My Sinful Longing (Sinful Men Book 3)

by Lauren Blakely

  “What was that like? Seeing her?” I asked as I headed to the fridge to grab sodas. It was a natural instinct—invite someone into your house, offer them a beverage. Maybe I needed one normal moment in the midst of this madness.

  Marcus bit the corner of his lip, then answered, “She’s . . .” He let his voice trail off, searching for words. “She’s emotional, and she’s not really—”

  “She’s not all there. You can say it.” Ryan heaved a sigh. I handed out the sodas, then clapped my older brother on the back. Ryan had been hit hardest by our mom’s incarceration, since he’d held on to the hope that she might be innocent for so much longer than the rest of us had. It was only fitting that he’d be the one to give voice to the descent Dora had taken behind bars.

  Ryan cracked open the soda can.

  That familiar action jarred me—the three of us drinking sodas at my kitchen table. This was the definition of surreal—our trio parked at the same table where I’d eaten free-range eggs this morning, a slice of avocado on the side. Now, I was chatting with the instant brother who’d fallen from the sky and into my life this afternoon. And yet, he hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere. He’d been skirting the perimeter. “Why are you here now, Marcus?” I asked, opting for directness. “Why did you want to let us know who you are?”

  Marcus gulped. “I wanted to . . .” He broke off, then dropped his head in his hands.

  My instinct to help kicked in. “Hey. What is it?” I asked softly.

  “I feel so stupid,” he mumbled.

  “Don’t feel that way, just tell me. Tell us.”

  Marcus raised his face. Glanced away. Swallowed. Then looked back at us. “I just feel so disconnected sometimes from my family. I love them, but I feel like I’m not a part of them. Like I’m not part of anything.” He leveled his gaze with ours. “My dad and I don’t always see eye to eye, and my stepmom tries to include me, but she’s busy with my little sisters, and I just feel like I was grafted onto their family. Like they were all just stuck with me. They had no choice but to take me.” His voice turned colder, but sadder too, as he added, “I was nobody’s choice.”

  My heart ached for the kid. My family had been blasted to pieces, but I’d always felt tethered to my siblings and my grandparents. “Is that why you were following us?”

  Marcus nodded, a confession in his dark-brown eyes. “I wanted to see what you guys were like. That probably sounds stupid, but once I moved out of my parents’ house this summer, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. I didn’t lie to you about why I was at Shannon’s. I’m part of the Protectors, and I went to Shannon’s street as part of the patrol. But also to keep an eye on her. And since I knew your names, and found out you volunteered at the community center, I started going there to hang out.”

  My breath caught as I processed this new detail. Marcus had been stalking us, but not to cause trouble. Rather to see what the Sloans were like. To gather intel. I had no idea if I would’ve done anything differently in his shoes. “You knew who I was when you came to my math tutorial?”

  “I did,” he said with a nod, and a brief smile formed on my face. I couldn’t deny that I admired the hell out of the way Marcus said those two words—I did. Because he owned it. He owned his actions. He stood by the fact that he’d been spying on us. “I wanted to know if you all seemed . . . well, cool.”

  I turned to Ryan, whose expression had softened. The initial shock in his blue eyes had been replaced by something else. Concern maybe? That was certainly what I felt. This kid had been left unanchored in a crazy world, born in the strangest of circumstances, told to keep secrets. All he wanted now was a connection.

  “Did we? Seem cool?” Ryan asked, a playful note in his voice for the first time since this conversation had started.

  Marcus laughed lightly, then gestured to me. “Well, you’re the only one I’ve talked to. And yeah, I think you’re cool,” he said. “And I think it’s cool that I’m good at math, like you are.”

  “Me too,” I said with a smile.

  “You need to meet Michael and Shan. They’re pretty awesome as well,” Ryan added.

  “I’d like that.”

