Page 3 of Never Die for a Sinner
Absolutely not.
“I’m good.”
She huffs, and I can practically feel her roll her eyes. Too bad. Right now, I’m focused on the slight tremor in my hands and the need burning in my chest.
Why can’t she just walk the fuck away?
“Dad would have wanted you there.”
Ice slips through my veins. I’m this fucking close to losing my shit, and she just won’t let it go.
“Forgive me, but I don’t give a fuck what Dad would have wanted.”
“Levi—”
“I said, no, Bella. Fuck off.” I’m not usually this harsh with her, but she needs to understand that not all of us had the loving, gentle version of our father. She was his favorite, and he doted on her while the boys got the beatings and variousotherpunishments, he found fitting.
She doesn’t know the man he was because he never let her see that side of him. Even when the veil did slip and she got a taste of just how much our father was capable of, she refused to see it.
Bella’s quiet, and I can hear the tears in her voice when she speaks. I just can’t find it in myself to care, right now.
“You don’t have to be an asshole.”
I don’t respond. I came out here to be alone. It’s not my fault she can’t take a fucking hint.
“Fine,” she says eventually. “But just know, you’re driving the wedge between us. Not me.”
And with that, she storms off back inside to play make-believe with all the rest of our family, who decided to spontaneously forget who William Crossactuallywas.
Alone again, I pull the flask out of my suit jacket and toss it back, drinking what’s left. A burn slides through me. I barely notice it, numb to the effects, but it brings about a calm I’d been searching for the entire day.
Fuck Bella. She doesn’t get to dictate how I feel.
If she wants to make a martyr out of the man who committed unspeakable acts against our family, then she’s as stupid as he is.
Fishing the pack of cigarettes from my pocket, I stick one between my teeth and light it up. I quit smoking months ago, and what I actually mean by that is I’ve lied and told everyone else I have, so they leave me the fuck alone about it.
I blow out a cloud of smoke and watch it hang in the cool Autumn air. The sun is setting over the horizon, paintingeverything in shades of pink and orange. Sunset is my favorite time of day, usually because it means night will fall and there won’t be a million fucking people wanting something from me.
Christian with his shit with Mila. Bella about Dad or the lodge. My Aunt Paulina about whatever the hell she can manage to come up with.
Thatotherproblem . . .
I’ve spent most of my life cleaning up other people’s messes. It’s what I’m good at. At night, I’m free.
I’m well and truly alone without a single fuck to give.
Except for when I catch a whiff of citrus in the air.
It’s not five minutes after Bella goes inside that the door opens again. My spine stiffens when I hear the footsteps behind me. I don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. The scent of her perfume is enough.
Silence hangs in the air, and like the meek little ghost she is, she searches for something to say. I could almost chuckle, knowing if I were to turn around, I’d find her timid, her cheeks flushed a sweet shade of pink, and the prettiest goddamned eyes I’ve ever seen on the ground, instead of on me.
It’s almost too tempting. I know a trap when I see one.
“What do you want, Ava?”
I’m harsher with her than I should be. She’s gentle and soft to my rough edges. She wasn’t built for this world like I was. This is new to her, but I’m not her teacher, and I’m not her friend. I’m not anyone to her but someone whose name is on the house she works and lives in.
