I stare at the large cross at the center of the church. Iâve never sat in these pews. Iâve never even entered this church, but today I felt compelled to go.
I couldnât go back home to Aria after the filth I sat through, the things I heard. Not that this place will help. Aria told me that this is where Ida and George met. They attended church together, but that clearly couldnât save George from his twisted mind, nor Ida from her fate.
Despite all of that, I find myself here, where it all started. I find myself staring up at the cross, part of me hoping that thereâs some sort of purpose to all of this. Was everything that happened pre-destined? Was I meant to exist, or am I truly just the personification of my fatherâs sins?
I can only assume I was left here because my grandfather blamed the church for what happened. Because he thought they should take care of the consequences of the crimes they failed to prevent. I chuckle to myself, the sound reverberating through the empty church. Itâs all absurd, really.
My eyes fall closed when I hear the clicking of heels resounding through the halls. I should have known. I should have known my girl would find me anywhere I go. I stare at the cross as she gets closer. I donât need to turn and look to know itâs her. My heart knows.
If a God does exist, then he must have been the one to send her to me. She is all that is good in this world.
Aria slides in next to me, and I turn my head to look at her. Sheâs beautiful. She always is, but today her beauty stirs my very soul. Seeing her calms the viscousness that claws at me. The thoughts I canât keep at bay are silenced when I look into her eyes.
âWhat are you doing here?â I ask, my voice soft.
She smiles, but I see the hurt in her eyes. I hate that Iâm doing this to her. I might be hurting, but she is too, because of me. She wraps her arms around herself and leans back, her eyes turning to the cross Iâd just been studying.
âMy home is wherever you are, Grayson. Since you werenât at the apartment, I came here.â
Pain, hope, and fear all melt together as I stare at her. I donât deserve her. She might be the best thing thatâs ever happened to me, but I canât be that to her. Sheâs such an incredible woman, and she deserves better. She deserves better than a rapistâs son.
âYou should go,â I whisper, willing myself to say the words.
Aria looks back at me and grins. âFunny how you think you can tell me what to do. Iâve never been very good at listening to instructions⦠youâd think youâd know that by now.â
I fall silent and look at her. Sheâs incredible, and Iâll ruin her. I know I will. âAria,â I murmur. âPlease leave. You⦠you canât be with a man like me. You canât. You have such a bright future ahead of you. Youâre beautiful, intelligent, funny â youâre incredible. Donât waste that on me.â
She sits in silence, as though sheâs thinking through my words, and it kills me. It hurts to have her walk away, but she must. I canât taint her. Not her.
âI think youâre misunderstanding the whole church thing,â she says, frowning. âJust because Jesus was a martyr doesnât mean you need to be.â
I look down at my hands, feeling conflicted. âAria, didnât you see the video? Iâm the son of a rapist. That man⦠that vile creature⦠his blood flows through my veins. You and I donât have a future together.â
She looks into my eyes, and the certainty I see in them startles and humbles me all at once.
âThe man you were last week, and the man you are today⦠are they two different people?â
My eyes fall closed in an effort to hide the agony Iâm feeling. She doesnât get it. Right now she might not think much of the situation, but reality will soon sink in. And when it does, sheâll no longer look at me that way.
âIâve been here. Maybe not quite in the same way, but I know what itâs like to have your entire life fall apart around you. I did exactly what you did when I lost my parents. I shut everyone out. I lost my ability to speak, and I convinced myself no one could ever remotely like me with all my flaws, my traumas, my pain.â
Her lips tip up into a bittersweet smile, and she grabs my hand, holding it in both of hers. âI love you, Grayson. Who your parents are doesnât affect me in the slightest. The only thing I care about is how it affects .â
I laugh mockingly, unable to hide my disbelief. âYou say that now, but youâll change your mind, eventually.â I turn to her, agony almost crippling me. âTell me, Aria. Would you ever have children with me, knowing what type of DNA theyâd inherit?â
She tilts her head in question and looks me square in the eye. âTell me, Grayson. Would you ever have children with me knowing theyâd have a mother that continuously has nightmares? That canât go to sleep without checking every single lock in the house? A mother thatâll suffocate them because sheâd always be worried about their safety?â She looks away and shakes her head. âI donât know if I want children, Gray. Iâm not cut out to have them, and it wouldnât be fair to them. It wouldnât be fair to have them if I canât raise them in a healthy way. What I do know is that if I ever want children, Iâd want them with you.â
âAria,â I say, my tone terse. âDonât you ever say anything like that. Donât even think it. Youâd make a great mother. Any children would be lucky to have you.â
She raises her hand to my face, stroking my stubble with the back of her hand. âWhy? Because my past doesnât define my future, the way yours doesnât either?â
She cups my cheek, and I place my hand over hers, staring into her eyes. âItâs not the same, Aria.â
She smiles at me, her eyes filled with the same sorrow Iâm feeling. âIt is, Gray. You just donât see it yet. But you will. Iâll spend the rest of our lives convincing you if I must.â
I want to believe her, but all I can think about is my fatherâs words. The vileness I saw in his eyes last night left me wondering if that same evil has infected me, too. I worry that itâs a slow-acting poison, something I have no control over, something I might not even realize is affecting me. Not until itâs too late.
I canât take that risk with Aria. I canât risk hurting her.