Page 33 of Crossed

He glances down to Quinten, who’s crouched on the floor with three giant family-size boxes of cereal laid out in a row. “And who’s this?”

“That’s Quin, my little brother.”

He squats down to be on Quinten’s level and smiles wide, dimples creasing the sharp hollows of his cheeks. “Hey, Quin, I’m Cade.”

Quinten stares at him before grabbing the Flintstones Fruity Pebbles and shoving it in his face. “Hi. Look, a dinosaur!”

Cade’s eyes flick to the box. “You like dinosaurs?”

Quinten starts rocking in place, and my lips break into a wide smile. I’ve always loved how Quinten shows his happiness, and right now, his excitement is a tangible thing. It vibrates through his body and lights up the space like a thousand rainbow prisms reflecting the sun off a diamond.

“You like dinosaurs?Ilike dinosaurs,” Quinten says.

“Me too,” Father Cade replies, turning to me and winking. “Don’t tell anybody.”

Quinten shoots upright, jumping wildly on his toes. “Me too!”

I swear to God my chest feels like it might explode, he’s so happy and free.

A lump forms in my throat, and I will back the burn behind my eyes as I watch them together. I’m so fucking angry that this is even a thing Ihaveto feel, that someone treating Quinten like a human being is a gift and not the bare minimum.

But the truth is the truth, no matter how ugly it feels. And thetruthis that I’m not used to someone interacting with Quinten and being so…normal. Not in this town anyway. People do one of two things. They either overcompensate, trying to accommodate Quinten so much that they end up alienating him from everyone else, creating resentment with the other kids, or they avoid him all together, giving quick wide stares and ushering their own children away because he doesn’t act like them.

Guilt hits my chest that I can’t take those experiences from Quinten and lay them on my shoulders instead.

I’m not sure if Cade realizes what he’s doing, but he’s done it all the same, and gratitude fills me up so intensely I can hardly breathe.

Cade stands back up, and as he does, I take him in again, that small interaction having shifted my view of him into something else. Something softer.

He’s tall, like,reallytall. And even with mirth dancing in his eyes, he’s an imposing figure, his tousled black hair matching the darkness in his eyes and the clerical collar around his neck doing nothing but making him seem evenmoreintense. Power bleeds from his pores. He’s not evenmoving, and I feel like he’s taking up more space with every second.

My hand drops from the grocery cart’s handle as I step closer.

“You know, you’re kind of intimidating for a priest,” I blurt.

“Oh? Have you met a lot of us?”

“I’ve met enough,” I say, lifting my shoulders and walking back to my cart.

“I didn’t see you yesterday at Mass, did I?”

Laughing, I grab the Fruity Pebbles from Quinten’s hand, toss it in the basket, and then move down the aisle. “Nope.”

Father Cade follows. “Why not?”

“Because I didn’t go.”

He reaches out and touches my forearm lightly, his palm so hot it sears through my long sleeve, up my arm, and burns through my chest. I jerk to a stop, rooting my feet to the ground despite every single nerve in my body blaring like a foghorn to run the other way.

“I’ll see you next week then?”

His eyes meet mine, a challenge sparking in his gaze as his demand falls like a lyric from his lips.

I scoff. “Doubtful.”

He blinks at me, and his hand, which isstillon my arm, squeezes the smallest amount. “You’ll come.”

Then he turns around and disappears, leaving me with irritation simmering like fire beneath a boiling pot.