Page 72 of Wicked Sins

“Haley gave her Vicodin, and it interacted with her Lexapro.”

“Now, will you believe me when I tell you the kids have to know when we put them on shit? This is the third time this year that—”

“I’m not turning this place into a fucking psych ward! Things got out of control. It happens around these kids, you know that.”

I only recognize one of the voices. Brian sounds pissed off as all hell, but so does the woman he’s talking to.

Shoutingat.

“How do you expect me to do my job with my hands tied—”

Emma.

I jump to my feet. Brian jerks like he’s forgotten I was in the room, and the woman he was arguing with turns cold eyes to me. Before I can get a word out, she says, “We’re sending you home, Mr. Bale.” She taps a red-lacquered fingernail against a file lying on the desk in front of her. “I doubt you’ll be returning. Your sister, however—”

“Stepsister,” Brian corrects quietly.

What,nowhe’s on my side?

My lips curl up in disdain, but the blond on the other side of the table doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Then again, she looks like the kind of person who wouldn’t give a flying fuck about a kid like me. Guess there’ll always be fucked up kids like me around for her to make money off of.

“She’ll need to come straight back after the funeral.” The blond purses her lips and glances at Brian. “Well? Get him out of here.”

Brian stiffens a little at this, but he doesn’t waste any time coming over to me and grabbing my arm. We’re out the door and walking through an obnoxiously bright day before I get a word out.

“Does he know I’m coming home?”

Brian licks his lips, and then lets out a reluctant laugh that sounds anything from merry. “Of course, son. He wasn’t sure it was the right time for you two to come back, but I managed to convince him.”

Convince him? What, to let me attend my own sister’s motherfucking funeral?

I should have been foaming at the mouth, but instead, I feel like the walking dead. “What did you give me?”

“Just something to take the edge off,” Brian says. He glances at me, and then steers me in the direction of our lodge. “Go pack your things.”

“He didn’t want me to come home?”

Brian looks toward the sick room, and then back at me. He shrugs. “He sounded… I assume he’s in shock, like you.”

I’m not in shock. I’m straight up stoned from whatever the fuck tranquilizer he put me on. I head for the lodge, not bothering to say anything else to him.

What’s the fucking point? I got what I wanted—I’m going home. It’s nothowI wanted it. Jesus Christ, I would never have wished harm to come to little Emma…but I’m going home.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Candy

Dappled sunlight streams over my eyelids, making them flicker. The car’s window glass is cool against my forehead, the seat beneath me plush yet firm. But although my body is still receptive to touch, I could be cocooned in cotton wool.

Our driver has the radio on; background noise, ineffectual at drowning out the mantra flowing through my mind.

Go-ing to the cha-pel and we’re

Go-nna get ma-a-a-ried.

It’s not the song on the radio, but it’s the one that keeps playing through my head.

Joah tried to talk to me a few times, but I didn’t have the energy to figure out what he was trying to say. He’s given up, silent and unmoving on the seat beside me.

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