Page 72 of In the Light of Sin

That was until he roared, taking the man’s head between his two hands and twisting his neck an audible crack making me blanch and Sarge flinch, knowing he wasn’t alone anymore. His body raged heavily as he turned slowly to me. His stiff posture told me he wasn’t happy to see me.

“What are you doin’ here?” he roared angrily at me, reminding me of the man who was adamant about letting me go. His footsteps shook the room as he came towards me. I stepped back slowly, afraid of him in whatever state he was currently in. My back hit the wall, my breathing rapid as I tried to find the words to answer him with. He chased after me, his body stalling right in front of me as he threw his arms up, hands smacking into the wall behind me hard enough to leave dents. “Answer me!”

Tremors racked my body as I looked up at him. This wasn’t Sarge. This man was more like a wild animal than the man who protected me out of his so-called moral duty all these months. My hands flew to my chest, hands trembling with fear. Whatever I was going to do would just set him off more, I’m sure. But I didn’t know what could I say that wasn’t already obvious? I’m here for him. I’d always be here for him.

“You always chase after me.” It sounded like he was talking more to himself than me. His voice grew more grave with each word that was torn from his throat. “Even when you don’t know where I’m goin’, you still follow me like a lost fuckin’ puppy.”

He wasn’t wrong. I think stealing his car and wrecking his garage proved what lengths I’d go to chase him. I looked away from him as I confessed, “I’m scared you’re going to get hurt.”

Another slap in the drywall behind me, earning another flinch that he disregarded. “Why the fuck do you care so much?”

“Because I know what it’s like to be alone, and I don’t want you to feel like that.” My eyes were burning as the emotion swelled in my throat. I was trying to control the overwhelming feeling for his sake, but it was becoming a losing battle. I looked up at him, knowing I would lose the battle with my tears. “There’s no worse feeling than being in a room full of people and still feeling so utterly alone. I don’t want anyone to feel like that, especially you, Sarge.”

“So now you care?” Looks like we were getting all the pent-up emotions out of us tonight. It was brief the other day and swept to the side, but now it was going to be laid out on the table. Who knows if we’d both still be sitting at it when this was over. “Now that you finally accepted your sister doesn’t give a fuck about you, you suddenly care about someone else besides her?”

“I’ve always cared about you!” He could say a lot about what I felt, but he couldn’t tell me I didn’t care about him. Why didn’t he see that? “You told me you didn’t want me. You told me you didn’t care about me. You told me I was for fun, and that’s it. You even tried to send me away to stay with Mitchell and Nyla! You don’t fucking care for me. You said it yourself!”

“The way I feel about you is beyond caring, Joslyn.” Sarge’s words took the air right out of my lungs. His hand moved from the wall to wrap around my jaw, holding my face steady as I heard his truth. “You were supposed to benothing.”

“Your words told me I was,” that stung to say, but it was the truth. They replayed in my mind frequently, but I always told myself they were said out of a place of darkness. That he didn’t mean them. Only because his actions proved how much bullshit his words truly were. “But the way you treated me—the way you fucked me—told me about how you really feel about me.”

“Oh yeah?” He challenged, head cocking to the side. “And how do I feel about you, Joslyn?”

“You can’t let me go,” my tone was gentle. I was poking a beast with no cage, not knowing how the truth of my words was going to set him off. My hand wrapped around his wrist, not trying to pry his hand away from my face, but so hopefully, he felt as connected to me as I felt to him. “No matter how much you want to.”

“You’re right.” My eyes snapped open at his admittance, holding my breath for his next words. “You enjoy saving lost souls. I enjoy picking up the pieces they throw back at you; those pieces of yours should be mine.”

His hand slid to my right cheek, his calloused touch rough against the softness of my skin. My lips turned into a smile as I nuzzled my cheek into his palm, my hand still wrapped around his wrist. I looked into his darkness as I told him why I always put others before myself. “I try to save others because I’m not worth saving myself.”

His hand slipped from my cheek to the nape of my neck, pulling at the loose hair there. He took a step forward, forcing me to take one back as my body planted itself fully against the wall. With a slight tug of my hair to make me look up at him, his face came closer to mine. He opened his hand, his fingers brushing through my long hair before his head dropped fully, his forehead resting on the top of mine as he softly whispered, “If you looked at yourself the way I looked at you, maybe you’d realize you’re worth saving.”

I tilted my head up, his forehead sliding to mine. Desperately trying to hold onto this connection between us, “I don’t know how you look at me, Sarge. I can’t see your eyes. Will you show me?”

I was expecting a rejection. An angry outburst and a berating about how different we were, how much he didn’t want me. Any second, he would rush out of this room, leaving me alone here with the connection between us severed for good.

My heart dropped when he stepped back, my mind preparing for the worst. I wasn’t expecting his hands to grip the sides of his hoods, hesitating for a long moment before his hands slid down, taking the material that always hid his face with them, light reflecting on tanned skin as Sarge finally revealed a part of himself he refused anyone to see. I tried to brace my reaction, showing him how much it didn’t affect me. But it did.

The light brown waves I’d seen from the morning after I’d stayed at his cabin splayed everywhere. The left side of his face was covered in matching scars. There wasn’t an inch of smooth skin. Just a blotchy pink. It was connected together, going all the way down his arm to his missing fingers… but that wasn’t the most damning part. One look at the left side of his face and I knew why he hid himself from everyone.

His left eye was dull and unfocused. It didn’t match his right one. His right one was dark, resembling melted chocolate, while the pigment of his left one was pale. I never suspected him to be blind in one eye. The corner of his lips didn’t fair much better, the pink roughed with bumpy skin. His right eye, dark and mysterious as it was, was having an internal battle while he looked at me with trepidation. He was trusting me with a piece of himself—and I wouldn’t make him regret showing me.

I pushed off the wall, a movement he watched closely, as I approached him slowly like he was a stray animal. I lifted my hands enough for his eyes to catch it, indicating my intention. His working eye looked panicked as he shifted to my lifted hands, his throat bobbing as I asked, “May I?”

He debated, his eyes refusing to leave my hands. I wanted him to feel my touch. Who knew when the last time someone besides himself has touched his face?

He saw his scars as a curse. I saw them as guiding light.

A light that led him to me.

I watched his throat work as he fought against every insecurity he had before he nodded his head, unable to say anything. I lifted my hands, placing both on his cheeks, forcing his brown eye to look at my green ones. His other one remained in place, unfocused. I smiled at him, trying to pour the affection I felt for him in my touch. “It’s okay, Darin. I’m not going to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

I knew he had a love-hate relationship when I called him by his name. He loved the way it sounded off my lips, but he hated that I had that ammo.

He hated that I had even an ounce of control over him. He was used to calling the shots and doing whatever he wanted. But with me? He was more careful, more calculated.

I came first to him now when it was always just him.

His lips flattened, trying to resist the urge to pull back from my touch as my dainty hands felt the left side of my face that was scarred, pushing the curls of my hair out of the way. My hands brushed over his left template, the rough skin under my fingers. “How anyone could think you’re anything but beautiful, I’ll never understand.”

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