Page 15 of Breaking the Sinner

His cheek twitched with a suppressed smile. Those emerald eyes shouldn’t have this much of an effect on him. At this point in life, he’d done it all and seen even more. She wasn’t anything special. None of these people were. She was an awkward, sheltered girl trapped in the nineties.

Red looked at him a little too long and ran straight into the reception desk. She doubled over, clutching at her knee. Her exclamation was muted behind the glass enclosed workout room.

A laugh escaped him. A couple curious glances skated his way.

He straightened his back and wiped down the bench press.

So maybe she was a little special. Just enough to catch his attention—like a fish: hook, line, and virgin.

Chapter 6

Two days managed to go by without an embarrassing incident that rendered her flame red and in mourning. At this point, she had a whole different list going of all the ways she’d managed to embarrass herself in front of Cobra. Was this some sort of spiritual exam? The final test of God?

It would make sense—maybe her fatherwasright. Coming to LA was a bad choice, so God would punish her until embarrassment drove her back home on her knees. Dating boys was evil, and thinking about sixty-nine-ing would cause her to run headfirst into a very visible reception desk, while her crush absorbed every last detail of the crash.

But even her father’s strict rule couldn’t abolish masturbation from her life. Gen rubbed herself to climax every night, more ritual than habit, while dark images of Cobra’s face danced behind her lids. Masturbation was no stranger to her. It was the only way she’d survived young adulthood.

Now, she was experiencing how much more intense the climax could be with a bona fide hottie filling her mind. Before, it had always been some weird, earthly rendition of Jesus. After all, that’s what every woman of child-bearing age was supposed to want. The perfect, sinless man who could perform miracles—like knock Gen up without the stain of sexual intercourse—and intuit her every thought.

But it was time to shuck the Jesus fantasy. It was time to stain her purity. And Cobra seemed a little devilish.

Was this obsession? Cobra filled her thoughts constantly. And not only at work, when she caught a soul-scorching glance of him. He followed her home; into the shower; into bed.

It settled strangely, knowing that he’d seen the inside of her frumpy bedroom and she couldn’t even remember it. But somehow, she couldfeelthe fact that he’d been there. As if he’d permanently wended the magnetic energy of the room.

Gen pushed into her apartment with a sigh. Her leg ached, after being on her feet all day. The car crash that had nearly taken her life left her with one never-ending reminder: a deficit on her left side that became aggravated with too much upright time. Or, as she’d recently found out, too much alcohol.

“Hey, you.” Her roommate, Sophie, cast her a quick smile as she flitted from the hallway into the kitchen. With a black bob and studded shorts, she looked alternative but secretly was another fundamentalist escapee whose morals were formed rigid early on. Sophie and Gen had known each other in their previous lives, but Sophie escaped at age seventeen—and never turned back. It had taken the worst night of Gen’s life to find the gall to break free. But, unlike Sophie, Gen wanted a dip in the external waters. Just so she could know and return wiser. More convicted.

“Hey.” Gen dropped her bookbag on the couch and winced as she lowered herself onto the cushions. The weak leg needed a rest, but so did the strong leg. A sigh escaped her as she propped her left leg up on the back of the couch.

“Too much walking today?”

“Yep. I thought working in a gym would help, but apparently it’s aggravating it more.” Gen folded her hands over the exposed sliver of belly where her shirt rode up.

“Take this weekend to rest,” Sophie said, bowls clinking as she unloaded the dishwasher. “And if you want, you can come to the Unitarian meet-up on Sunday.”

Gen’s stomach wrenched. Sophie had started going to a new church, one that claimed it wasn’t religious. But even the thought of a non-religious church made her queasy. “I don’t know. I need more time.”

Like maybe this entire year “off” from religion.

Sophie nodded, sending her a smile that contained all the understanding in the world. “I thought it might be nice for you to meet some more people around here. People that don’t, you know, judge.”

“Yeah. All in God’s time. I mean, good time.” She draped her arm over her eyes. Some of the tics might never go away. “Why does this feel like detoxing?”

“Because it is.” Sophie’s steps came nearer. The loveseat creaked as she sat on it. “I promise, it gets easier. You’ve only been out for a month.”

“Six months, if you count my recovery time in the hospital,” Gen said.

“But you went back home once you got out of the hospital,” Sophie reminded her. “The crash happened a year ago. What you’re doing is all new.”

Gen sighed into her bicep, the tang of skin and breath mingling together. A year ago, the drunk driver had hit her car. A year ago, she’d woken up mangled and scared. A year ago, her cousin’s lifeless body lay stretched out in the passenger seat, elbows and neck at terrifying angles. “Yeah. You’re right.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, broken by the low hum of traffic from outside. Gen shut her eyes, welcoming the familiar guilt and despondency that usually accompanied thoughts about her cousin Bethany. The somber prayer she always sent up in Bethany’s honor.

This list, and her own escape from the community, was a type of living prayer. If Bethany had been called to Heaven, maybe Gen was being called to the real world. A tit for tat. But her escape had only been made possible by the insurance money paid out by the guy who crashed into her. Bethany’s family had gotten some, too. It didn’t exactly right the scales, but it at least nudged them. Gen’s father had urged her to donate the money to the church, as a form of repentance.

To the church? Over Gen’s dead body. This money was earmarked forlife.

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