Page 9 of In the Light of Sin

You could see the few wavy strands of his beautiful brown hair when he wore his hood. His chestnut hair was missing from the left side, the scars making their mark there. I never imagined that he would have such lush hair, the urge to run my hands through the waves making my fingers twitch. I love having my hair played with, but I doubt he felt the same.

“Sarge?”

The coffee cup he was bringing to his mouth stalled, his arm slightly shaking before he dropped the mug, pieces shattering before he put his hands over his face to hide himself even though his back was turned to me. “Close your fuckin’ eyes!”

I slammed my eyes shut and covered them with my hands as an added precaution. I could hear heavy footfalls as he rushed out of the room, the slamming of a door rippling off the walls. I waited a few minutes, hoping I was clear from his potential warpath before I opened my eyes.

I glanced down the hall, hearing rustling in his room. My heart sank. He was so used to being alone he forgot I was here, invading his safe place. Sarge relied on routines to keep him sane, and here I was, disrupting all of them. My stomach fluttered, and I felt awful that he couldn’t even enjoy his morning coffee unmasked due to me.

Like I said, I tainted everything. That included the simple things. Maybe Nyla would let me stay with her and Mitchell? Or maybe Oakley would be better? V was there a lot. I could possibly ward him off? I sighed, my mind running a mile a minute while I eyed the shattered mug on the tiled floor. The least I could do was clean the mess off the floor.

Walking to the kitchen, I debated which cabinet his broom and dustpan would be in. I opened the tallest cabinet, thinking it would be in there, but I was wrong.

Verywrong.

Two shelves full of top-shelf liquor stared back at me, drying my throat instantly. The door rattled as my hand began to shake, unable to take my eyes off my greatest temptation. Last night, I’d almost given in, something I would’ve regretted instantly and more than likely would’ve drank that feeling away. I’d rather be drunk than disappointed in myself. I’d spent too many years feeling that way.

But at the end of the day, I’d rather feel nothing than the internal pain everyone told me was my imagination since they couldn’t physically see it. Isn’t that why people turn to anything to numb it? So they could physically see on the outside what trauma was doing to us on the inside?

I shut my eyes, slamming the cabinet door to the past closed. The past twenty-four hours have wreaked havoc on me. I’d been so careful to avoid any triggers, but somehow, they always call out to me like a test. I knew it would always be there…

Would I always be strong enough to resist it?

I had to focus on something else. I clamored through the cabinets, finally finding the broom and dustpan underneath the sink. I walked over to Sarge’s mess, sweeping the shards methodically into the dustpan. All the pieces were already collected, but my mind was in an endless loop of familiar motions.

I barely noticed when Sarge came out of his room moments later, clothed in his usual attire of dark denim jeans, a cut-off sweatshirt with the hood encompassing his face, and his MC cut. I looked up at him from where I was kneeling on the kitchen floor, cleaning up the shattered mug and spilled coffee. “What are you doin’?”

“You like things clean,” I replied with a smile as I stood up, hoping he didn’t notice the mindless trance he broke. I dumped the pieces into the trash bin before walking to his God-awful bath towel cabinet to clean the coffee spill. “Thought I would help out a bit? Only fair after you saved me last night.”

I don’t think he liked me comparing my almost assault being equal to cleaning spilled coffee on the floor.

“You don’t have to.”

I grabbed the soapy rag before kneeling down again, the lukewarm coffee coming up easily. “I want to. You’re not used to people wanting to help you?”

He didn’t answer, just watched me circle the cloth on his floor until the stain totally disappeared. I knew he didn’t. He was a very independent man, and living out in the middle of nowhere was an obvious indicator of that. Honestly, I was shocked that he didn’t have a hidden farm somewhere in the woods, so he didn’t have to deal with people at the grocery store. “What’s the plan for today, roomie?”

“Not my roommate.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his grumble. He was the one that invitedmehere. I think I was allowed to call myself his roomie. “Gotta go to the club. Hear the shit you caught through the wire.”

“Ah.” My mood dipped, but I still tried my best to remain chipper. “So I just stay here?”

“No,” he growled. “Not stayin’ here by yourself. This is my fuckin’ space. You’re already wearin’ out your welcome.”

“You’re the one who brought me here,” I huffed, crossing my arms under my breasts. “If I’m not wanted, why didn’t you just drop me off somewhere else?”

I may not see his facial expressions, but his feverish growl told me he was growing more frustrated with my sass. “Didn’t trust anyone else to watch you.” I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, but he cut me off. “Don’t have time for your shit. Take your hearin’ aids out, and let’s go.”

I couldn’t help but smile as he walked to his front door, not waiting to hear me out. It was just a small thing, but him telling me to take my hearing aids out before I rode with him because he knew it hurt to ride with them made me feel giddy. Someone remembering the small details about you always made you feel special.

“Joslyn!”

“Coming!” I chirped, practically skipping to the front door. I opened the storm door as he stepped out behind me, ensuring the front door was locked. “Ready to go to our second home?”

I snickered as he stomped past me, choosing not to entertain my jest.

Oh yeah, we were totally roommates.

Chapter 3: Sarge

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