Page 21 of Second Sin

The nightmare is always the same.

Death.

Skin gone pale. Lips tinged blue. Eyes open but empty. Her body twisted wrong on the vomit covered floor.

She stares at me. Silent. Then a scream.

“Your fault.”

I jolt awake, lungs locked up, chest heaving like I’ve been sucker punched.

The apartment’s quiet. Cold.

Sweat slicks my skin, sheets twisted around my legs like restraints. I sit up, elbows on my knees, drag a hand down my face.

The dream fades.

But the guilt?

That stays.

I shower without turning the light on. Just steam and silence and the echo of everything I ruined.

By the time I’ve pulled on joggers and a hoodie, the sun’s rising. I shove AirPods in, crank the volume. Run until my lungs burn and my legs shake.

But the memories still come.

At twenty-one, I was half-boy, half-hunger—still trying to prove I belonged in a man’s world. Just drafted and feeling like I had the world by the balls. Cocky. Arrogant. Fueled by testosterone and adrenaline.And reckless enough to think consequences were for other people.

And then there was her.

Elise Durant.

Thirty-two. Long legs. All curves. A body made for sin and the confidence to cash it in.

Nothing about her was subtle. Nothing about her was real.

But Jesus, did it work.

She knew she was beautiful, and she used it like a weapon. Pressed it into you until you felt lucky just to be in her orbit.

She was all over me from the start.

Not coy. Not quiet. Not like the puck bunnies who giggled and asked for selfies after games. Elise didn’t ask. She took.

Ran a hand over my chest when she passed me at the bar. Slid into the seat beside me like she’d been invited. Told me I looked too young to drink, then ordered me a whiskey like she owned my night.

I should’ve been smarter. Should’ve seen through it.

But I didn’t care.

Because in that moment, it felt like someone finally saw me. Not the prospect.

Not the stats.Me.

And I wanted more.

I didn’t know she was married. Not at first.

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