Fourteen years ago, on the banks of Craving’s Creek, Ryde swore to his best friend Alistair he’d never be alone in the world. Though Alistair was destined for the priesthood, there was something beyond holy about the first kiss they shared. But a fun camping trip went horribly wrong when Alistair was involved in a horrific incident. Now, at age thirty-one, Ryde’s life is a mess of alcohol and the painful imprint of his last look into Alistair’s desperate eyes. Since the evil they encountered on that shore, his first love has been lost to him ... until he learns a friend’s wedding is to be officiated by a priest named Father Alistair Genet. Amid the rush of emotions, one thought crystallizes: Ryde’s love for Alistair has never died. It’s stronger than ever. But can it win over the repressed memories slowly tearing Alistair’s mind apart?

Craving's Creek

In a way, they’d lost their boy too. My mother never wrote again. I remember waking one afternoon to the sound of her screaming. She was smashing things in her bedroom. Her typewriter. Her desk. She’d broken all her pens and her hands were covered in ink, and she stood there, mad, sobbing, surrounded by shredded manuscripts. “It was my fault!” she’d screamed that day. Alistair was her responsibility and she never forgave herself.


“Mom,” I say gently, suddenly understanding the immensity of her own tragedy, “I’m sorry.”


She looks at me, confused. This is the moment she’s been waiting for, so she waits a little longer for me to finally tell her what she needs to hear, her lips trembling.


“I’m so sorry,” I say again, and go to her. “I know I put you and Dad through so much. Too much. And I wish I could just—”


“No, baby, no,” she says, and I know she can’t take this. She’s not ready for more. “It’s okay. You’re better now. You’re coming back to us.”


Chapter 42