Chapter 31: Lust: Chapter 31

It’s now been six days. Six days of hearing almost nothing from her. I’ve been texting daily asking when we can get together, and she’s been putting me off. She finally gave me more than a few words yesterday when she told me we needed to wait until after Livvy and Cole’s wedding to have our talk, that she’s too busy to talk now.

Why am I so desperate to talk to her? It’s not like it will change anything. The best way to show her how much I love her is to remove myself from her life. She deserves so much more than a self-indulgent, broken man.

I run my finger over the worn-out leather on the couch. The whole room smells like beer, and I’ve never felt older in my life. Here I am, sitting in the living room of a frat house, seeking comfort from my baby brother who’s now all I have left in the world.

“Do you think Hector really means it?” Ethan asks.

“Yes,” I say immediately. “He’s a man of firm principles. I admired him for it even before I became a Christian. After the way you and I grew up…” I shake my head. “I need people in my life who remind me that not all men are capricious and selfish.”

Ethan scowls. “You’re not capricious or selfish.”

I raise a hand in the air. “Obviously, I am. Look what I did.”

“Yeah, but you did that because you fell in love with Mari.”

I shake my head. “I behaved recklessly before I fell in love with her. I hate to put it so crassly, but I was thinking with my dick.”

“I just can’t believe that. It was so clear to me from the beginning that you had real feelings for her.”

I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. “If my heart had been in the right place, I would have done it all differently. I would have told Hector right away that I couldn’t in good conscience court Sofia, that the person I really wanted was Mariana. The truth is that I’m just as driven by lust as Dad. It’s a generational curse.”

Ethan scoffs as he pushes up from the couch and walks toward the kitchen. “I’m going to get you a beer.”

I can’t help but smile at my non-drinking brother wanting to dull my pain with alcohol. I must really look like a mess.

When he comes back, he’s holding a small glass with amber liquid inside. I frown in question, and he lifts a brow. “I figured you needed something stronger than beer.”

“I appreciate it,” I say as I take the drink from his hand and throw down a burning sip.

Ethan plops back down on the couch. “I don’t think I’m as fucked up from Dad as you are.”

I’m startled by his use of the word “fuck.” Ethan rarely swears. “Why do you say that?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I hate what he did to my mom. And even more that he’s never really apologized for it—to me or to her—but I don’t feel like it has anything to do with who I am. I’m not going to be a cheater just because my dad is.”

I groan. “I take after him more than you do.”

“But you don’t, though. You’re nothing like him. I love Dad, but I can only handle him in small doses. I usually screen his calls and return them, like, a month later.”

I laugh humorlessly. “Me too.”

Ethan’s eyes fix on my face. “You’re nothing like him. You’re the most dependable person in my life. As much as I love my mom, she’s…distant sometimes. But not you. Not ever. I’d be lost without you.”

His words squeeze my chest, making my vision cloud over. I clear my throat, fighting back tears. “Well, I am old enough to be your dad. I have to live up to it.”

He shakes his head sharply. “Don’t minimize it. You’ve been there for me, and I was dad’s love child, but you never took it out on me. You were never jealous, even back when he was still married to my mom. If you were, you certainly never showed it.”

I scowl. “How could I take it out on you? You were a baby. My only brother.”

Ethan leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And I think you always knew that I needed you. You’re there for the people who need you. That means something. That’s someone who has principles. You’re not like Dad.”

I swallow to fight the sob threatening to work its way out. I never thought twice about my love for Ethan and its effect on him. It was always a given.

If only my love for Mariana could be the same. Enough to wipe away the misery I caused her and her family.

But it’s so much deeper than that. My love for her borders on obsession. Ethan is wrong that I’m not like our dad. I’m so like him. I just happen to be more loyal.

I’ll never stop wanting Mariana, but my need for her will suffocate her boundless spirit. A few years of my love—maybe even months—and she’d resent me for it. She’d resent me for trying to hoard her away, steal the most unencumbered years of her life.

Loving her means letting her be free.

Even when the thought alone is like death.

Mariana

My dad’s expression is grim. He’s barely looked at me since he let me inside the house. My mom has been a little better—asking me about when she needs to buy my grad school textbooks and if I need any “school clothes”—trying to pretend like nothing has changed these past few weeks.

Sofia is my rock. She’s sitting on the couch beside me, but she doesn’t know why I called this little family meeting. Even though I know she might be as hurt as they are when she hears what I have to say, at least she now has a bit of empathy after what she sees as her fall from grace.

“I have to say something that is going to probably hurt.” My voice is surprisingly firm. “But I just have to say it.”

My dad’s expression doesn’t change, but both my mom and Sofia frown.

It’s now or never. “I’m an atheist.”

