Page 85 of Sin

“We’ll be here when you’re ready.” She patted my cheek. “Just one step at a time, yes?”

I watched her head back inside, feeling both relieved and restless after talking with her.

My eyes returned to the cookie.

“She’s not wrong you know.”

I jumped a near foot in the air, cursing as I turned to search for London. I didn’t see him, so after pocketing the cookie, I descended the porch steps and edged around the corner of the house where I thought his voice had come from. Around the side of the house, London leaned against the paneling, lighting a cigarette.

“Mierda.” My hand covered my chest as I scowled at the man of my dreams. “Were you eavesdropping the whole time?”

He shrugged. “I was here first.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

Taking a drag of his cigarette, he eyed me. “Why would I?”

“Why…” I blinked at him. “Never mind. What are you doing?”

He blew out some smoke. “I needed a minute alone.”

Ah, got it. “Oh, sorry. I can go if you—”

Before I’d even finished speaking, London grabbed me around my wrist and yanked me to him. “I don’t mind your company. Stay with me?”

Even though I knew he meant just while he finished his cigarette, my brain immediately tried to twist it to mean forever. “Sure,” I said, feigning a casualness I didn’t actually feel with his body pressed against mine like this. I was weak when it came to London, and being this close made me want things I had no business wanting.

When I tried to step aside to give him some space, he held on tighter, keeping me flush against his front. “Don’t go.”

“I was just going to move to stand at your side.”

“Don’t go,” he said again, wrapping his free hand around my waist and forcing a delicious shiver to run up my spine when his fingers slipped just below the hem of my shirt to rest against my lower back.

I barely dared to breathe, worried I’d say or do the wrong thing to break this moment between us. “I won’t.”

Carefully, I let my cheek press against his chest. His heart galloped beneath my ear, and the fingers on my back flexed slightly, dipping lower.

He smelled of leather and nicotine tonight, and I breathed him like I could acquire some of his calm secondhand.

“When did you start smoking?” I asked, breaking the silence. I’d caught a whiff of nicotine a few times since being back around him, but this was the first time I’d actually seen him smoking.

Snuffing out his cigarette in a cup of water on the ground that I hadn’t noticed before, London said, “The day you went to prison.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t smoke every day,” he said, fingers teasing the bottom of my shirt. “Just on the days where it all feels…”

“Like too much?” I guessed, finishing his thought for him.

“Yes.” He pulled me tighter against him for a moment. “Did you have a good talk with my mom?”

I huffed. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

He pinched my side, making me yelp. “Shut up. I’m trying to be serious here. I didn’t… I don’t think I ever stopped to think about what you lost that day.”

I pulled back to stare at him. “I didn’t lose my dad that day, London. I lost him the day my mother died. I think part of him died right alongside her.” I shook my head, letting my hands drop and putting a little space between us. “It hurt, yes. But the pain wasn’t fresh.”

London’s hand caught mine, halting me from retreating and further. “I’m sorry, Sin.”

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