Page 42 of A Sinner's Saint

“What?” Santo asks. He’s the only one close enough to hear me.

“In the restaurant, there were a lot of people…” I explain. “A lot of witnesses.”

“It’s okay. No one is stupid enough to say anything,” Santo tells me.

“Take her the fuck home. Get her out of here.” Vin throws an arm in my direction. He’s pacing up and down the alleyway while tugging on the ends of his hair.

“Let’s go. You being here right now isn’t helping him,” Santo whispers.

“I’m not leaving him.” I readjust my arms, crossing them tighter over my chest. I take a step towards Vin.

Marcel steps in front of me. “He wants you to leave. Santo will take you home. I’ve got this.”

“I… Vin? Don’t make me leave you right now,” I plead with him.

“You should never have been with me, Cammi,” Vin says, his eyes devoid of emotion before he turns his back to me.

I might not have been the one he stabbed, but I sure as hell feel like I have a huge gaping wound in my chest right now. I can also feel the tears building. I will not cry. This isn’t about me. I won’t put that added pressure on him.

I pivot on my shoe to look up at Santo. “Can you take me home? Please?”

“Let’s go.” He nods, and without looking back, I follow him over to the blacked-out SUV idling in the distance.

Santo didn’t take me home, though. He brought me to the De Bellis estate. Told me to get cleaned up, explaining he’d drop me off after. Which is why I’m now standing in Vin’s bedroom. Alone. I take a deep breath, make my way into his attached bathroom, reach a hand into the stall, and turn on the shower.

It’s strange being in here without him.

I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to be the one he sought out, the one he took comfort in. When he looked at me like he was disgusted by me, my heart shuttered. I’ve done my best to keep the tears at bay. Until now.

Stripping off my ruined dress, I slide my panties down my legs and step into the shower. Immediately falling to the tiled floor as I let everything pour out. My own heartbreak. The ache I feel for Vin. The frustration that I can’t get rid of his nightmares for him. The anger I have towards his father for doing what hedid, and the men who did those horrible things to him. I want to be able to wave a magic wand and make it all go away. Seeing him hurtinghurtsme. I can’t pretend to understand or feel even a tenth of his pain, his trauma. But I physically ache when I see him so broken.

I bring my knees up and rest my forehead on them. The hot water washes over me while the red stains the water before disappearing down the drain. I need someone to tell me how to help him. I can’t figure it out on my own. I’m in over my head. I can admit that. I also can’t ask anyone. If I did, I’d be betraying him and that’s something I will never do.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting in this shower. But, eventually, I manage to pull myself together. I stand and wash myself off with Vin’s soap. His scent surrounds me, and a fresh set of tears falls. I swipe at my face before turning off the faucet and grabbing a towel. Drying off quickly then wrapping the plush material around my body.

I probably shouldn’t, but I help myself to Vin’s wardrobe. I pull one of his hoodies over my head. It reaches my knees. It’s basically a dress. And when I walk out again, something shiny on his dresser table catches my eye. The little tin that he carries around with him. I’ve never smoked a day in my life, but right now seems like a good time to give it a go. It works for Vin, helps him numb the pain. Which is something I need. I need to not feel.

So I open the tin and take out a joint. I search for a light but there isn’t one. I move over to the bedside drawer. Open it and find a few lighters, snagging one before I walk out onto the balcony and shut the door behind me.

Sitting on the small outdoor sofa, I put the joint in my mouth and light it up, inhaling as much of the smoke as I can. My chest burns and I cough up a lung while exhaling. But I am not deterred as I puff on it again. A little slower this time. I stillcough but nowhere near as much. By the time I get near the end of the joint, I’m starting to feel lighter. And I finally understand the appeal.

The door to the balcony opens, and I look up to see a very pissed-off Vin. He appears freshly showered.How long has he been here?

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps, reaching out to snatch the joint out of my hand.

Chapter Nineteen

Iwasn’t expecting Cammi to be here. Why the fuck my brother brought her back to our place, I have no idea. He should have taken her home. To her house. I certainly wasn’t expecting to find her out on my balcony smoking fucking weed.

I rip the joint out of her hand and put it out in the ashtray I have on the table. Although she’s already smoked just about the whole thing by the looks of it.

“I was enjoying that,” Cammi says, blinking up at me. Her eyes are fucking bloodshot. And I can’t tell if it’s because she’s stoned or because she’s been crying…

“Yeah, not anymore. Get up. I’m taking you home,” I tell her.

“You’re taking me home?” she questions and then laughs. “I am home, Vin. Home is wherever you are. And you’re here. So really, you don’t need to take me anywhere.”

“Cammi, I can’t do this to you. I won’t do this to you. Let me take you home.” I’m practically pleading with her. I need to get her as far away from me as possible. I knew I’d eventually take her down with me. And now that I have, the only way I can fix this is to let her go.

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