  I wasn’t ready to invite the kid over for Christmas dinner, or break out the family photo albums. I wasn’t going to take him out for pizza and ice cream yet. But I didn’t intend to show him the door either.

  I did what I knew was best—I spoke the truth.

  “Look,” I said, scooting my chair closer to the table. “I don’t know what to say. I’m floored. Part of me feels like you were tricking me by talking to me while knowing what you knew.” I chose bluntness. My mantra, my mission—no more lies, no more secrets. “But on the other hand, I get it. I probably would have done the same. You had a boatload of stuff to deal with, and now I get why you made that comment in the car this morning about not knowing it was me who was going to be driving you to the test.”

  “I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you. Of the fact that we’re . . .” The careful words came out awkwardly, like he was afraid again to say “brothers.”

  “That we’re . . .” I stuck on the word too, then pushed past it. “That we’re brothers.”

  That sounded so immensely weird. Even stranger without Michael and Shannon being there. I’d call them in a few minutes. Then I remembered where I was supposed to be right now. At Elle’s match. Looking at the time, I realized it was probably almost over, and frustration coursed through me. I’d call her soon too, and explain why I’d missed the match, and surely she’d understand. Probably be excited, in a way, that one of the boys she watched out for had done something brave.

  Because that was what Marcus’s appearance here today was—downright brave.

  “I’m sorry to just spring it on you. There’s not really a handbook for introducing yourself as the long-lost brother. Or a Hallmark card. I was trying to figure out what to do and say, and then you talked to me that day in the hall at the center,” he said to me. “That’s when I realized I needed to get my act together and just man up and introduce myself. That’s what Elle helped me with.”

  The house went silent. My ears rang with her name, and a chill ran down my spine. “What did you just say?”

  “Elle helped me,” Marcus repeated, as if this was no big deal.

  When it was a big deal. A huge deal.

  “Elle? Elle at the center?” I asked, as if there could possibly be another Elle.

  Marcus nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve been talking to her since the beginning. She’s been counseling me. She’s kind of amazing.”

  That definitely described her.

  Kind of amazing.

  But for the first time ever, other words popped into my head. Words I’d never associated with her before. Words I didn’t want to associate with her.

  If I’d felt the slightest bit tricked before, that was nothing on how I felt now.

  Elle Mariano had lied.

  45

  Elle

  My right thumb was trying to secede from my body. It was a lemming, fighting its way off the cliff of my hand.

  Because . . . the pain.

  The slicing, searing pain ripped through my hand in a tornado of hurt. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to cry. Don’t let the opposing team see you weak.

  Play had halted. My teammates skated over to where I was curled up in a ball on the rink. Janine wrapped an arm around my waist and helped me up.

  “C’mon, girl. Let’s get you some ice,” she said softly, guiding me off the rink.

  I whimpered as I skated slowly to the carpeted floor. Camille was there, ready with an ice pack. “Here, let me help you.”

  With my left hand, I waved Janine back to the floor. “Go. Finish. I’m fine,” I said with a wince, as another wave of agony crushed the life out of my hand. My right hip joined in the pity party too, aching from where I’d smashed onto the hardwood of the rink, my hand and hip taking the brunt of the fall. Carefully, I sat on a bench at one o
f the tables.

  The whistle blasted, and my teammates returned to the track, the music blaring again, and the emcee bleating loudly on the overhead PA system. As the game whirled behind me, my sister pressed the ice pack on my traitorous thumb, wrapping it around my hand to the wrist.

  I flinched from the cold as the biting chill swept over my hand.

  “You’re going to be fine. I bet that smarts like hell though,” Camille said gently.

  “Is it broken?” I croaked out.

  “In my humble opinion as a self-appointed orthopedic nurse, I’m going to go out on a limb—sorry, no pun intended—and say nope. But you should get it checked out.”

  Alex walked over and slid in next to me. “You okay, Mom?”

  I lifted my face and smiled faintly at my son. “I’m going to be fine.”

