The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,105

Something really, really stupid.”

Silence settles between us. The fire pops, shooting a spark onto the hearth. It pulses like a dying heart before it fades to nothing.

There’s a distant rumble. Is it starting to rain?

“No one alive is a good person, Trinity.”

My eyes snap to him.

He smiles faintly, but without looking at me. “You asked if your parents were good people.”

Suddenly I don’t want to know the answer. Instead, I absently sip at my wine before remembering it’s empty.

Gabriel holds out his hand. I give him the glass. This time, he fills it. But when he passes it over, he doesn’t let it go straight away.

We lock eyes over that forbidden wine, and I can see his hesitation from the way he frowns at me.

“It’s probably better if I don’t—” I begin, releasing the glass.

“They shouldn’t have treated you like that,” Gabriel says. His warm brown eyes are cold now, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

My heart claws its way up my throat.

Oh my God.

He knows.

He fucking knows.

I only realize I’ve gulped down a mouthful of wine when it scorches the back of my throat. I blurt out a hoarse, “How did—?”

But Gabriel doesn’t let me finish. “The way they confined you?” He glances away as he shakes his head. “Keeping you from the world like you were a sin?”

What the hell is he talking about?

His gaze touches me again, hot and livid, before jumping back to the fire. “I never wanted that for you, child. I told them time and time again that you had every right to lead your own life, but they refused to listen.”

“My…parents?”

“An immune system must be exposed to bacteria and viruses for it to build a resistance against them.” He waves a hand in my direction but without taking his eyes from the flames. “They left you defenseless.”

Why is he so upset? Did bringing up my parents hit a nerve? I know he was close to them, but—

“If no one’s good, does that mean everyone’s bad?” I ask.

He turns to me, blinking as he focuses on my face. “We are all born into sin. Only through confession and penance can we cleanse our souls.”

“I haven’t confessed in a long time.”

“Not since your thirteenth birthday.”

I swallow hard, and wish I could look away. Mom made me do it. She made me climb into that cubicle and confess my sins to Father Gabriel.

“Don’t let such silly things plague you,” he murmurs, a ghost of a smile coming back to his mouth. “There are worse things in the world.”

Worse than having to admit you’d been discovered touching yourself? Worse than feeling such overwhelming shame at your changing body that you swore never ever to even look down there again? And you’ve kept that promise ever since.

So worse, maybe, but not for me. Not back then.

Except, quite possibly, this moment. Because all that shame just came crashing back like a fucking tsunami.

“I should go,” I mumble, wine sloshing up the side of the glass as I push to my feet. “You’re busy, and—”

He’s on his feet next. He grasps my wrist, and gently takes away my wine. “I’ll never be too busy for you, Trinity. Please. Sit.”

But my body feels like it’s constructed from rusted metal.

He urges me down, but instead of taking his seat again, he goes to stand in front of the fire. His body blocks the heat, and for that I’m grateful. But it also blocks the warm light. I feel lost in his shadow.

“There’s something you should know, child,” Gabriel murmurs. “Something I’ve been meaning to tell you since you got here. I probably should have told you a long time ago.”

Gabriel turns to face me. With his face in shadow, I can’t make out anything in his eyes. But his voice is low and deep when he speaks again, filled with…what? Regret? Shame?

“It’s about your father. I—”

A cell phone rings. I yelp at the unexpected sound, and Gabriel lets out a soft chuckle that sounds forced. “Sorry, dear. Let me just take this.”

The fuck? No!

I whip my head around to stare at him as he walks away, already putting his cell phone to his ear.

My eyes latch onto the big wall clock hanging beside his window.

Eight o’clock.

Right on time.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Zach

“I’m starting to think you don’t like me anymore.” The mischievous gleam in Cass’s eyes belies the questioning tone in his voice.

“What tipped you off?” I pull the rope tight and give it a yank for good measure.

Cass gags theatrically before slipping the noose