Page 96 of Breaking the Sinner

“Our understanding is irrelevant. It’s God’s understanding that decides all,” Mr. Gingham declared. “After what happened with Bethany, you strayed off course. Moving to the sin-filled city was evidence enough. But now you’ve brought filth back with you. Stains. Pure muck that you are utilizing to test our devotion and our purity.”

Cobra blinked, the jab not even registering until Gen leaned forward, slamming the butt of her knife against the table with athud.

“Cobra is not filth. He is purer than any one of you sitting here at this table. If you could see past the blinders you’re wearing, past the things that you think are sinful but really mean nothing, you could see that this man more than any is worthy of my love.”

Hope covered her face with her hands, crying softly. Mary watched with a slack jaw, her gaze bouncing between Gen and Cobra and her father. This was worse than a tornado. This was a fucking hurricane. And everything was getting uprooted and drenched.

“You made a commitment to the Lord when you were twelve,” Mr. Gingham said, folding up his napkin. Redness crept up his neck, threatening to overtake his face. “One that you will honor whether you like it or not.”

Cobra leaned back, studying Gen for the next move. The old man made it clear. He wanted them out. And Cobra couldn’t wait to oblige. His skin itched at the thought of booking it to his car, starting the engine, and peeling out of the driveway so fast he left indents in the gravel drive.

This whole trip was a nightmare. And whatever hesitation, depression, and anxieties he’d been beating back the whole time came flooding back to him. Under the microscope of the meal and Gen’s family, he could barely keep from leaving right the fuck now.

Cobra sniffed, balling up his napkin. Time to thank them for an excellent few bites of mac and cheese and get the fuck out of here.

“Furthermore, I won’t tolerate such behavior in my house,” Mr. Gingham said. “This unclean, sinful behavior.”

Thoughts crashed together, prompting the question before he could think better of it. “What did she do? I don’t get it. You have the most beautiful, most perfect daughter on the face of the fucking planet.”

Mr. Gingham paled. “Language. Ask for forgiveness right now.”

Cobra arched a brow. “Ask for what now?”

Gen’s father set aside his napkin, pushing out from the table. Cobra’s hackles rose, an automatic response.

“You want to know what Prudence has done. As a sinful creature myself, it is plain to see where she has failed. Her firstmost duty is to exalt the divine nature of Christ our Lord. Certain things can be understood or overlooked. But some—like bringing a nonbeliever with tattooed skin and a foul, disgusting mouth and a heinous blackened eye from what one can only assume are violent fights in the name of the devil himself? We are not open to this type of debauchery. This type ofcontamination. You have brought your black web of sin into my home. Think of your sisters.”

Cobra slapped his napkin down on the table, pushing his chair back. “Gen? I think that’s my cue.”

“Didn’t your parents teach you any God-fearing manners?” Mr. Gingham went on, sounding every inch a mournful pastor. “I don’t understand how some people can be so lost. So ill-advised.”

“I didn’t exactly have great parents,” Cobra said, the irritation boiling over. He stood, meeting Mr. Gingham’s beady stare. The truth bubbled up inside him, suddenly desperate to escape. To make itself known. This was the pyre to burn himself on. To make all of his shortcomings final. Inescapable. “My dad abandoned me when I was a baby, and my mom is in prison for life for murdering my stepdad.” The words whooshed out of him, leaving something gaping and aching behind. He swallowed. “So, I don’t know, maybe you can forgive me for swearing once?”

Silence thudded over the table. Sarcasm didn’t fit into this household. He should have known. Gen’s sisters’ gazes ping-ponged between their parents and Cobra. The beating of his heart sent two words thrumming through him:Get. Out. Get. Out.

Gen’s wild eyes found his, and her chair scraped as she pushed out from the table. He turned on his heels and stormed out of the dining room. Gen trailed close behind, her presence burning at his composure.

It was all on the table now. And each second that dragged by, claws into flesh, made him want to scream.

Gen didn’t say a word, wringing her hands while Cobra paced in front of the couch like a maniac.

“Are you gonna say anything?” Cobra finally spat, once the silence had utterly drowned him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Those gemstone eyes wide…and scared. Yeah, time to pack up and go. “He can be so brutal.”

“Why did you tell them I’m your boyfriend?” he demanded, throwing his hands out to his side. “You’re poking the Jesus beast. Your old man wants me gone. So let’s go.”

“Cobra,” she pleaded, “listen to me. They will see you for your goodness. I promise. You’re so new to them, everything about you is—”

“Did you not hear what I said in there?” His heart pounded so loudly he swore she’d be able to hear it.

She faltered. “Yes. But I…” Words failed her, but not for long. Not his Gen. “I don’t care. I mean, I care. I can’t imagine what your childhood must have been like. But—”

“But nothing. I’m not good. Not even a little bit.”

“Your mom has nothing to do with you.” She stepped closer, touching his elbow.

“You’re wrong. She actually has everything to do with me. I could snap one day, Gen. You and I, we’re just fucking gambling here.”

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