I curled my hand into a fist.Don’t go there, man.
Keaton and Layne exchanged a few words I couldn’t understand, followed by laughter—definitely at my expense—then water sloshed.
“I’m going inside so you and Keaton can talk,” Layne said from somewhere behind me. “It’s good to see you, Brother Samuel.” The smile in her voice instantly lifted my mood. Despite her suffering, she always exuded peace. Never complained. Always clung to God.
“You, too.” I waited till the sliding door whooshed, then I turned to Keaton, who still sat in the hot tub, arms spread along the edge. And that signature smirk on display that had women falling at his feet. But Keaton only had eyes for his wife now. He’d come a long way.
He ran a hand through his wavy black hair as I approached. “You have terrible timing, champ.”
“My apologies. I should’ve—”
“Relax. We were just chillin’.” Grinning, Keaton got out of the hot tub and wrapped a towel around his black swim trunks. His ripped and tanned physique was a dead giveaway that he still modeled. “Let’s go to the lounge.”
We settled on the comfortable cushions framed by rich teak. Smoke rose from the fire pit table in the middle.
“What’s up?” Keaton asked.
I rubbed my clammy hands on my habit. “Remember when I told you about that scantily-clad lady who attends Mass sometimes? How my thoughts derail?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve had a guest for the past couple weeks. Harley.” I swallowed. “She’s very attractive.”
Keaton leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Since she’s around, I’ve been battling . . . unsavory thoughts. Lust and sexual desire. It’s been plaguing me. A lot.”
“Then you better keep your distance. Sexual immorality and all.”
Blood rushed in my ears so hard I could barely hear my next words. “It’s too late.”
Keaton’s brows drew together. “What do you mean? You kissed her?”
“I slept with her. Twice.”
With the life Keaton had lived before marrying Layne, there wasn’t much that could shock him when it came to sexual immorality. But the blank stare he gave me . . .
I buried my face in my hands. “What do I do, man? What do I do? I messed up beyond redemption.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Keaton squeezed my shoulder. “Crap happens.”
“No, it doesn’t. Not to a monk.” He didn’t understand the position I was in. Being a monk was all about rigorous self-discipline. About preferring nothing to Christ and allowing nothing to separate me from His love. I had vowed to stay faithful to God and serve Him.
Instead I’d done the complete opposite. I’d given into my flesh. Sought fleeting pleasure over my Savior’s everlasting love.
And I’d scorned His sacrifice as though the cross held no weight.
More than once.
Unbidden tears stung my eyes.God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.
“Ah, crap.” Keaton settled next to me, cupped the back of my neck, and pulled me into a hug.
For the longest time we sat there, me crying in his arms. The fact that I sought solace and advice from him proved just how farI’d fallen. At the same time, I was grateful I had him. He was the big brother I needed.
I finally pulled away. Roughed my hands over my wet face. “Haven’t told the abbot yet, but I’ll probably get expelled.” I gritted my teeth. “Losing my chance to become a priest or having to leave Saint James isn’t even the worst part. It’s what I did to God after everything He’s done for me.”
Silence stretched between us. Then Keaton cleared his throat. “Look, I know we grew up with conditional love.” He scoffed. “Can’t even call it love. Anyway, isn’t the Bible all about people being idiots and messing up, and God forgiving them? His unconditional love? You need to cut yourself some slack, champ.”