  He raised an eyebrow then peered at my hand. “You should get it checked out. Like Aunt Camille said.”

  I shoved off the pain. “I’m okay.”

  “No. We need to take you in to get it looked at. Make sure it’s not anything serious,” Alex said, slipping into his role as man of the house. He dipped his hand into the pocket of his cargo shorts. “By the way, your phone went off. I didn’t look, but here it is.”

  He placed it on the table, and the text message icon flashed on the screen.

  Several times, indicating several messages. My stomach plummeted when I saw who they were from.

  I hurt a thousand times worse as I gingerly unlocked the phone with my left hand and read each one.

  46

  Colin

  I pictured raging waters sloshing over the front of the kayak as I paddled through a rough spot. I jammed the paddles harder into the water than I needed to, but the current—the tension on the rowing machine—pushed back. I rowed faster, the equipment at the rowing club screeching loudly, as if it was about to snap. Part of me didn’t care. Part of me cared deeply. Another part of me was pissed, and the only thing that mattered was the battle I was waging with the machine.

  And myself.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said those things. Maybe I should have been smarter, kinder, softer.

  But at the very least I’d been honest.

  That had to count for something, didn’t it?

  The machine had no answers. As it simulated a river, the rowing machine simply jerked and pulled, and I fought back, wishing I were on the water for real, far away from land and able to totally disconnect.

  But it was eleven o’clock at night, and this was the only way to fight the demons that whispered temptation in my ear. I was mad, I was frustrated, I was ashamed, and beneath it all, I was strangely happy too.

  For Marcus. For the chance the kid took and the chance I had to get to know him in a new way. For Shan and Michael as well. Ryan and I had taken Marcus to meet them, and it had gone well. But dammit. Today should have been something positive and good. Something that could represent a fresh start.

  But the day turned sour when I’d overreacted. I’d been too blunt with Elle, too honest, and I hated thinking how she might feel right now.

  I wished I could erase those messages. Wished I could do the day over again.

  Now, all I wanted was to spend the night with my onetime loves.

  Patrón and pills.

  Instead, I rowed. I paddled. I gripped. The sound of the gears slammed in my ears over and over. Soon, soon, it would drown out my horrible longing. It had to.

  Oh God, please, it had to.

  47

  Elle

  My mother dangled the white pill in front of me, waving it back and forth like it was a dinosaur vitamin for a three-year-old. “Just take one.”

  I batted it away.

  “Listen to your mama, who’s a nurse. It’ll taste so good,” my mom said in a singsong voice.

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to make a bigger deal of my crash than it was. “I don’t want it.”

  My mom shot me a glare as I settled into the couch. “You have a dislocated thumb, and you’re in so much pain your sister said you were squealing. Now stop being so pigheaded, miss.”

  “I was not squealing,” I insisted. “And, please. It’s a dislocated thumb. Thumb,” I said, emphasizing the extreme mildness of my injury. The urgent care doctor had diagnosed me with a simple dislocation. Then he’d clasped my hand in both of his and manipulated the thumb back into place.

  Sounded easy. Hurt like a son of a bitch.

  Fine. Maybe I had squealed then. Possibly I’d shed the tears I hadn’t let slide down my cheeks at the rink. Perhaps they’d even served double duty—tears of pain and tears of sadness from Colin’s texts.

  I’d deserved them.

  Still, they’d hurt.

  The doctor had placed a metal splint on my thumb and told me I’d be fine in a day or so. “These types of injuries hurt like the dickens when they happen and for the next twenty-four hours, but then it’s pretty much over and done. But just in case, I want you to have some of these,” he’d said as he wrote out a prescription for pain meds.

  I reached for the light blanket on the back of the couch and pulled it over my legs, then shifted to my side and yelped.

  “What is it?” my mom asked, her eyes wide, worry written in them.

