Page 92 of Hunt for You
“So,” he said, watching me carefully. “Why don’t we start again? I’m glad you came. What brought you here? Was it just Richard? You said the last couple days have been kind of rough. Have you had other bad news as well?”
“I found out that… I mean, Ithink,but I’m not sure. But… I think I don’t want to die.”
Sam blinked. “Okay. Just in case you aren’t sure, that’s also normal—”
“No, I mean…” I groaned and dropped my face into my hands again. And I remembered what Gerald had said about talking to people to see if they cared and how that was a risk, and one I was scared of. And he was right. I knew that. But I also thought… I thought this guy was kind. And kind of hot. And he did a job that most people couldn’t do. And I was kind of at the end of my rope and…
“Do you guys have like… attorney client privilege, or something? But like, the god version?” I asked bluntly.
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you mean you want me to tell me about a crime? Or—”
“No, I mean… if I tell you something that’s kind of… odd… do you have to keep my secrets?”
Sam’s mouth curled up in a sweet smile. “Bridget, I will keep your secrets—unless you’re going to hurt someone, or yourself, in which case I’ll try to convince you not to—I’ll always keep your secrets. And any pastor who wouldn’t isn’t listening to the God they claim to serve.”
“Okay, cool. Then… you might want to get your drink because I think this might take some time.”
Sam shrugged. “Sounds good. Do you want a cup?”
“I better not. I’ll explain why. But it’s kind of a long story.”
“Well, then. Why don’t you start talking while I get myself a drink and we’ll see where this goes?”
Oh, it’s going deep, Sir. Better clutch your rosary or whatever.
“Great, okay, so… have you ever heard ofVigorí?”
Sam frowned as he got out of his chair. “What’s that?”
“It’s a sex club in the city. Except, like, a hidden one. You have to be invited and I’ve been a member for about four years, because I have issues.”
To his credit, he didn’t miss a beat. But he also didn’t turn to look at me as he walked into the kitchen.
“So… for the purposes of being a man of God, I need to tell you… I don’t need your sex stories, Bridget. I just… you can tell me what you’re struggling with in general terms, but I don’t need details, right?”
“Are you sure?”
He huffed as he pulled a mug from the overhead cupboard. “I amcertain.”
“Okay, then well… Are you familiar with Doms and subs and all that kind of stuff?”
He went still, spooning sugar into a mug, then cleared his throat. “I mean, I understand the concept.”
His ears had gone pink. How adorable. A whole lot more of his skin was going to flush before this story was done if he was already embarrassed.
Was it a sin to embarrass a priest? Well, hopefully not.
“Great, so just so you know, I’m not technically a sub, but… I like being dominated, just… in a different way than most people want to be. And I’ve been looking for a very specific kind of Dom. And I think I found him, but there was this other guy too, and I wasn’t sure if they were the same guy…”
Sam sat at the end of the table, staring at me intently, his brow furrowed, the mug to his lips, though I was pretty sure his coffee had to be cold by now.
“You asked him tokillyou?”
I nodded and licked my lips because his eyes shadowed. But was it with judgment, or grief?
“Bridget… why would you do that?”
“Because I don’t want to be here anymore. But I don’t want to kill myself. I want to die. I just… I want to feel alive first.”