Page 33 of In the Light of Sin

“I thought you were a smart man, Mitchell Walker.”Even though I wasn’t physically there, I couldn’t help but snicker at how the conversation was deterred from me now.“Don’t you know the cardinal rule about never telling a woman to calm down?”

“No, but I know how to shut you up.”His tone turned husky, making my face scrunch up. I knew what was going to happen next, and I didn’t want to hear Nyla having sex with her fiancée.

“Disgusting,” Sarge mumbled before slamming his thumb on the end button, clearly not wanting to hear that either. An awkward silence settled between us, accompanied by the returned and ever so eerie silence that was this god-forsaken cabin. What could I say? I destroyed his car and his garage to chase after him because I thought he was going to get hurt.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but he cut me off, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Tomorrow we’re going to talk.”

I hated not talking it out immediately. But I was in no position to ask any favors from him. My anxiety was going to have a field day tonight, so I blurted the first thing I thought of. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.” He paused at my words, remaining stock still waiting for me to continue. “My parents died in a fit of rage because of my dad,” I confessed to him. “He and my mom were fighting over money for my hearing aids, and they left in the car…” I sucked in a breath, trying to mend the broken memory. “… And they never came back.”

“He killed them?”

I hated even thinking of it. “He purposely crashed into a tree, and I just thought…”

He cut me off, turning to face me. “I’d never do that.”

“You don’t tell me anything. You don’t let me in. All I know is that you’re ruled by your anger, and you let it cloud your judgment.” He didn’t refute. He knew I was just stating simple facts. “And if you did something reckless all because of a fight with me… I couldn’t live with myself.”

“Couldn’t do that, knowin’ you’d be here waitin’ on me.” He took a step towards me, his movement forcing me to look at him.

His words warmed me, but I still needed more. I matched his step, almost standing chest to chest with him like we did in the locker room at the Catacombs. “Could you just let me in? Even just a little bit?” I was growing desperate, grasping at anything to hang onto with Sarge. Aside from his anger issues and his ability to push me away, I knew nothing. “Do you have a name?” God, what a dumb question that was. Of course, his name wasn’t Sarge.

“Darin.” I was surprised he actually told me. This was the first piece of himself he shared with me—that wasn’t his dick. “Darin Huxley.”

“Darin Huxley,” I repeated, the name rolling off my tongue. Shivers racked through me at the little power Sarge just handed over.

“Love the way you say it.” I wasn’t expecting his praise, causing the warmth on my cheeks to spread outward. “No one’s called me Darin since—” My face fell when he abruptly stopped talking. “Go to bed.” He effectively ended our conversation. “We got lots of talking to do tomorrow.”

I didn’t argue. My legs were still tired from our excursion earlier. Instead, I smiled timidly. I knew he could see the guilt I still had for wrecking his things. “Goodnight, Sarge. Tomorrow is another day the sun will shine.”

It was a mantra I’d adopted to remind myself that no matter how I felt, the sun would always be there the next day regardless of the problems it faced. It was a comfort, knowing something could still shine despite hardships.

As I slowly made my way down the hallway, I kept waiting for him to reply like he had the night before, but he never did. Not tonight.

* * *

It was quiet.

Dare I say… too quiet?

Every morning, I put my hearing aids in, and I could hear Sarge’s footfalls from the kitchen as he made his morning coffee, but not today. Honestly, I needed some type of pain medication after how rough he was with me yesterday. My ears may have caused me pain, but after years of dealing with it, I’ve learned to block it out. When I could, that is.

What I couldn’t ignore was the throb between my legs and how tired my thighs were. I was half afraid if I tried to stand up, I wouldn’t be able to hold my own weight. Why did everything hurt worse the morning after?

I didn’t like feeling alone like this. I enjoyed mornings where I just lazed around in bed, listening to Sarge do his daily routine until I decided to grace him with my presence. At first, it was slightly awkward because he had difficulty accepting me into his reclusive space. But now, he always made an extra mug of coffee for me. He got stuff he knew I needed from his ridiculously tall cupboards and had them waiting on the counter when I walked into the room.

It was always in his clothes. And while I couldn’t see his eyes, I could feel them on me.

I stepped out of the guest bedroom, the silence sitting like a weight on my chest now. “Sarge?”

Nothing. I walked further into the house, calling his name again. “Sarge!”

Again, nothing. I stepped into the kitchen slowly, peeking around into the living room as I went. “Where could he be this early?” I mumbled to myself, checking the clock on the wall to my right. It was only eight in the morning. He didn’t like people any time of day, but his nerves were especially shot in the mornings. He was usually up at five AM to start his workout routine, the light from the hallway waking me up with each step. I’d asked him about it once, and he told me he was just working out. No rhyme or reason.

With Sarge’s muscles, I assumed he worked out for several hours each day. He sure ate like he did.

My head turned towards the hall as I pondered, directing my sight towards a room I told myself I would never venture inside of.

Sarge’s room.

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