Page 74 of Wicked Sins

I drop my eyes and rub my fingers over my lids. It doesn’t help with the stinging, but it gives me a few seconds to gather myself as the driver heads up our driveway.

When I look up, my muscles tense. Mom and Mr. Bale are standing on the side of the driveway. Mom’s wearing faded jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled into a ponytail. No makeup. No jewelry.

Mr. Bale’s wearing dark jeans, a casual jacket zipped up in front as if he’s getting cold.

Both have mouths set in lines. Both look like they haven’t been getting much sleep.

Then, finally, something happens. It’s as if a door deep inside me unlocks, and everything I’ve been keeping bottled up behind it spills out.

I let out a choking sob, kick open the door, and half fall, half scramble out of the car.

My arms are wide, but they’re only held open for one person.

Wayne scoops me up, holding me close as he lifts me from the ground. A moment later, another warm body presses against me. Mom’s crying, her hands shaking as she grips my shoulders.

I almost push her away from me, but I know that would make Mr. Bale angry.

“It’s okay,” he says, stroking my hair. “You’re home now, baby girl.”

Shoes crunch over gravel, and then go still. “I want to see her,” Joah says.

Wayne squeezes me tighter, but my Mom steps away with a sniff and starts rummaging in her pocket as if she’s looking for a tissue.

“She’s at the morgue,” Wayne says.

“Then that’s where I’ll be.”

One last stroke, then Wayne gently moves me aside. He strides up to Josiah, and they stand looking at each other for a few seconds.

“If you want to go, fine, but let me take you,” Wayne says.

Something flickers across Joah’s face, but I can’t tell what it is because it disappears a second later. “I can drive myself.”

Wayne steps forward. “You’re not the only one hurting, Josiah.”

Hot tears well up in my eyes. I try to blink them away, but that just sends them splashing down my cheeks. How can he be so calm—his face a stone carving? My mom comes up to me and slides her arms around my waist, giving me a squeeze.

“What happened?” I ask her quietly, making sure my voice won’t carry to Joah and his father.

“They didn’t tell you?”

“No. Just that she’d drowned. Did it happen here?”

Mom nods, her face scrunching up as she dabs a wadded-up tissue to her nose. “She went in without us knowing.” She sniffs. “If we’d known…”

Those words flood my brain, but they’re not attached to emotions.

The guys are talking, but too low for me to make out what they’re saying. When Mom turns me to face the house, I go willingly. “Want some tea?” she asks.

I’d rather have a bottle of vodka to myself, but I nod to her anyway. I guess, for now, tea will have to do.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Josiah

The fact that it’s a beautiful fall day—bright and crisp with the world practically oozing vitality—pisses me off. That I’m standing beside a massive six-foot-deep hole that’s obscenely large in comparison to the small coffin suspended above it; that’s not improving my mood either.

Diana keeps sobbing into a damp handkerchief. Dad stands beside her, one arm dangling over her shoulder, the other over Candy’s.

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