Page 79 of Wicked Sins

I snort quietly to myself. “What’s it matter to you?”

“You forget.” His voice moves closer. “Iget punished for every bad thingyoudo.”

He grabs my wrist so hard I gasp, and then slides the wine glass out of my hand.

“I can’t have one fucking glass of wine?” I glare up at him, but he’s not budging a hair.

“You could, but we both know it wouldn’t stop there. And the last thing I need today is having to explain why you’ve passed out in the pool house next to an empty bottle of wine.”

“You’re not my father,” I say through my teeth. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

“Neither is Wayne.” Josiah’s eyes are the color of tar. “But that’s never stopped you.”

I take a step back from him, but even that doesn’t dislodge the grip on my wrist. I ignore his cruelly barbed comment and toss my hair like he’s annoying me instead of making me feel like a piece of shit. “You can’t tell me you don’t need something to take the edge off. You’ve had a shittier day than me.”

Josiah watches me for a second as if internalizing my words, and then he slowly releases my hand. The skin throbs where his fingers were digging into my flesh. I wrap my other hand around it. I should be massaging, making that feeling go away…but I don’t want to. It’s refreshing, this discomfort I didn’t bring on myself. Like I’m actually a part of this world after all, and not just watching it unfold from inside a bubble.

If someone as cold-hearted as Josiah can make me feel something…then maybe there’s hope after all.

He shakes his head, and that all too familiar look of contempt slides onto his face. Then he’s heading for the door, abandoning me to my fate.

“You could have one too,” I call out.

He pauses, glances at me over his shoulder. Has he grown during the time we’ve been at Happy Mountain, or is it just the way the sun’s beaming through the pool house’s glass doors that makes him look so intimidating today?

Then again, hasn’t he always filled the room wherever he went? I can’t seem to think of a time when I wasn’t acutely aware of his presence, even if he was silent and not paying me attention.

It goes to show how fucked up my life has become that I’d rather have a drink with Josiah Bale than get pissed on my own.

“You want to have a drink, with me?” That tiny pause tells a whole damn story.

“Sure. Why not?”

I turn away and start pouring him a glass of wine. He stands there until the glass is full, and only moves closer when I turn to hand it to him.

“I don’t drink that shit anymore,” he says, taking the glass from me. He moves around the mahogany bar counter and pours the wine into the sink beside the double-door fridge.

“What a waste.”

“It’s a waste getting drunk on cheap wine,” he says.

I roll my eyes and let out a lingering sigh. Then I tip my glass against my lips, intent on downing the whole thing.

Joah takes it from me before a drop touches my mouth. Then it sloshes down the sink too.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“As sin,” he says woodenly. Then he turns and starts hunting through the liquor cabinet. “If you’re going to drink, might as well do it properly.”

I press my eyelids closed, my eyeballs rolling against my fingertips. “You just have to be in charge twenty-four-seven, don’t you?” When I look up, tiny flashes of bright lights scatter. “Do you at least get holiday’s off?”

When he faces me again, there’s the faintest suggestion of a smile on his mouth. Then again, it could just be the light in the room.

I glance away, scanning the pool area.

It’s become gloomy out there, as if a cloud is passing over the sun. Something cool bumps against the back of my hand. I peer down at the amber liquid, and slowly lift that tumbler to my nose.

Whiskey. It’s what Josiah’s dad drinks.

---