How Sinners Fight

by Eva Ashwood

  The joint slips from between my fingers, dropping onto that pretty elite rooftop garden below us, but I don’t give a shit. Not when Declan’s fingers are sliding through my hair, pulling me closer. Not when he kisses me so deeply that I feel like I’m falling.

  When we finally break apart, a small laugh escapes his lips, his exhale ghosting over my skin as his thumbs brush over my cheekbones.

  “I’m glad you came here, Soph. To Hawthorne.” His voice is raw and vulnerable, so full of honesty that it makes my heart stutter. He’s not trying to hide anything, not trying to lie to himself or me about the way this is making him feel. “I’m glad as hell I met you.”

  Little flecks of lighter shades in his dark brown eyes gleam in the light as the sun filters down on us. My whole body feels like it’s buzzing, like I’m floating somewhere happy, safe.

  “Me too.”

  With that quiet admission, I pull away from him and rest my head on his shoulder, the woodsy, warm scent that I’ve come to associate only with Declan still lingering in my nostrils.

  I’ve been alone for so long that it’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that I have four people, Max and the guys, who seem to feel something for me other than disgust or hate.

  All my life, I’ve never known what it was like to be cared for, and now…

  Don’t get used to it, I tell myself. Nothing lasts forever.

  4

  “Pack your bags, bitch. You’re getting out.”

  I laugh at Max’s dramatic declaration as she swings my door wide open. I had a restless night last night, waking up twice from dreams I couldn’t remember. After the second one, I fell back to sleep replaying my moment with Declan on the roof, and no more nightmares disturbed me.

  “Thank fuck,” I mutter, and now it’s Max’s turn to laugh.

  Unfortunately, I have to go through a few more ridiculous health checks, as if the doctors are afraid I’ve suddenly grown a tumor overnight or something. I put up with them and go along with everything Doctor Cohen asks of me to get it over with as quickly as possible.

  Stepping through the sliding glass doors feels amazing, and even though I’m still walking with a slight limp, I start to make a beeline toward Max’s beat-up old car the second I spot it in the parking lot.

  “Uh, no. Not that way.”

  To my surprise, she steers us away from the car and into another section of the parking lot. Maybe it’s just the stir-craziness that’s been keeping me on high alert, but my heart jumps into my throat at the sudden change in direction. I’m ready to get home.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, leaning on her a little. My ankle is mostly better, but everything is still sore. I have a feeling it’s going to be like that until I get back into my own bed and get a solid three days’ worth of sleep. “Your car’s back there.”

  She glances at me, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah, but the guys are this way.”

  Sure enough, when I look up, I catch sight of all three of the Sinners lounging against a car that’s much nicer than Max’s.

  “They wouldn’t let me drive you,” she explains. “Gray seems to think my car is a death trap just because it’s not a luxury model. It’s a beater, but it still fucking runs.” She rolls her eyes. “So since I won’t get to do that part, I got to be the one to help you check out of the hospital. Fair’s fair.”

  There’s something in the way that she says it that makes me think there was definitely a little bit of an argument about who gets to do what, and I try not to laugh thinking about Max going up against the Sinners. They’re lucky they still have their balls.

  “Hey, Blue,” Elias says with a flirtatious grin as Max and I near the car. “Good to see you out of that room.”

  “Good to be out of that room,” I say flatly. “Don’t ever let me fall down another flight of stairs again.”

  It’s meant as a joke, but I don’t miss the way Gray’s eyes darken or the way Declan bristles. Even Elias drops the flirty smile. No one finds what happened to me particularly funny, especially since we don’t know for sure if it was an accident or if it was done on purpose. I’ve got a lot of enemies at Hawthorne—not because I came to the school looking for a fight, but because some of the students are spoiled, entitled assholes who couldn’t seem to handle the concept of just letting me live my life.

  I once thought Gray was one of those people, until I found out about his sister’s death. It doesn’t excuse any of the shit he put me through, but at least it gives his actions some context. Grief makes people do some fucked up things.

  “It won’t happen again,” Gray mutters, his expression hardening for a moment before smoothing out. “And to answer your question, we decided it would be best if you stayed at my place for the rest of winter break.” He gestures to the other Sinners. “None of us will be staying on campus, and we want to make sure someone can keep an eye on you until you’re back at one hundred percent.”

  “Which will be soon,” Elias adds, his eternal optimism shining through.

  “My parents aren’t home,” Gray continues. “My dad is on a business trip in Hong Kong, and my mom went with him. They’ll be gone for the next two weeks.”

  It strikes me as a little sad that his parents just left him alone for the holidays. Not that I’ve ever had family to spend Christmas or Thanksgiving or any holidays with, but I’m a foster kid with a shitty past. I sort of assumed that kids who grew up with luxury and privilege would have families who cared about them and spent time with them, but that’s obviously not always the case.

