Page 43 of The Secrets of a Sin

“You…you took them in, didn’t you?” I ask on a stutter, and his eyes instantly gloss over.

“I couldn’t have them go anywhere else knowing what they’ve already been through.” He admits. “I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I had my wife, and she adored both of them.”

Adored. Past tense.

His tone shifts at the mention of his wife, but he quickly brushes off his sadness with a tight smile. “They stayed with us until Arsen decided it was time to move out. I told him they could stay with us as long as they liked, but you know Arsen. Stubborn and won’t listen to anyone but himself.” He shakes his head while laughing, and I slowly join in.

“Yah, I know all about that.” I roll my eyes.

“He’s hard-headed, but deep down, he has a good heart.” Kurt sighs as his eyes drift over my shoulder. “Despite the cruelness and the atrocities he was exposed to growing up, he managed to turn into one hell of a good man.”

A good man. I have yet to experience the good side of him, but deep down, I knew it was there. I saw it when he spoke with Kurt, and I’m almost positive he was the same way with Phoebe. Maybe one day I’d see it, but for now, we were stuck as enemies.

“And with you around, he will only get better.” He grins happily as a gust of air gets stuck in my lungs.

Yah, right.

If anything, I make him more irritated, not happy.

“Don’t look so surprised. I can see it in your eyes that you have feelings for him.” He raises a brow, and I instantly cough out a laugh.

Feelings? Maybe. But it would never go past infatuation.

“We’re just friends.” I chuckle, feeling my' cheeks heat. “And I’m most certain he feels the same.”

Kurt’s facial expression tells me he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said, but before he answers, Arsen comes up from behind me and brushes his shoulder against my back. “Have you been good?” He whispers down into my ear so that only I can hear him. I want to say no, but now isn’t the time or place to mess with him, so instead, I nod. “He’s ready to start.” He announces with a nod toward the area where Phoebe will be laid to rest.

We all walk to where a casket is hovering above a hole, and the Priest stands on the opposite side, holding his hands together. No chairs. No other family or friends. Just us. It feels almost sinful to have this small number of people at a funeral. Even in death, they needed to feel loved and cherished for the time they roamed the earth. They needed to know no one would forget them, and their legacy would live on.

But unfortunately, Phoebe only had us.

So, once all three of us come to a stop in front of her grave, I prepare myself for Arsen’s wrath, or worse, his anguish. Before the Priest even begins to speak, I feel the tips of Arsen’s fingers brush against mine, and I immediately freeze.

Was he doing what I think he is trying to do?

Suddenly, the tips of his fingers slide down the length of my palm in a slow drag. He seems hesitant in his movement as if he’s second-guessing himself, but then the second the Priest opens his mouth, Arsen seizes my hand in a constricting grip.

“Phoebe Grace Hale.” The priest spoke crisply as the words hit Arsen the hardest, and his hand tightens even more. My heart breaks almost instantly, and I settle myself even closer to Arsen’s side.

Enemies or not, he needs me.

And, just this once, I’ll give him a part of me that he hasn’t had yet.

My comfort.

13

CHARLOTTE

I was Arsen’s anchor. I held him up and kept him resilient through Phoebe’s funeral, and to my surprise, he let me. He held my hand with such pressure the entire time that I was afraid I was going to lose the circulation in my arm. As uncomfortable as it was, I embraced the pain, knowing Arsen was managing because of me.

He might not think that's why he brought me with him, but I knew. He needed someone else’s strength to hold him together. He needed me. He needed me more than he liked to admit, and I was okay with not having his acceptance. I didn't need his approval or the justification that underneath his thick skin, he liked me. I just knew, and that was good enough for me.

After Phoebe’s casket is lowered into the ground, I watch from the corner of my eye as Arsen is overcome with emotion. Whatever was clawing at him was detrimental. It caused his eyes to flood with torment as his body vibrated fiercely under my hand. As much as I wanted to distract him and pull him out of his misery, I couldn’t. I had to let him mourn.

He needed to face Phoebe’s death and let the grief and despair course through him. It was a part of the healing process and accepting that she was gone, despite how cruel it was.

But he wasn’t alone. I’d guide him through the ups and downs of today even if he decided to be a dick to me because he wanted to deflect. Whatever emotional route he settled on, I’d be right by his side the whole way.

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