Page 15 of Of Sinners & Salvation
“They got her,” I say quietly.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath, closing his eyes. “Fuck fuck fuck. Just like E.”
“No,” I say firmly, standing and going to the bed. I take his hand, holding it tight in mine, careful to avoid the IV port in the back. “We’re not kids anymore. We’re not helpless. We’re going to find her. Eternity too. We already know who took her, and we have someone who’s going to lead us after them.”
“I’m coming too.”
“No fucking way,” I say. “You need to stay here.”
Heath’s eyes open, teal-blue and filled with sorrow. “I have to,” he says, his fingers tightening around mine. “She’s mine too. I love her, Saint. And… It’s my fault.”
He looks away, his throat working to swallow.
I grip his chin and turn his face toward me again, pinning his gaze to mine. “No,” I say firmly. “It’s the Disciples’ fault. Don’t even start that shit.”
He swallows at last, his nostrils flaring, his lips pinched together. Then he nods.
“Good,” I say, squeezing his hand. I realize how long I’ve been holding onto it, how I should have let go. My thumb ghosts over the veins in the back of his hand, his knuckles, the tape holding the IV in place. His gaze follows the motion, and then slowly, his long, dark lashes flutter as he lifts his eyes to meet mine.
My pulse skips, and a funny feeling hollows out behind my ribcage, empty and overflowing at the same time.
“Hey,” he says. “I’m sorry about… About what I did at the movie on the lawn.”
I swallow hard, wanting to speak but unable. I’m suddenly aware of the heat of his palm against mine, how it felt that night, his fingers tight around my cock, stroking up and down under the blanket. How hard I was—and how scared. All those people were around us, and even though it was dark, I couldn’t help but hear Dad’s words in my head, and the cries of that boy.
Sexual deviant.
Please, Father. Not again.
I thought of what all those people on that lawn would say if they knew. How many of them would call me those same names, would think I should go to that priest for treatment, for his special cure. I’m ashamed that I cared what they thought, that I even considered it at all. But I did.
I thought I’d never get a chance to make it right, to tell Heath. Even Angel called me on it. But now the moment is here, and I have the chance. I clear my throat, grinding at the painful block lodged there.
“It’s fine,” I say, my voice coming out gruff. “Listen, about that…”
Heath waits, not jumping ahead to make a joke and turn the moment away from the awkwardness, not relieving me of the burden of my confession. He waits, his eyes tired but resigned. My heart starts to hammer in my chest. Maybe it’s not what he wants to hear at all. Maybe he dreads what I’ll say next. And is this really the right time to say it, to put this burden on him? He needs to heal, not think of ways to let me down easy.
Because once it’s out there, it’s out there. I can’t take it back. You can’t undo the damage that words like that will do.
As if he senses my anguish, his fingers tighten, tugging, like he’s trying to bring me closer. I want to lie on the bed with him, wedge myself in between him and the railing, but the bed is too narrow. If he turns on one side, he’ll pull his IV out, and theother… The other is bandaged, the thick layers over the stitches that trail from his wrist to elbow, the grisly cut he made that almost killed him.
I swallow hard, searching Heath’s eyes, misery swirling through me. Is it fair to tell him at all? Especially now, when he’s vulnerable?
“Heath,” I say, my voice raspy. I clear my throat and open my mouth to go on, but just then, the door swings open. I quickly draw my hand from Heath’s.
“Shift change,” says the nurse. “Just checking in on my favorite patient. Oh! You have a guest.” She frowns at me. “I’m sorry, honey. Visiting hours were over hours ago.”
“I was just leaving,” I say, not looking at Heath. I can’t bear to see the look in his eyes, to know what he thinks of me. He’s braver than me, brave enough to tell me things if I let him, but I never do. And when it was my turn, I choked. Besides, I already know he loves Mercy. He said so tonight. If he can have her, why would he want a coward who drops his hand the minute someone might see?
six
The Merciless
“What’s happening?”
I jerk my head up, but the rest of me is immobile. I tug at my arms, but they’re secured tightly, and when I look down, I see that I’m bound inside a straitjacket and strapped to a bed. It’s similar to a hospital bed, but the railing along the side is thicker metal, like they think someone could tear the bed apart if they wanted to free themselves badly enough. Instead of bright overhead fluorescents like a hospital, this room is lit with a strip of warm lighting around the ceiling, more of a security light. I’m alone in the room, but a tinted glass window takes up most of one wall, reminiscent of a hospital nursery where new parents can look through at their babies, decide whether to keep them for a few years or give them up now.
Ironic that someone would go to all this trouble for a girl whose own parents didn’t even want her. If they didn’t want me, who would? If Julian knew, maybe he’d reconsider. Maybe he’ll toss me back, consider me defective when he finds out I’ve already been passed over.
