Page 45 of Sin

Home. I love the word on his lips. As if that bedroom we’ve shared for the past few days is ours alone. A haven, just for the two of us.

This deep connection between us may only be temporary—it may only last while I’m staying at his place—but I’ll take it. Somehow, I don’t feel weak accepting his help.

Maybe it’s okay to need other people, to lean on them when the burden becomes too heavy to bear alone. After crying in Ethan’s arms, I’m finally able to breathe again. It’s not just about surviving anymore. Maybe I can finally start living again.

I’m nestled in the corner of the couch as Ethan moves around the table at the edge of his room. The electric kettle clicks on, and its soft hum fills the silence between us.

“Who’d you steal the kettle from?”

His face is grim. Poor guy has been vibrating with tension since our walk home from campus.

“I bought it last night,” he says. “For your chamomile tea. The old one in our kitchen is grimy and nasty.”

This man is so thoughtful. How is it that just weeks ago I still thought he was a high-handed prick who judges me for my messiness?

Ethan’s movements are jerky as he steeps the teabag, which is at odds with his athletic grace. I can’t help but smile.

“Let me do that. You’re anxious, big guy. I guess I can’t blame you after my crying fit.”

He frowns as he hands me the teacup. “I wish you didn’t minimize what you’re going through. And don’t worry about me, damn it. I’ll be just fine. I’m worried about you.”

His words make my chest grow tight. When tears start welling behind my eyes, I take a deep breath through my nose.

No more crying. It’s time to confront reality head-on, to embrace the emotions I’ve long suppressed.

I take a sip of the tea, the taste somehow bland and bitter at the same time. “Ethan, I don’t even like chamomile tea. This isn’t bedtime, so I’m not sure why you made it for me.”

He sits down on the couch beside me, his expression growing grave. “I’m sorry. When I’m feeling this…wound up, I have to take action, and I guess I was trying to help you relax. I’m losing my mind right now. Are you ready to talk to me?

My chest squeezes tightly. I don’t want him to be so anxious. It’s difficult to see.

“Yes,” I say.

Time for the truth, no matter how little I want to face it.

I can do this. If crying was a relief, telling the whole ugly story might be too.

When I open my lips, a wave of cold, sick shame washes over me suddenly. Where does this feeling come from? It’s completely irrational. It wasn’t my fault that Mason raped me.

“About six months ago,” I say. “Mason and I were out at the bars. I was on the verge of breaking up with him. He was becoming sort of…pushy. He wanted things his way, especially when it came to…” I swallow. “Sex.”

Ethan shuts his eyes tightly, looking so anguished I want to reach out and touch him.

It’s going to be hard for him to hear the ugly details—as protective as he is of me—but I can’t think about that.

What happened to me was ugly, and I had to live through it. His discomfort in hearing it is nothing compared to what I endured. I deserve to speak my truth.

“Anyway.” I tug at a loose thread on the seam of my jeans. “I let him walk me home, even though I was over his shit. When we got to my sorority house, he wanted to come inside. He was insistent on it, acting like I owed it to him after he walked me home.”

Ethan grunts. When I lift my gaze to his face, his jaw is clenched. “What a fucking dirtbag.”

I smile sadly. Mason’s behavior must be incomprehensible to Ethan. In his eyes, walking a girl home at night is simply the right thing to do. But Mason’s sense of entitlement isn’t unusual. Over the years, I’ve met many men who believe they deserve access to me for the bare minimum of kindness.

Normally, I’d tell men like that to go to hell. But that night, I was so damn tired and drunk. I just didn’t think.

“Anyway, I let him come inside.” I shut my eyes when shame wells in my chest. “I even let him sleep in my bed. But I did make it clear that I didn’t want to be touched.”

“But he touched you anyway.” Ethan’s words are delivered through clenched teeth.

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