Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

FINNIGAN

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned a fucking lot.”

“Finnigan Shay Evans,” Father O’Flaherty reprimands me from beyond the lattice screen separating our respective sides of the confessional. He doesn’t hold back his annoyance. Not that he ever has. He has been very clear and honest about his—and God’s—opinion of my frivolous lifestyle and questionable life choices for as long as I can remember. “Mind your tongue. You will not disrespect God?—”

“Or your confessional,” I condescendingly mock his tone as I finish his sentence with an eye roll. I’ve heard the words enough over the past twenty or so years to know, with certainty, that they were coming. Father O’Flaherty has admonished me with the exact phrase nearly every time I have stepped foot inside this confessional.

Probably all well-deserved.

Actually, definitely all well-deserved.

Kneeling on the worn, tufted green cushion with my elbows resting on the prayer ledge below the lattice screen, I breathe in the familiar woodsy scent as I continue my confession, “It has been two weeks since my last confession. In that time, I have repeatedly given in to my carnal desires, both with women… and myself. Both in quite plentiful amounts, actually.”

“Do you feel remorseful?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “Actually, I thoroughly enjoyed every last minute of it all. Anyone who tells you otherwise during their confession is either lying or doing it wrong. And considering the performance I gave Crystal and Diamond on Thursday, I’m actually feeling quite proud of myself. Not that any of the other nights of the week—or other women—were any less outstanding or memorable.”

“Son, why do you come to confessional if you aren’t going to take it seriously?”

My mam .

While my brothers may not attend mass or confessional as regularly as I do, Mam was determined to raise the five of us as devout Catholics. Not that it has kept any of us on the straight and narrow . She knew we would follow after our father into this life of depravity. Which we all did. Eagerly . We all presume that church and confessional were her way of hoping we don’t all burn in hell.

In Mam’s eyes, we were always good boys at heart. She wasn’t entirely wrong in her belief. Us Evans brothers live and breathe family values. There isn’t a thing in this world we wouldn’t do for one another or the people we bring into our family. We love hard. I just happen to share my love freely. And really fucking often.

“Carnal sin, impure thoughts, and pridefulness,” Father O’Flaherty repeats my sins back to me. “I guess I should congratulate you for not taking a life this week.”

He sure is a sarcastic and patronizing fuck for a priest.

At this point, I don’t think there is much of anything I could say to surprise him. He sure takes it in stride, though . Father O’Flaherty has been taking my confessions since I was a teenager. Most weeks, he knows my confession before I have the opportunity to give it. It is the same week after week, with my debauchery and immorality, only growing since the incident with Missy O’Harrah, continuing to affirm his opinion of me. Fucking a handful— or more —of different women, getting fecked , more impure thoughts than I could possibly count, and lately killing at least a few men between visits to this little wooden box.

“About that…” I ignore his condescension. “It was a slow week, though. Only two men. And in my defense, one of them was a consequence of saving Tristan’s life.”

“While a small part of me wants to commend your admirable action of saving his life, I can’t do so with good conscience, knowing that the decisions you and your brothers make put you in that position to start with.”

Fair point.

“I would counsel or offer advice on how to mitigate your sins, Finnigan, but I am quite certain we both know that it would be a waste of both our time. Do you agree, son?”

“I’m a weak man, Father,” I lament with a shrug.

Really fucking weak for a cailín deas.

“Ten Hail Marys, and please try to refrain from your sinful ways,” Father O’Flaherty gives my penance. From his tone, it’s clear we both know I won’t be doing the latter.

“I’ll do my best, Father,” I respond, knowing damn well I will be racking up sins for my next confession by this evening. I wasn’t the only one that had a good time with Crystal and Diamond earlier this week since they’ve both texted me twice now about getting together again this evening. I give my Act of Contrition and wait for Father O’Flaherty to provide my prayer of absolution. Once he finishes, I’ll be free to walk from the confessional with a clean slate to start the new week.

When I place my hand on the knob of the confessional door, the cool metal turns in my palm, and the door pulls open, revealing a gorgeous blonde on the other side.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she gasps upon nearly joining me in the booth. More words come from her, but I’m so mesmerized by her pouty pink lips and the sparkling emerald flecks in her hazel eyes that I don’t comprehend them.

“ Go hálainn ,” I exhale. Even with her modest attire, there is no mistaking the body hiding beneath it. The well-fitted cream blouse she’s wearing does nothing to conceal the swell of her perky tits. My eyes continue to rake down her body to the tartan pencil skirt hugging her voluptuous hips and thighs.

Plaid fucking skirts are my kryptonite.

She’s so fucking stunning that I’m practically salivating over her. Every thought racing through my mind involves learning if she’s as demure in what she’s wearing underneath that blouse and skirt.

Welp, there’s one sin for next week’s confession.

Here’s hoping she leads to at least five more.