The words linger in the air. My mom and Sofia’s eyes grow impossibly huge.

“What?” My mom’s mouth is hanging open.

“Are you being serious right now?” Sofia asks.

My dad doesn’t look up, but his jaw ticks. He was probably expecting this. He, more than anyone else, seemed to read the warning signs from the beginning.

Which is why he tried so hard to steer me in a different direction.

I sigh. “It’s not like I’m a murderer. I’m just an atheist. I have been for a while.”

Mom’s eyes well with tears, her fingers clenching the fabric of the couch armrest. Fuck. I knew this was coming. I knew she would cry.

This is okay. This is fine.

This is me accepting myself.

“But…you’ve been going to church.” Sofia blinks rapidly, as if trying to make sense of my confession.

I sigh, looking down at my hands. “Yes. I had reasons for that. Partly, I was trying to please you all. And partly…” I huff out a nervous laugh. “I was horny for Brandon.”

“Mari,” my mom scolds.

Dad’s nostrils flare as he meets my eyes for the first time. “It’s because of him, isn’t it? He drove you away from God.” He shakes his head. “I never should’ve trusted him.”

I scowl. “He’s a damn pastor, Dad. How could he drive me away from God?”

“Through his sin.” He raises his voice. “He was supposed to be an example for you.”

I let out a long sigh. “Dad, I don’t believe in sin.”

His eyes widen, but it doesn’t deter me.

I raise my chin. “You can’t blame Brandon for something you’ve seen coming since I was a little girl. You know you have.”

He looks away. “You’re just passionate. It’s part of your journey. God’s going to use you to do wonderful—”

“No, Dad.” I shake my head sharply. “I can’t be used by a God who doesn’t exist. I know he exists for you. For all of you—” I gesture to Mom and Sofia “—but he doesn’t exist for me. I’ve tried my entire life to believe, but I can’t. I wish I could. It would make my life so much easier…” My throat grows tight. “But I can’t.”

A whimper draws my attention to my mom, but I can’t look her way. It’s hard enough to say all of this without having to provide comfort for her grieving my lost soul.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Sofia asks, her tone full of indignation.

I take a moment to collect my thoughts. “I was afraid you wouldn’t see me the same way. That you wouldn’t love me the same way.”

She inhales sharply. “That’s crap, Mari. Don’t put that on us. We never said you had to be a Christian for us to love you. I mean, I am worried about you because atheism…” She shakes her head. “It’s a total rejection of God. I hope you take some time to really think about the consequences.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Thanks, sis. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t get sarcastic, Mariana Isabel,” my mom says.

I can’t help but smile at the way she trills my name.

“This is a really big deal,” Sofia says.

I sigh. “I know.”

“Yes, it is,” my dad says, his voice biting. “And yet she never said anything about it until Brandon took advantage of her.”

I whip my head in his direction. Rage makes that spirit of rebellion rise like a geyser within me. “Brandon didn’t take advantage of me, Dad, because I’m not a fucking child. I love him. I love him with all my heart—” my voice cracks “—and I think he loves me too. But he’s too stubbornly set in his antiquated ways, just like you. I’m the one who’s hurt by it. That’s what you being like this—” I wave a hand at him “—does. It hurts people like me.”

His expression falters. “Did…” He licks his lips. “Did I hurt you?”

I strain my mouth to keep my lips from quivering. “Yes. You hurt me by interfering in my life. By making me feel like I’m not good enough if I don’t follow God.”

He takes an unsteady breath. “I love my children no matter what. You know that.”

“Do I?” My voice cracks.

His eyes grow glassy. “Mari—” He gulps back a sob. “I don’t want you to think… I love you. I love you more than my own life.”

My mom nods jerkily. “We love you, Mari. You can be an atheist. You can be anything you—” Her voice breaks.

My dad sets his hand on my mom’s thigh. “What your mom means is that our love is not conditional. It never was. I’m heartbroken to hear—”

When he gulps back a sob again, a warm trickle falls down my cheek. I can’t stand it when my dad cries. I’ve only ever seen it a handful of times in my entire life.

“I’ll always pray for you,” he chokes out. “Because I love my Lord, and I want all my children to experience the miracle that I have. But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

I nod jerkily. “That’s okay. It’s your relationship with God, not mine.”

“Can we still go to church together?” Sofia asks.

I manage a smile. “Sure. We can go to church. Not Brandon’s church anymore, of course. But if we found another pastor who’s really educated on Bible history, I’d love to go with you.”

“And I won’t pressure you anymore,” my dad says. “I don’t want you to feel…” He shuts his eyes. “You can believe whatever you want.”

I reach out and take his hand, and he squeezes mine so tightly it almost hurts.