Page 41 of Forgive Me Father

God, I forgot about confession. The idea of becoming perfectly pious crosses my mind. I’ll never sin again. That will be the plan.

"Is that Dad’s car? And look, isn’t that Zack’s Toyota?" Aiden pulls into the Saint Michael’s parking lot, heading in the direction of our dad’s black Mercedes sedan.

Aiden comes to a stop, parking next to my father, the man barely noticing we’re here as he continues to talk on the phone.

Getting out of the car, I slam my door shut behind me.

Jolting, my dad lowers his phone, his eyebrows raising as he rolls down the window.

"Cutting it close on time, Eden."

Looking back at Aiden, I roll my eyes.

"I made it, didn't I?" I cross my arms over my chest.

"I suppose so," My dad scoffs, craning his head to look at Aiden. “I'll see you both later tonight."

Leaving the conversation at that, he rolls up his window and gets back to his phone call as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road –going in the opposite direction of our house.

"I can walk you in, Eden-"

"It's fine," I smile, cramming my hands into my pockets. “I’ll see you at seven. Go help Luca set up for tonight.”

As I make my way to the front doors of Saint Michael’s, I reread Luca’s texts from earlier.

Looking forward to seeing you tonight! Haven't had a proper social in months. Feel free to feed me all the exciting details of your training with Father Briar!

(PS tell Aiden I would love some extrahelp setting up)

I make my way to the quiet space designated for altar servers to change. I close the door, turning the lock, pulling the handle a few times to make sure no one can get in.

Turning around, I see a freshly ironed, white server’s robe on one of the benches, a note placed on top.

Eden Faulkner

Glaring at the virgin white material of the robe, I roll my eyes.

"Of course you want me in this," I hiss to myself, biting back a slew of vile curses.

Growing up, every aspect of my life was controlled by my parents, down to the clothes I wore. Sundays were a parade of pristine dresses and polished shoes, symbols of a family cloaked in piety and perfection. But beneath the surface, the tight seams of my perfectly pressed clothes mirrored the suffocating grip my parents had on my identity. Each outfit they forced me into was a constant reminder of the freedom I never had.

During her first week of college, my roommate, Ivy, invited me out for drinks. I found myself at a dimly lit bar, a place my parents would never approve of. The air buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and a freedom I hadn’t known before. As the night wore on, the tight grip of my past began to loosen.

The neatly pressed blouse I had worn out of habit felt out of place in a college setting. My hair was tousled, my lipstick slightly smudged, but for the first time, I didn’t care. In a spontaneous act of defiance, I borrowed my friend’s oversized jacket, embracingits comfort. After that night, I threw away almost all the shirts my mom had bought me before leaving home.

Glaring at the mirror, a thought passes over my mind.

There aren’t any rules for what can be wornunderthe robe.

If he wants me to dress like one of his perfect little virgin servers, fine, I will.

Tearing off my hoodie, I stare at the black lace bra Zoey convinced me to buy, my breasts strangled in its overpriced material. Usually, I would never wear something like this under my clothes. But since I’ll see both Roman and Luca tonight, the idea of being a little scandalous for one, or maybe both of them, gave me the courage I needed to get out of my comfort zone. I felt like I was taking a little control back of my body.

The light from the setting sun filters through the blinds, casting shadows across my scarred skin. I take off my pants, bundling them with the rest of my clothes, and throw them in a wad in the closest empty locker.

Going back to the mirror, I look at the bruising along my neck where the makeup has started to wear off. My fingers drift to the chain with my cross, adjusting it carefully so I don’t irritate the sensitive skin. Swallowing my nerves, I pull on the white robe, kicking off my shoes as I pull my arms through the sleeves, the cold tile floor on my bare feet grounding me as I work to stifle the tension in my chest.

"Nothing’s going to happen. It’s just a few hours. You can do this.”