Page 72 of The Sinner and the Scholar
The reason why I’ve been so confused and messed up.
“It doesn’t matter if I have feelings for him,” I say. “We’re headed in different directions. Alice and Mary were the exceptions. Sinners don’t fall in love.”
My proclamation sounds empty after what I shared with Wesley, after reading Mary’s gospel. She thinks everyone deserves love. Especially sinners.
Mercy’s quiet, and I know she’s contemplating her own emotions and thoughts. We’ve had this talk before. You don’t leave the Sisterhood unless you’re in a body bag. But things have changed.
We’re not a secret organization anymore.
Demons are real.
Hell is real.
Enjoying the ride isn’t as fun as it used to be. The ride fucking sucks. I’d rather not go to hell at all. I’d rather spend life with loved ones.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t know what to do, Mercy.”
“That’s an illegal statement. Dorothea always knows what to do.”
Despite myself, I chuckle. They used to sing that to me when we were training. I was an arrogant know-it-all when I told other recruits how it should be done.
“Hey,” Mercy coos, sensing my unrest. “What’s holding you back? He wants you, right? I mean, even I could see that.”
I shrug. “I think he’s just as messed up as us. Shit happened to him when he was younger. Maybe he’s afraid of commitment… or… he’s hiding something, and it’s affecting his decisions.”
“What do you mean?”
“He puts on an act sometimes. One minute he’s nice, and the next, he’s an asshole. I know I’m pushing his buttons half the time but… I don’t know.”
Mercy chuckles. “Babe, men do that when trying to impress a girl they’re intimidated by. He’s probably inexperienced, nervous, and shy and has no idea how to handle the force of his attraction.”
That sounds like how I’ve behaved toward him.
But Wesley’s completely shut down.
I frown. “Or he’s misdirecting, so I don’t find out what he’s hiding. He knew we stole the gospel. Said he was waiting for us to come clean, but something’s not adding up. We shared something special, and now he’s ignoring me. He’s keeping distance between us…”
My voice trails off. I can’t voice the thought.
Mercy says, “Only one way to find out. Is he sleeping right now?”
I glance over, and he’s still frowning, but his eyes are closed, and his breathing is steady. “Yes.”
“Look through his things. Check his messages.”
“Mercy…”
“Babe, Prue would do it for us.”
“You’re right.” This is more than my hurt feelings. This is a battle for Prue’s soul. Thinking of our fallen sister makes me think about the heist. “Speaking of misdirection, what do you think if we stage a distraction for the heist? We can black out the city.”
“I still think you should flash your tits, but you probably know better. I’ll add it to the list.”
“Good. Get some contacts lined up. I’ll keep you posted.” I hang up.
Blanking my mind, I tip-toe down the aisle to Wesley. Keeping one eye on his sleeping form, I gather his backpack and rifle through the contents. None of it means much to me—a few occult items I assume will help him with spells, a pack of white cards, half with arcane marks, the others waiting to be scribbled on. It’s nothing I didn’t expect.
I put the backpack down and look at Wes.
