Page 85 of Sweet Sinners
"You’re not," I promise, voice firm, steady. "I won’t let that happen. I’m not going anywhere, Cali. We’re in this together. You're stronger than her."
She lets out another breath, softer now, calmer. "Okay, okay. You're right."
"Of course I am," I murmur, smiling faintly. "Now, breathe. Go lock your office door, take a few minutes to pull yourself together, and I'll take care of Anna. Trust me."
"I do," she whispers, voice softening. "I trust you, Connor."
Warmth unfurls inside me, deep and dangerously addictive. "Good. I'll text you as soon as I have something."
When the call ends, I lean back, exhaling slowly. Cali's okay for now, but I won't rest easy until Anna’s no longer a threat. Before today, Iwouldn't have cared enough to dig. But now Anna's threatening Cali, and that's something I can’t ignore. I need answers, fast.
It doesn't take Nathan long to point me in the right direction. I owe him now—big-time—but whatever price he asks will be worth it if it keeps Cali safe. He shoots me a text filled with information and links to obscure forums I've never seen before. Sketchy, anonymous corners of the internet, where secrets are spilled, hidden beneath layers of anger and pain.
Exactly where Anna buried hers.
Her parents divorced, messy and public. Her father moved out, but her mother moved on quicker—straight into the arms of her thenboss. Mystepdad. Cali’sfather. The threads weave together quickly and neatly, painting a story that makes my blood boil and my fists clench with disgust.
My jaw tightens painfully as I read deeper, finding online rants, disguised just enough to keep her anonymity. She blames her mother’s heartbreak and her family’s downfall on the man who ended the affair—my stepfather. Anna’s fury leaps off the screen, bitterness and entitlement twisted into something ugly. But beneath that rage, there’s a detail that makes my stomach twist violently.
My mother died because of their selfish mess.
I grip my phone tighter, the anger bubbling to the surface again. My innocent mother was collateral damage—collateral in a game she never knew existed. All because my stepdad couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.
I clench my jaw, forcing back the urge to punch something. Cali deserves to know, but how the fuck am I supposed to tell her? Especially now, when she’s barely holding herself together?
A bigger problem slams into me. Cali fired Anna today. Publicly. Spectacularly. Anna’s humiliated, cornered—and now has nothingleft to lose. She already dropped hints everywhere online about others being involved, about the "friend’s dad" who was to blame for everything.
My pulse spikes painfully, anxiety gnawing at my chest. What if Anna snaps? What if she decides humiliation isn’t enough? Cali’s in danger, and it’s all my fault—I brought this mess back into her life.
“Fuck,” I mutter, scrubbing my hands over my face, feeling the weight of everything crash down on me. I hate worrying about Cali's safety, her sanity. I hate questioning every move I make, every truth I uncover, because right now, all I want is her. I want to lose myself in her body, in that perfect, reckless oblivion that makes all this chaos fade away.
It’s wrong. Forbidden. Twisted.
And it’s exactly why I can’t stop.
I stare at the screen again, my thumb hovering over Cali’s number. I have to tell her about everything I saw online—but I can't help but wonder what it'll break in her. Cali’s strong, sure, but beneath her carefully controlled surface is a girl who's drowning, who no one sees clearly enough to save. Except me.
And I'll be damned if I let Anna or anyone else take her down.
"Connor!" Cali calls out, the sharp echo of her voice carrying up the stairs, jolting me back to reality.
I blink, sitting upright at my desk, momentarily confused by the fading daylight filtering through the upstairs window. Shit. I wasted the entire day chasing after Anna’s secrets and got nowhere. No dinnermade, no game plan, and definitely no fucking clue how to handle seeing Cali after everything that Nathan has uncovered today.
Quickly, I minimize the browser tabs, pull a wrinkled shirt over my head, and jog downstairs. Halfway down, I nearly collide with her—my stepsister, my maybe-girlfriend—standing at the base of the staircase, already reaching for me to steady herself. Her eyes lock onto mine, wide and searching.
“I’m stressed,” she blurts out softly, fingers gripping the sleeve of my shirt.
"I can tell," I reply, noticing the anxious pinch between her brows, the way her chest rises and falls rapidly beneath the button-up blouse she wore to the office. "What else are you feeling after what happened today?"
Her gaze flicks briefly toward the front door behind her, then back to me. She shifts restlessly on her heels, arms crossing tightly beneath her chest. "I've never fired anyone before, Connor," she admits, frustration edging into her voice. "If Anna's sabotaging us, it's not a stretch to think she could be involved in our parents' deaths. But when I say it out loud, it sounds insane."
She exhales, shoulders slumping slightly as she glances down at her shoes. "There was also a weird exchange with Dean at lunch. I got through the rest of my meetings, but I'm still pissed, annoyed, and..." Her eyes slowly lift to mine again, darkening in a way that makes my pulse kick up. "I need this day to be over—or maybe you can fix it."
“Dean?” My jaw clenches involuntarily, irritation flaring as I picture him smiling smugly at her in the office. “The guy you went out with? You didn’t mention him earlier.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically, releasing a heavy sigh. "For the hundredth time, we didn’t go out. He just ran into me while I was out.” Cali reaches for me again, her fingertips lightly brushing my forearm,trailing lower to rest on my hip. Her voice softens, eyes deepening with unmistakable hunger. "Maybe I'm overthinking it. He was probably just trying to make me feel better after Anna’s meltdown. Can we stop talking about everyone else for a second and just—"
"I haven’t made dinner yet," I interrupt gently, nodding toward the empty kitchen behind her, the polished hardwood floors and high ceilings suddenly feeling stifling. "We can talk it out while I cook or—"
