Page 86 of Sinners Retreat

Where the hell is Cat?

Then I hear a sound, like metal scraping against glassware. I freeze and close my eyes, listening as the clinking commences again. It sounds like it’s coming from the bathroom.

I step toward the door, but there’s no little rectangle of light beneath it. The lights are off in there. Figuring I imagined things, I take a step back, but the sound freezes me in place again.

Scrape . . . scrape.

Placing my fingertips against the door, I ease it open. “Cat?” I whisper.

“In here,” she says from the shadows. “It’s the only place where the light doesn’t reach.”

“Is there a reason why we’re skulking outside of the Pridelands, Mufasa?”

That earns a small chuckle, followed by the most pitiful groan I’ve ever heard. “Please don’t make me laugh. My head is killing me. I think Bennett drugged me.”

“Oh, I know he did. He told us so.” I feel around in the dark until I find the stack of washrags stacked beside the sink. I run one under the cold tap and move toward her voice. “Are you in the bathtub?”

“Yeah. The cold porcelain feels good.” She grunts, followed by some squeaking sounds, and then she’s beside me. “Let’s go into the living room.”

She follows me out of the bathroom, and as the sunlight finds her face, I’m shocked by how pretty she is when she’s at her worst. At my worst, I look like a bridge troll who played chicken on the I-90. Meanwhile, she looks like she’s ready to pose for a two-page spread in Cosmo about the benefits of a natural glow.

I drape the cool cloth over her neck. In her hand, she holds a glass bowl and a metal spoon. That explains the sound I kept hearing.

“Were you feeling a little peckish in the dark?” I ask.

She scoops something from the bowl and shovels it into her mouth. “Yeah, I guess I was hungry after missing lunch. Thanks for making this for me.”

My eyebrows pull together. “I’ve been with Ezra all day. I didn’t make that.”

“Hmm?” She chews what’s in her mouth and swallows. “Really? Then who did?”

I peer into the bowl and discover a fresh fruit salad, complete with miniature orange slices, shreds of strawberry, and a heaping helping of pineapple.

Cat and I make the connection at the same time, and I catch the bowl as she drops it and races for the sink.

“No, no, no!” she screams. “Not the pineapple, Kindra. Notthefucking pineapple!”

“Surely it’s not the same one. I mean, you saw the way he was fucking that thing. I don’t think there would have been this many solid pieces left.”

She spits into the sink, then dips her mouth beneath the running faucet. My emotions vacillate between horror and humor as I watch her frantic motions, and I come to one conclusion. This is horrifyingly humorous.

“He doesn’t know how to do something nice,” she says as she gulps air before going back under the faucet for another rinse. “He fed me his fucking lover, Kindra!”

I hold the bowl to my nose and dare to take a sniff. It just smells sweet, like fruit. “I think you’re safe. I don’t detect any undertones of salt or ball sweat.”

“The pineapple probably hides it.” She snatches the washcloth from her neck and dabs it on her forehead. “I don’t want any part of that man inside me in any way. Even the thought of ingesting a single skin cell from his body makes me sick.”

I dump the remaining fruit—of which there is sadly little—into the wicker trash can, then set the bowl on the counter. Cat wipes her mouth on the back of her arm and retreats to the couch to pout. She pulls the blanket over her shoulders so that only her head sticks out.

Sitting beside her, I place my hand on what I hope is her knee. “I’m sorry I can’t relate. I’m on the other end of the emotional spectrum. Instead of hating Ezra, I’m falling in love with him.”

I brace myself for a squeal of joy and a hug that doesn’t come. Maybe she’s still in shock after eating Bennett’s fruit salad. I turn to look at her, but I can’t read her face. She’s lost in thought, with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth and a faraway look in her eyes.

“Did you hear me?” I ask.

Cat sighs and lets the blanket drop. “I heard you, but did you ever think that maybe things are moving a little fast with Ezra? I mean, what do you even know about him? You two have been spending a lot of time together, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Though her voice is gentle and her questions are valid, what she says sinks into a sore spot. Isn’t she supposed to be happy for me? Why this sudden change of demeanor?

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