Page 42 of Dark Side of the Cloth (The Righteous 1)
It had been hours, and Mabel was still in surgery. She held her head in her hands and stared at the dried brownish blood on her shoes. Her eyes burned, her throat was raw, and she couldn’t stop the shaking. Dean had given her his coat, but she continued to shake. The images of Mabel laying helpless on the floor, her mother hanging by her neck, and Raquel reaching for her and screaming her name kept repeating on a loop in her head.
“Hey there, take this.” Dean sat down beside her and pulled her into his side. He was holding a coffee, and she took it but didn’t take a sip. “She’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that. Everyone I love dies. I think I’m cursed.”
Dean squeezed her shoulder and laid his chin on her head. Any other time she would’ve been excited to have him this close. To share a sweet moment with the two of them holding onto one another, but not now, not here, and not like this.
“You’re not cursed, and I know she is going to be okay because the nurse just came out and said they were not finished, but it looked like Mabel is going to pull through the surgery.”
Yasmine sat up straight, her heart skipping in her chest. “Really?”
“Yes, she stopped me on my way back with the coffees. She is a tough old bird, don’t sell her short.” Yasmine covered her mouth, a smile breaking out on her face as fresh tears fell.
She instinctively wrapped her arms around Dean’s neck and buried her head.
“Thank you, thank you for coming to this town, for saving her, and for staying with me. I can’t find the words to thank you for everything.”
“Where else would I be?” She leaned back and stared into his hazel eyes. She had no idea what was happening to her, but she was falling for this forbidden man. She was going to get burned. There was no way around it. You don’t fall in love with a priest, and it not go badly.
“I’ll always look after you,” Dean whispered in her ear.
She closed her eyes and hugged him again as her heart constricted in her chest—she was definitely doomed.
* * *
Dean sat in the surprisingly comfortable hospital chair and took turns staring at Yasmine and Mabel. Yasmine was in the opposite chair, curled up in a ball across the room with his jacket still wrapped around her body. He liked seeing her like that, relaxed and wearing something of his—it stirred more than simply the carnal lust he always felt for her. Then again, she could’ve been wearing a wet paper bag, and it would’ve looked ravishing on her. She was slowly becoming his kryptonite, and the question remained—was he okay with that, or did he need to get out now?
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and stared at his knuckles. They were marked up from the fight at the diner. He could have killed him, should have killed him, for what he did to Mabel—for putting Yasmine’s life in danger. The guy was a kid, no more than nineteen and high as a kite on something. Dean figured he aimed to steal from Mabel, taking advantage of the quiet night in the diner. He would find him, and he would give him what he had coming to him.
Dean cracked his knuckles as he envisioned finishing what he started to the guy’s face.
“I hope that look isn’t for me?”
Dean’s head snapped up, and he smiled as he stared into Mabel’s eyes. “You gave us quite the scare. Let me wake Yasmine. She’ll want to talk to you.”
“No, wait a minute.” Mabel held out her hand to him, and he went to her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took her hand in his. Mabel’s eyes drifted to Yasmine, and tears shimmered in their depths. “We need to have a little chat.”
Dean lifted a brow inquisitively. “We do?” About what?”
“First, the young man that attacked me, his name is Jeremy Whyte, but I’m going to ask you not to kill him.” Dean sat up straight, shock racing through his system—he searched Mabel’s face for any sign of a joke but saw none.
“What makes you think I would do something like that?”
Mabel sighed and tried to push herself up a little straighter. He quickly stood and gave her a hand, then sat an extra pillow behind her back.
“Well, son, I wasn’t born yesterday. Let’s just say I have my suspicions, even though I don’t have concrete evidence.” She cocked her head as she looked at him. “I certainly know you are no priest, but I have known that from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Dean sucked in a deep breath, his heart pounding a little harder. Had he really been so transparent?
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I think you’re good for this town. More importantly, I think you’re good for her.” Mabel nodded toward Yasmine’s sleeping form.
“I don’t understand.”
“Oh, come now, don’t play dumb. We were overrun with debauchery in this small sleepy town, and no one wanted to face it or talk about it. And the good Lord knows, the folks in this town were doing nothing about it. Then you came to town, and suddenly people with questionable morals go missing. The lowest of the low are being flushed out, and our town is slowly feeling safer. Sort of like God placed a miracle of his own in the middle of this place to help us out.” Mabel squeezed his hand. “I don’t believe in coincidences, and I certainly don’t believe that just because there has been an uptick in confessions that has turned people around.”
Dean nodded slowly. He hadn’t looked at it like that—what was more worrisome was that if Mabel noticed, then someone else might as well.
“Okay, so let’s pretend for a moment that this theory of yours is true. Why would you choose not to say anything?”
