Page 228 of The Sinner: James

He lies next to me.

“Come to me,” I say.

He shifts his position, lodges himself between my legs, and props his back against my chest.

My hands trail his neck and shoulders as I start massaging his muscles.

Slowly, he de-tenses.

I thread my fingers through his hair and slide my palms down, trailing his chest and neck again.

“It’s good,” he says in a throaty voice.

I wrap my legs around him too.

“You’re great,” he says seriously.

I remain silent.

“It’s not a compliment. It’s a fact,” he says.

“Okay.”

“I’m not going to dance around it, baby. And you shouldn’t either. Own it.”

“I do,” I say, my voice faltering.

He turns his head to me and catches sight of my eyes.

“I’m no better than you if that’s any consolation.”

He leans against me again, and I stroke his hair.

“Were you always like that?” I ask.

“More or less. I’ve always been wild. It started when I was very young, and my father brought women home after my mom left.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“Why did she leave?”

He stays silent.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have you asked that.”

“No... It’s fine. She left my dad for a younger man. Honestly, I don’t know the real reason. My father never told me. He seemed broken over it and acted out a lot, but he never cared to explain.”

“What about her? Has she talked to you?”

“No.”

He sighs.

“She never did. And that made me angry. A summer afternoon, she came home from her art gallery––my father wasn’t home that night––and we had dinner. She acted normally. Generally speaking, she wasn’t emotionally unavailable or anything like that. At least, not that I remember. We made plans for that weekend. Lex, Ed, and I were supposed to go camping, and she said she’d bake a birthday cake for me, and it would be ready by the time I came back. I woke up the next morning and walked into the kitchen, suspecting nothing. And then something struck me as off. The house smelled like freshly brewed coffee, yet she was nowhere in sight. I found an envelope on the kitchen table––it was addressed to my father. There was nothing for me. Later, he told me she had left. And that was it.”

He takes a long breath while I run my fingers across his chest. He leans against me, no longer tense.

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