Page 35 of Wicked Sins

“Where are we?”

“A friend’s house,” he says.

He leans away as the water gurgles down the drain. The scent of the soap he washed me with hangs in the air—sickly and too sweet, like decaying flesh.

My stomach twists. I lurch forward into a sit, and barely manage to turn my head before I puke up violently. The hand behind my neck tightens, then Josiah draws away a clump of my wet hair.

“I really wish you’d stop doing that,” he says.

With a sigh, he turns on the faucet and adjusts the hot and cold lever. Warm water rushes over my legs, washing my puke down the drain. “At this rate, we’ll be here all night.”

Chapter Twelve

Josiah

I’ll never condone what happened to Candy at Sean’s house, but I do feel she had a hand in her own self-destruction.

I’d warned her, but she’d snuck out anyway.

Everyone knows not to accept drinks from strangers, but she did.

Honestly, I thought she’d have learned her lesson. Who would touch alcohol again after being spiked?

But the longer I know Candy, the more I start to understand things about her.

She’s stubborn as fuck and resilient too.

I almost want to admire her. She’s like one of those inflatable kid’s toys with weights in the bottom—doesn’t matter how hard you punch them; they just keep bouncing back.

The week after Sean’s party, Candy skipped dinner. I’d have been pissed at that—Dad never lets us skip supper unless we’re running a brain-melting fever or something—but I was too busy reveling in the fact that my life was back to normal as easily and quickly as if someone had flipped a fucking switch.

Dad and I talked sports. Emma got through her whole plate of food without anyone trying to interfere. And it was easy to forget Diana was evenatthe table.

That was when I realized how much Candy had affected my life. I never thought it had been entirely my imagination, but I’d considered that I’d possibly been overreacting.

But now?

It’s so obvious, it pains me to think that I’d been trying to convince myself otherwise.

Candy is the thorn to my lion’s paw. Events at Sean’s party had dislodged her, and now she’s no longer festering inside me.

It won’t last.

She’d have to eat with us again.

Naive as I was, I’d thought it would be different when that happened.

It wasn’t.

* * *

“More wine?”

I look up at the sound of Dad’s voice, and send him a scowl he pretends not to see. “I think she’s had enough,” I mutter.

But for her puppy-love smile crystallizing, Candy otherwise ignores me. “Oh please,” she says through her teeth. “That would be wonderful.”

I gag theatrically, and Emma laughs.

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