Page 76 of Sin Like the Devil

“Smells sweet to me.”

“Don’t complain about my choice of location for our first date.”

“This is our first date?” He grins, waggling his eyebrows.

Smooth, Ripley.

“Back to the topic at hand.” I shake my head, glad he can’t see my embarrassment. “Why did your dickhead manager lock you up in a psych ward?”

He smothers his grin, straightening his posture. “Several trips through rehab failed. I kept messing up my shows, and my reputation was trashed. Calvin intervened. He sits on his ass and lives off my tidy salary now.”

“Intervened… by getting you interred?”

“I mean, he acted like Priory Lane was some award-winning, state of the art shit. Far better than the hellish rehabs I’d spent years failing at. Stupid me thought this was my chance to get clean.”

A beam of weak sunlight illuminates his face. The golden boy. Nimble fingers and perfect smiles. He’s the full package, but beneath the act, Raine’s just as broken as the rest of us. Perhaps even more so.

“When was your first trip to rehab?”

He smacks his lips together. “Fifteen, I think.”

“Jesus. Really?”

“I grew up with addicts for parents. It wasn’t hard to get curious about what they were snorting and shooting on a daily basis. The fear of drugs that most kids have was never instilled in me.”

“They still alive? Your parents?”

“Apparently.” Raine smooths back a loose strand of hair. “Haven’t seen them since I lost my vision. They bailed real fast when I couldn’t work and bring in money for them to snort anymore.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Yeah, they were shit. Tried to come crawling back when my music became popular. I told them I never wanted to see them again.”

Working up the courage to dig deeper, I try to keep my voice light. Even though he said he’s an open book, it still feels rude to ask. I’ve wanted to know what happened to him since the moment we met.

“You were eighteen when you lost your vision, right? What happened?”

He nods. “Dirty needles.”

“You used to shoot up?”

“Yeah, until I developed Endophthalmitis. Left the infection untreated for too long. By the time I got to the hospital, the doctors could only do damage control. My retinas were destroyed by scarring.”

My heart squeezes, picturing a younger, terrified version of him curled up in a hospital bed. Alone and exploited. Paying the price of shitty parenting and a lifetime of bad decisions. He deserved so much better.

“Christ, Raine.”

Curling lashes frame his caramel-hued eyes. I don’t know how he can imbue his gaze with such emotion when he lives in perpetual blackness, but it’s there. Fear embroiled in curiosity. A hint of challenge coiled around his pinprick pupils.

“If I’d never picked up a needle, I would still have my vision.” He folds the glasses then places them on his violin case. “I wouldn’t be trapped here. My life… it could’ve been so different.”

“I’m sorry,” I reply with empathy.

“It’s not so bad, I guess.” Raine smirks in his typically confident way. “I’m in an abandoned pool house with a beautiful girl. My life could definitely be worse.”

“You still have no idea what I look like.”

He wiggles his fingers. “I got a good feel.”

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