Page 31 of Lust

The second we pull up outside Syd’s, she’s tugging at the door handle to escape. Ro is right on her heels, marching after her as she heads for her front door.

I’m in no hurry because there’s not a fucking chance Ro is going to leave this—whateveritis! At a sloth-like pace, I get out and traipse up the path to Syd’s. I don’t hear any shouting—yet. My guess is that neither of them want the neighbours to see or hear what’s about to go down.

Stepping over the threshold, I close the door behind me. The click of the catch echoes in the silence, which is broken less than a second later.

“Who are you?” Syd asks as I step into the room, then she waves her hands and continues. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know, but I do want you to leave. I don’t want you here, and I certainly don’t need your help.”

“Anyone else have a sense of deja vu?” I mutter, striding to the sofa and sitting down.

A dual “Shut up!” is aimed my way from Ro and Syd, and I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’ll just sit here and let you two work it out.”

I grab the bible sitting on the coffee table and begin flicking through the pages while surreptitiously throwing glances in the direction of Ro, who is standing with his arms crossed and leaning against a large dresser.

Sydney blows out an exasperated breath, her head hung between her shoulders and hands resting on her hips. Raising her head, she pins Ro in her sights. “Thank you for bringing me home and helping to get my pa’s things, but I’ve got it from here.”

“What do you know about your mother?” Ro asks, blindsiding Syd and me.

Where the fuck did that come from?

Syd’s gaze swings to me, and she frowns. I don’t blame her seeing as I was asking questions about her mother in the car not thirty minutes ago.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” she says defensively, and more than a little cautious.

“Answer the question, Sydney. I don’t have time for games,” Ro says, pushing off the wall and moving in her direction.

I close the bible and place it back on the coffee table as I get to my feet. I have a strong feeling I need to be ready to intervene. I watch Syd’s reaction, and her whole demeanour changes. Her bravery vanishes and is replaced with fear—no, not fear. Curiosity and something else. As Ro closes the space, I move in beside him—deja vu, like I said. My own anger at Syd still lingers but there are more pressing emotions circling right now.

“Ro, what’s going on?” I ask quietly and calmly. But Ro is not listening, I’m not sure he’s even still in the room. “Ro, Syd told me earlier that she doesn’t remember her mother.” That is not news to either of us. Despite extensive digging into Warren James’, a.k.a. Amos Kincaid, background, we weren’t able to find anything on the woman who gave birth to Sydney.

“Okay. How about your earliest memory?”

Sydney shakes her head, looking between the two of us. “I-I remember…”

“Come on, Sydney. You must have a significant memory as a child. What is it?”

My eyes catch Ro’s over Syd’s head, silently asking him what this is all about. His eyes are clear and alive with the same fury he had after his trip to the toilet at the hospital. He gives a small shake of his head, telling me to leave it alone.

“Why are there no pictures of you with your mum, or you as a baby in your father’s house? Come on, Syd. Answer the damn question!” Ro’s voice rises with the last part, causing Syd to jump in fear or surprise, or both. “It’s not that fucking hard.Do you even know who you are? Who your father is? Or your mother? Who is she, where is she?”

Ro throws question after question at her, his anger and frustration growing with every one. Syd’s shoulders slump, and each question hits like a punch to the stomach.

Tears well in her eyes, her chest heaves and her breathing becomes ragged as Ro fires another round of questions like arrows from a bow. “Do you fucking know anything?”

It’s the final strike, and Sydney crumbles like a house of cards under the weight.

“Stop! Stop! I don’t fucking know anything!” She screams, stumbling back in shock from the force of her words. A sob bursts from her, and she slaps a hand over her mouth to smother it.

Ro shoots forward and grabs her arms. His eyes scan every inch of her face, then he brings his face close, nose to nose. “No, you’re right. You don’t know anything. But know this, this delusional, God-fearing world full of love and happiness bubble you’ve been living in just fucking burst. You’re going to learn the real world is far from what you think.” Releasing her, and without another word or even a look in my direction, he stalks from the room. The front door slams, and a second later an engine revs before screeching away.

Sydney rushes past me, fleeing to the sanctuary of her bedroom.

Leaving me in the middle of the living room with no damn clue what just happened and only the muffled backdrop of sobbing coming from Syd’s room.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SYDNEY

My body shivers, and I feel cold to the bone. Curling tighter into a ball on my bed, I hug my knees and clutch the cross I wear on a chain around my neck. I don’t understand why Roman acted that way, or why he would be asking questions about my mother. Did he know her? No, that’s not possible.

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