Page 78 of Sin Like the Devil

It’s not lost on me that we come from opposite worlds. I had wealth and comfort, while Raine struggled in poverty, turning over every penny he earned to fund his parents’ addiction. Two polar opposites.

But we still turned out the same. Trapped in the same broken system. Equally forgotten by society and discarded by those who are supposed to love us. Left to pick up the pieces and find our own makeshift families.

“Uncle Jonathan didn’t like having a bipolar niece. Bad for his reputation. It was easier to get far away from him and fend for myself than deal with his disgust when I had a bad episode.”

Cursing, Raine shakes his head. “What an asshole. You didn’t choose to have this illness.”

I pick at my nail bed. “He didn’t see it that way. The burden he got stuck with suddenly became a far bigger job to look after than he banked on.”

“You still talk to him?”

“Nah. Only once since I started my three years. I was desperate when I called him. He got me out of Priory Lane and transferred here instead.”

“Birthdays? Christmas?” Raine pushes expectantly.

“That would require too much effort.”

He looks pissed off on my behalf, but honestly, I don’t feel anything anymore. Not even disappointment. I already lost my parents, and when I realised that Jonathan wouldn’t replace them, I lowered my expectations.

Being alone is far easier that way.

I rely on myself, no one else.

“Rip,” Raine whispers. “Come here.”

“Hmm?”

Crooking his finger, he gestures for me to approach. As vulnerable as I should feel after revealing all that, a broken part of me wants his comfort. I want to feel arms around me. Warmth. Familiarity. It’s been so long since anyone gave an actual shit about me.

Walking over to his armchair, I tentatively crawl onto his lap. Raine grips my hips, pulling me closer so I have to spread my legs either side of his waist to straddle him. My arms wind around his neck, bringing us flush together.

His freshly squeezed orange and sea salt scent infiltrates my nostrils. I greedily breathe it in. Everything about him is vibrant, fresh, alive. For someone who struggles to perceive the world and numbs himself to escape it, he burns so goddamn bright.

I rest my head on his firm chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat pounding in my ear. Budum. Budum. Budum. The sound is an anchor, holding me in the moment. I’m savouring the feel of being held so fucking tight, tears prickle my eyes.

“You act like nothing ever hurts you,” he murmurs, tenderly brushing my cheek with his knuckles. “Being abandoned is easier to handle that way, right? When no one cares in the first place?”

Thick, bitter emotion clogs my throat. “I…”

“Don’t pretend like it isn’t true. I see you, Ripley Bennet. You’re a fierce, terrifying spitfire, but beneath this untouchable act you’ve got going on, I know deep down there’s someone who cares far too much.”

“Only about those worthy of being cared about.”

“So do I make the cut?” His chest vibrates beneath my ear.

“I’m scared, Raine,” I admit in a tiny whisper. “I’m scared of caring about you. I’m scared of what that will mean. I’m scared of losing another person who matters to me.”

“You wanna know what I’m scared of?”

I fist my fingers in the longer lengths of hair at the back of his head. “Yes.”

“When I’m with you—listening to the flick of your paintbrush, mumbling to yourself, the way your breathing speeds up when you apply that last drop of paint—I feel so fucking alive.”

His voice is so soft, it feels like a butterfly is dancing across my skin. I don’t know whether to swat at the damn thing or cup it in my palms, keeping it safe and secure from a world determined to crush its wings.

“I’ve never found that feeling from a person before. That’s what scares the shit out of me. But hell if I’m gonna let that fear take this chance away from me.”

“Raine—”

---