  “What about my stuff?” I ask, still trying to process what this actually means.

  Winter break with Gray? At his house?

  I’ve already spent a week of our break in the hospital, but there’s over a week left before classes start back up for spring semester.

  When I meet his gaze, my stomach flutters a little bit.

  An entire week with Gray. In his house. No school or other things to distract us.

  “I packed up a bag for you.” Max pipes up, bringing me back to the present. “It’s already in the back of Gray’s car, and if you need anything, we can go to the school together and get it. I don’t think you will though, I got basically everything I see you with on a daily basis.”

  I find myself agreeing with the plan, even though it’s the last thing I expected. All I really planned on doing was going back home to my dorm and hunkering down for the next week with my paints and my thoughts, not spending the holidays with Gray.

  It doesn’t fully sink in that this is really happening until I’m saying my goodbyes to Max and promising to text her once I’m settled in. She’s the only one who is staying on campus over the holiday, and she’s already made it clear that she’ll be coming over to Gray’s place often to check up on me.

  Elias pulls me into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of my head and squeezing me gently. Then Declan draws me into his arms too, flicking a glance at Gray as if daring him to say anything. He doesn’t though, just watches us with an unreadable expression as he leans against his car, arms crossed and keys dangling from his fingers.

  “Thanks for showing me that spot on the roof,” I murmur to Declan. I look over at the large hospital building as we pull apart. “It was my favorite part of being here.”

  “Of course, Soph. Anytime.” He grins, reaching up to slide his fingers through a few strands of my blue and blonde hair. His gaze softens a little, and I think for a moment that he might kiss me like he did back on the roof, in front of Gray and Elias and Max as if it’s a totally normal thing to do. And even more surprising is the realization that I want him to. Not to piss Gray or Elias off, not to make anyone jealous.

  But just because it feels right.

  I can see him considering it, see how much he wants it too. In the end, he just presses a kiss to my forehead, gently tugging on the strands of my hair that are wrapped around his fingers. But even that feels significant somehow.

  Like he’s claiming a piece of me, m
aking sure everyone here knows.

  Gray makes a noise in his throat as Declan and I separate. His gaze flicks between the two of us and then to Elias before settling back on me. “You ready?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “All right. Let’s go. I don’t want you on your feet too long.”

  Ignoring the implications of that, I step back as Gray opens the passenger door for me. I climb inside the car while he walks around to the driver’s side.

  After sliding into the plush leather seat behind the wheel, Gray reaches over me for my seatbelt, his chest brushing against my shoulder. Grabbing the buckle, he snaps it into place. His fingers linger against my thigh before he pulls away.

  “You know I could’ve done that,” I say mildly, our gazes colliding. “Didn’t hurt my hands.”

  “Thank goodness.” His lips twitch, and I almost think there’s a hint of amusement beneath his voice, but his expression stays serious.

  Max waves goodbye before heading back across the parking lot to her car, and I see Declan and Elias start walking toward a car that I’m pretty sure belongs to Elias. Gray pulls out onto the street, navigating with confidence as he heads away from the hospital.

  He doesn’t say anything for a while, and neither do I. Music plays softly from the speakers, and the silence between us makes an intense sort of anticipation slowly churn in my stomach.

  Gray and I have always been explosive. Whether they’re good or bad, the feelings between us have never been tame. Never been gentle. When we come together, it’s like a lit match to gasoline, and I know this little arrangement for winter break isn’t going to change that.

  “Are you okay?” I ask suddenly, breaking the silence.

  The question hangs between us for a few tense seconds before he glances over, dragging his gaze away from the road for just a second to say, “I should be asking you that. Are you okay?”

  It’s a non-answer on his part, but I don’t push. Instead, I blow out a breath, glancing out the passenger side window. “I’ll be fine. If I could just remember what the fuck happened that night, I think I might be great.”

  I try to say it lightly, but he must be able to hear the weight of the words anyway. He nods, focusing his gaze back on the highway, and I catch the way his jaw clenches. His shoulders look tight, his whole body a little tense—like there’s a storm brewing inside him.

  This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed the tension in him since I woke up. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, what personal demons he’s battling, but I wish he’d tell me.

  The rest of the drive is quiet. I can’t think of anything to say, and just like Declan, Gray doesn’t try to fill the silence with small talk. If Elias was here, I have a feeling he’d be flirting up a storm, trying to keep things light, but that’s just his personality.

  When Gray turns onto a private driveway, I perk up a little, realizing we’ve reached our destination. The long driveway is paved with brick and guarded with a high gate that Gray opens by pressing a button that’s been added to his car.

