from oncoming cars smeared across the wet road, hazy and distorted, and my chest tightened every time Noah’s tires hissed through standing water.

I sat stiff in the passenger seat, hands clasped in my lap so tightly my knuckles ached.

I knew Noah wanted to talk—that was the only reason he’d told me to wait for him, the only reason I was in this car instead of hiding in my apartment, licking my wounds.

But now that we were actually headed to his place, I had no idea what words would come out of my mouth.

I’d lived my whole life in silence, burying my truths under layers of obedience, ritual, and fear.

And now—now, for the first time—I could see the faintest hint of light breaking through. And it terrified me.

A jagged flash of lightning split the sky, followed a second later by a crack of thunder so loud it made the steering wheel jump in Noah’s hands. I flinched despite myself. That was when I felt his palm press gently against my knee. Warm. Steady. Anchoring.

“You okay?” His voice was soft, almost swallowed by the storm, but I heard it. Felt it.

The easy answer rose immediately, reflexive: I’m fine. Sure. Okay. But the words stuck in my throat. What good had platitudes ever done me? What life had they bought me except one filled with shame and loneliness? The truth broke out instead, raw and uneven.

“No,” I said, voice cracking. “I’m really not well.”

Noah glanced at me, eyes shining from the glow of the dashboard, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “What’s going on?”

I swallowed hard. My chest ached. The words were there, a storm of their own, but too jagged to release on this narrow stretch of road. So instead, I covered his hand with mine, squeezing it like I might drown without something to hold onto.

“I’ll tell you,” I said, forcing the words out. “When we get to your place.”

Rain drummed harder against the roof, a steady roar that filled the car.

My reflection stared back at me in the dark window, ghostly and worn, and my mind spiraled into places I’d fought to avoid.

How the hell was I going to tell my family?

My parents had raised me to be a priest—the dutiful son offering his life to God.

And here I was, not only abandoning that path, but stepping outside the church altogether.

And if that weren’t enough, the final nail in the coffin: I was gay.

I could already hear my mother’s sharp intake of breath, my father’s silence like a wall slamming down. Disappointment. Condemnation. A family name soured. Would they see me as lost? Broken? Or worse—damned?

My throat closed. I pressed my face into one hand and exhaled, long and heavy, a sound dragged from somewhere deep in my chest.

That was when Noah touched me again. His hand, warm and certain, settled on my shoulder, rubbing slow circles that made my heart stutter. A gesture so simple, yet it cracked something open inside me, reminding me I wasn’t entirely alone.

The Corolla bumped into the lot outside his apartment building, the tires splashing through puddles. Noah shifted into park, and for a moment the storm outside seemed to pause, suspended around us. Then he killed the engine, and the silence was deafening.

“Come on,” he said.

We flung the doors open at the same time, rain lashing at us the instant we stepped out.

The wind whipped my shirt against my body as we sprinted across the slick pavement, shoes splashing through water that soaked my socks instantly.

Lightning flashed again, throwing the apartment building into stark white relief, and then we were inside, breathless, dripping, the storm pounding on the door behind us like it wanted in.

The lobby smelled faintly of rain and bleach.

A fluorescent light above us flickered, buzzing softly, casting Noah’s face in uneven shadows.

We stood side by side before the elevator, waiting, and I couldn’t seem to stop wringing my hands.

My damp shirt clung to my back, chilled against my skin, and when I caught the reflection of myself in the brass elevator doors, I hardly recognized the man staring back.

Hollow-eyed. Unshaven. A ghost in borrowed clothes.

I wanted to meet Noah’s gaze, but instead I fixed on the numbers above the door, watching them blink down toward us with agonizing slowness.

Each second felt like another chance to bolt.

The elevator arrived with a ding, doors yawning open, and we stepped inside.

Noah pressed the button for the seventh floor, then slipped his hands into his pockets, and silence swelled between us.

I could feel him beside me, solid and warm, but I couldn’t bring myself to look his way.

My chest ached with everything unsaid. The thought that I might lose him—before I’d even let myself have him—made my stomach twist. I swallowed hard, my throat tight, and counted the floors as we rose.

One. Two. Three. Each number lighting up felt like a countdown to something I wasn’t ready for.

When we reached his floor, Noah unlocked the door to his apartment and let me step in first. The place was small but tidy, books stacked neatly on shelves, the faint smell of sandalwood lingering in the air.

A blanket was folded carefully over the back of the couch, as if waiting for me.

He took my drenched jacket without a word and hung it on a hook by the door, then asked, softly, “Do you want something warm to drink? Tea, maybe?”

I shook my head too quickly, muttering, “No.” My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat and perched on the very edge of his couch, stiff as a statue.

The cushions dipped under my weight, and I held myself like I might shatter the moment I leaned back.

Noah sat beside me, close enough that I felt the heat radiating from him.

“Breathe,” he said gently. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be okay. ”

I tried to believe him, but the words only made the pressure in my chest worse.