  “My hip. It’s not dislocated though. It just hurts, since I landed on it too.” I rubbed the spot where I’d fallen. Using my right hand. Which made my thumb throb. That pain radiated through my hand, up my forearm, and straight to my damn shoulder. I winced. “Guess I shouldn’t use this stupid thumb to rub my stupid hip.”

  “Sweetie, just take one. You’ll feel better.”

  “I don’t want to,” I said. I needed to stay strong. I couldn’t let a simple dislocation rattle me.

  “Mom.” I turned my focus to the hallway door. Alex had popped out of his bedroom. “Take the pill. You’ll feel better. You were crying all evening.”

  “I was not,” I said with a huff.

  My mom heaved a sigh, then shrugged and addressed her next words to Alex. “Nothing we can do about this stubborn lady.”

  “People. You act like I fell off a cliff. This is nothing. I’ll be back in business tomorrow.”

  “But you’re out of roller derby the rest of the season,” Alex said, pointing out those doctor’s orders too. No contact sports for two weeks. Nothing that could lead to reinjury. The season was over in fourteen days.

  “Ugh. Thanks for reminding me. Maybe I should take one now. To numb the pain of missing my games,” I said, cracking a small smile.

  “Now you’re talking,” my mom said, and held out the glass of water.

  “But just half of one, please. I don’t want to be all dopey.”

  My mom nodded and broke the pill in half, dropping one part back in the bottle and handing the remainder to me, and I swallowed the pill. I only had ten in the prescription, and I’d probably only take this one. I didn’t need to spend a sleepless night tossing and turning from the lingering pain.

  “Hey. Speaking of missing games, what happened to Colin? I thought he was going to come today, and we were going to hang out,” Alex said, as he sat cross-legged on the floor. My chest tightened, and I met his gaze. This was hardly the letdown of a lifetime, or even a big letdown in the scheme of things.

  Still, I hated that Colin had canceled the first get-together with my son.

  “He couldn’t make it. Something came up,” I said, both lying and telling the truth.

  “Well, that sucks,” Alex said, annoyance in his voice. “I was kind of looking forward to all of us hanging out.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, Mom. It’s his. If you say you’re going to be somewhere, you should show up.”

  “I know, sweetie. But something came up for him, and he had to deal with it.”

  Alex scoffed. “If you say so.”

  I had to wonder if I sounded the way I had when I’d defended Sam and his unreliable ways, back in the early days.

 
; “She does say so,” my mom chimed in, intervening as she shooed Alex back to his bedroom.

  All alone on the couch, I reached for my phone and reread the message.

  My gut churned once again.

  Colin: I believe in honesty, so let me say this. I just met my new brother. You already know that though. And the rational part of me understands that you couldn’t say a word. But are you fucking kidding me? There are rules, and then there are rules you bend. You knew this secret about my family and about me. And the entire time I had no idea. When you said you had a headache, it wasn’t a headache. It was from knowing you were keeping a secret. It was a lie. I know I should understand that you had no choice, but I don’t know how to do that right now. I don’t know how I feel about any of this.

  Colin: Or how I feel about what’s happening with us.

  I took a deep breath, sucking it in, letting my chest rise and fall on that last one. It was a jagged little knife, chopping at pieces of my heart.

  His words weren’t cruel. They weren’t mean. They weren’t underhanded digs. That was what made my heart ache even more. He’d spoken the bare truth, and I’d known this could happen—that his feelings for me might alter when he learned I’d kept Marcus’s secret.

  Still, it hurt so much that this choice might mean the end of the sweetest thing I’d had in ages. I’d been falling so hard for him.

  Maybe I should take the other half of the pill, to lessen the pain. I reached for the bottle, but it was so far away on the table. I barely had the energy to fumble for it now.

  Soon, my eyes started to flutter closed, and the aching in my thumb subsided. The pain padded away, slinking out of the room, leaving me with only this whitewashing, this smooth, easy feeling in my body.

  But before I slipped into slumber, I tapped out a short response with my left hand.