Page 164 of Vicious Saint
“You may not like this part of me, Hendrix, and I’m more than aware it can make you hate me. But even Jesus Christ asked his disciples to hold their silence. You know why?”
No.
Because a sermon is not something I signed up for when I followed him out of the dining room.
Yet here I am.
Unwilling to disregard his beliefs—even though he has no problem doing such things to me.
“Why?”
“Because he knew they could get hurt if they didn’t.”
“Then you’re admitting you caused the problem you’re trying to fix.”
“More like leaving my words open for your interpretation.”
Frustration coils every single one of my muscles.
“So you’re lying to me?”
“No.” He holds up a finger. “But I could’ve.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose, fighting every impulse to leave his ass alone with Esme.
“What is it that you want from me, Vic? Blind trust? Because it’s not in me, sorry.”
“Then how about a little time?”
“For what?”
“For me to earn it.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms. “But I stay with Theory.”
“You’re looking for truth, Hendrix, right?”
“Obviously.”
“Okay, so here’s a very important one.” Vic glances over my shoulder, where we came from, then back at me. “Although my son’s methods are morally questionable, his instinct to protect is as sharp as glass.”
Great. Another fact I can’t argue.
“Here’s another truth, okay?”
When Vic remains silent for longer than my patience can tolerate, I blurt out, “Well, what is it?”
“You make him better.”
Okay, I take it all back. He’s as crazy as Saint.
“Have you not seen the animosity between us?”
“Of course I have, which is exactly why I know having you as a sister is good for him. Saint has a select few he cares enough about to fight for, or with.”
Not this sibling shit again.
And the ick that comes with it.
