Page 45 of Wicked Sins

Josiah watches his dad for a second before turning those dead eyes on me. “You honestly believe you’re gonna get away with this?”

My jaw hangs loose. “Liar!” I surge forward, shoving Josiah hard against his chest. “You tell them what happened!” My head swings around to face Wayne. “I was with him the whole morning.”

Josiah’s quiet.

Wayne’s just watching.

My mom starts shaking her head.

“I was with—” I point at Josiah, but a sob cuts me off with brutal efficiency.

“Next time you want attention, just die your hair pink or something,” Josiah says, tutting me with his eyes. “Someone could’ve gotten hurt.”

I let out a wordless scream and race out of the kitchen. I know I should stay, should get my story out and shit all over Josiah’s lies…but how can I, when I can barely breathe?

I slam my door closed. My fingers brush the metal around the keyhole, and then my arm falls at my side.

They took away my key.

I kick the door, wincing at the stab of pain that shoots through my foot, and throw myself on the bed.

A decade’s worth of tears flood out of me. Then I just lie there with a sore head and aching eyes until I can’t stay awake anymore.

Sometime later, someone comes into my room. I don’t bother turning around to see who it is.

They don’t stay.

Chapter Seventeen

Candy

Iknock on the pool house’s door.

“What?”

Not exactly an invitation. If I wasn’t so desperate to get to the bottom of this, I’d have left. But fuck it—I want answers.

Ideserveanswers.

As soon as my mother spots me, her face falls. “What are you doing out of your room?”

“I need to talk to you.”

She shrugs, pursing her lips as she turns her back on me. I stand in the doorway, my guts growing cold. But then I see she’s topping up her glass of wine, and it just happened to be standing behind her.

When she faces me again, it’s with a hard frown. “So talk,” she says, gesturing with her brimming wine glass.

“Can I have a glass?”

We’ve never had a drink together. I guess it says a lot for our relationship that at seventeen, I’ve had more to drink with my stepfather than my real mom.

“That would be illegal.”

I blink a few times and then shake my head. “Illegal,” I parrot.

“You’re under twenty-one.” Mom cocks her head. “Do I need to explain it to you? No wonder your grades are so shit.”

My heart’s in my throat. Even my fingertips have gone cold.

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