Page 41 of Breaking the Sinner

“Yeah, right.” He swallowed a sick knot, feeling the dread pool in his belly. This was why he never answered her calls. The physical effects of talking to her took him days to recover from. She should have just died the day the police found his stepdad. She should have killed herself, too.

“Wondered how you were doin’,” she said with a sigh. Then a calculated pause. “And I was wondering when you might be coming out to see me.”

He’d visited her once. After being released from the foster system at age eighteen, part of him thought that maybe he and his mom could resolve things. Like murdering his stepdad could ever be resolved.

That was seven years ago, and he hadn’t looked back.

“I’m a little busy,” he said.

“Whatcha doing?” Her tone was harsh.

“Workin’.”

“Oh yeah? Where at?”

He stared at the white tiles of the floor, weighing his options. “A gym.”

She scoffed. “Doin’ what? Feelin’ up those overblown steroid chumps?”

His chest tightened. “I gotta go.”

“Brendan,” she said, more urgency in her voice. “Listen, I got this idea. It’ll make me some money while I’m in here, but I need your help. I—”

Cobra yanked the phone away from his ear, swiping the call off before he could hear more. He stared at the ground for a few bloated moments, the world around him dull and distant. Raucous laughter from down the hall pulled him out of his thoughts.

She only ever called when she wanted something. Last time, she wanted his social security number for a loan to start a pen pal–prostitution service. Another time, she needed three hundred dollars for her boyfriend. For her fucking boyfriend. When was he going to learn? He swiped through his recent calls list and blocked the number she’d called from.

He pushed into the employee lounge, heart racing as he tried to not think about the call. What she might have wanted. Whynow?

Gen lingered near the tiny platters of toppings at the end of the buffet line. She smiled over at him, but it fell slightly. “Hey. Why are you scowling?”

“Am I?” He snagged a paper plate, staring at the different bread options in front of him. Wheat, white, something too seedy, another one too brown. Who even cared? He snatched up a white roll.

“Are you upset?” She was at his side then, searching out his gaze. He couldn’t look at her. Not now.

“No, Gen. I’m fine.”

But even he could hear the tightness in his voice. The quiet signals of how not-fine he really was.

Silence filled the employee lounge. He piled some deli meat on his sub. Lettuce. Tomato. He didn’t even know what he was making.

“Cobra.” Gen was at his side again, reaching for his plate. “You just dumped the cheese everywhere.”

He blinked. Grated cheese was all over his plate, his wrists, piled up on his sandwich. Gen took his plate from him, set it aside. Then she had both of his hands in hers. Her mossy green eyes brimmed with concern.

“What’s going on?”

Everything inside him screamed. Railed.Get the fuck out of here.He turned away, her confusion stuck to him like goop.

“I’m not really hungry,” he said.

“Cobra.” Her voice came out pinched. “Did something happen? You’re acting so strangely.”

He shook his head, already pushing out the door. He needed some fresh air; he needed to punch the shit out of something; he needed to smoke himself to numbness.

Cobra jogged out through the front doors before he could think better of it. Inside his car. Starting the engine.

It wasn’t until he was two blocks from his apartment that the cloud broke. He checked his phone. His break ended in three minutes, and he couldn’t get back to the gym within a half hour even if he tried.

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