His eyes searched mine, earnest and worried.

“I thought… you didn’t want to see me again.

After you left my bed in the middle of the night, and then you didn’t show up for class this morning—I thought I’d scared you off for good.

” He shook his head, brow furrowed. “Henry, just—please. Tell me everything.”

I sat there, hands knotted in my lap, staring down at the carpet as if it could swallow me whole.

The words clung to my throat like barbed wire.

“I went to church this afternoon,” I said finally, my voice hoarse.

“I don’t even know why. Some part of me thought maybe I could…

I don’t know… find peace there. Like muscle memory dragging me back. ”

I closed my eyes, and the musty smell of incense filled my mind again, the dim light slanting across the altar.

“I slipped into a pew and it was like sitting in a stranger’s house.

I didn’t belong there anymore. But an old priest came up to me and I asked if I could make a confession.

Thought maybe it would help. Maybe if I said it out loud, if I emptied all the rot out of me, I’d feel clean. ”

My fists tightened against my knees. “I told him everything. About the seminary. About the years I spent trying to bend myself into the shape of a priest. How I walked away right before the final vows because the weight of my doubts was crushing me. I told him I couldn’t stop questioning, couldn’t stop feeling like the whole foundation was cracked.

And I told him…” My throat closed. I forced the words out anyway.

“I told him about men. That I’ve always wanted them.

That I’ve prayed night after night for it to be taken away, and it never was.

And—” I turned to Noah, my face burning, my shame bleeding into the air between us.

“I told him that last night, for the first time in my life, I acted on it. That I had sex with a man.”

The confession hung there, heavy and raw. My chest tightened until it hurt to breathe.

“The priest listened,” I went on, though my voice shook now, almost a whisper.

“And he said it was normal. That it was normal to feel that way.” A hollow laugh slipped from me.

“Normal. But then he told me the truth the way the church sees it. That acting on my desires was a sin. That it was wrong outside of the sacrament of marriage.” I snapped my head up at Noah, anger sparking through the tears in my eyes.

“Marriage. As if men like us are even allowed that in the catholic church. As if the church hasn’t spent centuries barring the doors, locking us out, damning us with their rules. ”

“Jesus, Henry, I’m so sorry.” Noah breathed.

“It was cruel.” I continued. “The church holds out hope in one hand, and rips it away with the other. He told me to carry this hunger like a cross. To deny myself, forever, because that’s what God demands.”

My voice broke, and the fury crumbled into something smaller, something helpless.

“I couldn’t bear it. I walked out of that confessional shaking.

No, not walked—I bolted. And when I hit the steps outside, I fucking spit on them.

I spit on holy ground.” My fingers dug into the couch cushion.

“That’s when I knew I couldn’t go back. That everything I’d built my life on was gone.

And I hated myself for feeling so damned relieved. ”

I dragged both hands through my hair, tugging hard, my breath ragged. “So I went searching for you. Because after all that, all I could think about was you. I don’t even know what that means, but God help me, Noah—I wanted to be here. With you.”

Noah’s hand slid into mine, warm and steady, and I felt the rough pad of his thumb brush against my knuckles. “I have something I need to confess too,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

I lifted my free hand to swipe at the dampness on my face. My tears embarrassed me, but Noah only squeezed my hand harder, like he was grounding me.

“Henry,” he said softly, his voice catching in that way that made my pulse throb in my throat, “I’m so damn proud of you.

Learning who you really are—it isn’t easy.

Letting go of the beliefs that have cut you down your whole life?

That’s one of the hardest journeys a man can ever take.

But you’re walking it. You’re surviving it. And you’re stronger than you realize.”

His words pierced me deeper than religion ever had, reaching that raw, hollow place in my chest that had been starved of comfort.

Noah inhaled, then let out a shaky laugh.

“And the truth is, all I can think about is you. I’ve never had feelings like this before.

I was fine being on my own—sometimes lonely, sure, but fine.

Until you. You’re not just handsome, Henry.

You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re…” He faltered, his grip tightening on my hand.

“I don’t even know if I’m saying this right, but—would you ever consider… us? Being something more?”

He rushed ahead before I could even breathe. “I don’t want to pressure you. I know you’re going through so much, and I’ll wait, I swear I’ll wait, but—”

I couldn’t let him finish. His words, so raw and full of yearning, shattered the last of my restraint. I leaned forward and kissed him, hard and hungry, pouring into him everything I’d been choking down for years—my fear, my longing, my desperate need to be wanted, to be seen.

His lips parted beneath mine, and I lost myself in the taste of him, in the heat of his breath, in the way his fingers clutched at me like he’d never let go. The kiss deepened, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I was sinning. I felt like I was finally alive.

When I pulled back, my forehead rested against his, both of us breathing hard. My voice was ragged, torn straight from my chest.

“Yes,” I whispered, then firmer, with a conviction I hadn’t known I possessed. “Yes, Noah. I can’t think of anything I’d love more.”