The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,203

tilts and then he steps to the side, revealing the only non-reclining armchair in this space.

Zachary is perched on the edge of the seat. He’s wearing a Gucci T-shirt that probably cost more than the couch, and a pair of tattered jeans.

He looks the same as he always has.

Weeks after we left Virginia and came to live in Dana Point in this mansion Zachary bought us, the others started transforming. Like butterflies fresh out of their cocoons.

Cass grew out his hair.

Reuben stopped wearing his colored contacts.

Apollo…okay, he hasn’t transformed much. But he does spend a lot less time by himself than he used to. He and Cass go surfing together in the morning where in the past, according to Rube, he’d have gone alone.

But Zach?

Put him in a cable-knit sweater and a pair of loafers, and he’s Brother Rutherford.

Which is one of the reasons why it’s been six months, and Zachary and I still haven’t spoken more than two words to each other.

Because he hasn’t changed.

Not on the outside.

Not on the inside.

“I did enjoy my swim, thank you for asking,” I tell Rube, now blatantly ignoring Zachary. “In fact, I think I’ll go have a lie-down. All that splashing around tired me out.”

I turn my back, slip past Cass, and head for the master bedroom.

“Trinity.” Zach’s voice stops me in my tracks. And fuck, I hate that he still has that kind of power over me. “Please.”

The taste of strawberries goes sour in my mouth. “No.” My back is still turned. “I’m not…” I want to say ready, but that’s not the right word.

I hear fabric rustle. Zachary getting to his feet. I hear his bare feet on the floor as he comes closer. The moment his hands touch my shoulders, I spin around and shove him away.

There’s a sudden tension in the room, like every one of his brothers is holding his breath.

“I said no.” The words are barely a whisper.

Zach watches me, and then nods. He takes a step back, drops his eyes. “Okay.”

I blink hard, and look away making sure I don’t catch anyone else’s eye.

No, he hasn’t changed. He might act it, and his brothers might insist he has, but I know he’s the same angry, spiteful person he was six months ago.

Sure, he’s been going to therapy. But from what Cass tells me—which isn’t a lot—he’s only just started on a very long journey.

And in the meantime? He’s pumping himself full of drugs so he’ll be the kind of man we all want him to be.

Calm.

Peaceful.

But what happens when he stops taking his drugs? Will he be holding a knife up my skirt and telling me to fuck off again?

Yes, I’m grateful he saved my life. But he’s the whole reason I was in that house to begin with. It’s because of him that I told Gabriel everything I knew. He’s the one that made me question everything I thought I knew. And when I had no answers, I turned to the only man I thought could provide them.

Gabriel.

His brothers think he’s earned my forgiveness.

He hasn’t.

Not even close.

But every time I try to explain it to them, I get tangled up in words and emotions. So I told them I wasn’t ready. That I had things to work through before I’d let Zachary be a larger part of our lives than he is now. Because I can’t deny them anything, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let him anywhere near my heart.

The sound of my damp feet is barely audible over my pounding heart as I head to the top floor. The entire level is reserved for the main suite. Bedroom. En suite bathroom. Massive walk-in closet. A small lounge. A wrap-around balcony with a hot tub.

I lied about going to sleep. I’m too wired for that to even be an option. But at least I can rinse my hair and get into some comfy clothes. My skin’s pebbling after being in that warm pool.

When I step inside the black, gold-veined marble shower, it turns on automatically.

Apollo rigged the whole house with stuff like that. At night, my way is lighted with barely-visible downlights all the way down to the kitchen for a glass of water. When I step into the pool, the lights turn on.

I lose myself under the shower’s rain setting, trying not to think about the looming argument.

It always comes when I say no.

Then my men spend days trying to change my mind. We fight. We make up. And the whole thing’s