  After pulling to a stop in front of the sleek, modern looking mansion, Gray shuts the engine off and goes around to the trunk, pulling my bag out for me. I don’t wait for him to open up the passenger door, slipping out while he’s busy with my bag and looking up at the massive house. I’ve been here once before, when Max and I crashed his party and I stripped in the living room. But it somehow looks even bigger and more impressive in the light of day.

  He leads me up the wide stairs to the front door, then unlocks it and lets me in. Our footsteps echo a little as we step into the stylishly minimal foyer of white stone and marble. As I watch him kick off his shoes in a familiar way that seems out of place in a house like this, it finally hits me—

  This is Gray’s reality.

  This is his house. This is where he grew up.

  Just like I became familiar with Brody McAlister’s shitty place and wandering hands, this is where Gray’s entire life exists. This wealth is what he eats, sleeps, breathes. Everything. This is the only home he’s ever known. It’s the world he’ll continue to be a part of for the rest of his life. One day, he’ll inherit all of this.

  And where will I be? What will I do?

  I’m not even fucking sure.

  “Damn,” I tease, following him deeper into the house, “where’s the butler? This shit is real, how many servants do you have?”

  Even though I’m joking, Gray’s face hardens a little. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he mutters under his breath, leading me through a living room that looks like it’s never been used. “Trust me.”

  I bite my lip. I’m not sure exactly what his comment alludes to, but I get what he’s saying. Reality isn’t as sweet as the outside looks, which I guess is true whether you’re rich or poor.

  But damn, I think, if I had all of this, I’d find it real hard to get pissed about anything.

  “Like I said, my parents aren’t here,” he adds. “They're not going to be here for the rest of winter break, so it’ll just be you and me.”

  We finally stop in a room that looks a little more lived in—it’s a bit less stuffy and more inviting. I could picture chilling in here with the guys, talking or messing around or some shit, and not worrying about breaking something valuable like I would in the other rooms I’ve seen.

  I glance up at Gray. Despite my earlier joke about servants, I have a sudden strong suspicion that we’re the only two people in this house.

  Worry still lingers in his eyes, but I catch a hint of heat simmering there too, contained and controlled in true Gray fashion. Vaguely, I wonder how long it will be before we end up with our clothes scattered on the floor around us, our sweaty bodies wrapped around each other.

  Clearing my throat, I drop his gaze as I look around the room again, my attention snagging on a framed picture of a pretty girl, maybe fifteen or so.

  I don’t have to work hard to guess who it must be.

  Beth.

  “She looks like you,” I murmur, picking up the picture from the side table to look at it closer.

  They’re not identical twins, but the resemblance is clear. Even if I hadn’t spent as much time with Gray as I have, I’d know they were brother and sister in an instant.

  “I wish I could’ve met her.”

  The words come out before I have a chance to stop them. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true.

  Gray takes the picture from my hands. Raw grief flickers like an open wound over his face, his swallow catching in his throat. I watch as he tries to push it away, tries to stifle it—and he does, just barely. It still haunts the depths of his eyes, and his pain hits me like a blow to my chest.

  “She was one of my favorite people,” he says, his voice a little hoarse as he sets the picture back down. “I’m a fucking asshole.” He laughs humorlessly, glancing at me. “You know that as well as anyone. But Beth made me better. She made me want to be better. I don’t like a lot of people, but she was the best. The absolute best.”

  My heart twists in my chest.

  You’re not alone.

  I understand.

  How many times have I wanted someone to tell me that? How many times have I wanted someone to be there for me? How many times in the past couple months since I’ve known him has Gray been there for me?

  After Caitlin and her cadre of bitches tried to fuck with me, after Cliff tried to rape me. After my drawings were torn apart, just like my soul.

  I don’t think, I just act. Without hesitation or thought, I grasp Gray’s chin gently and guide his face to mine, standing on my tiptoes as I press my lips to his. Maybe it’s insane to even try, but I want to kiss away all the pain and hurt I see inside of him. Just put a band-aid on it for a little while, just numb it for the time being.

  “I don’t think you're as big of an asshole as you think you are,” I murmur, my voice low.

  His eyes are stormy, as if he’s still battling with himself. But his grip tightens o
n my hips as he tugs me closer. His nose skims the line of my neck as he drops his head, wrapping his arms around me.

  I can feel him sigh, as if just that small gesture has brought him a little bit of peace. His soft murmur brushes my ear.

  “I hope you’re right, Sparrow.”

  5

  Max wasn’t kidding about inviting herself over to Gray’s place. Over the next several days, she comes to visit me often. Elias and Declan come too, when they can.

  Max’s family is back in Boston and she won’t be able to go home to visit them, but Elias and Declan have some family “obligations” around the holidays. I don’t quite know what that means, but from the way their eyes roll when they mention it, I’m guessing it’s not anything fun.

  From what Gray has said, it’ll be a lot of schmoozing with work friends of their parents, attending holiday parties that are more about business networking than anything else, and generally having to keep up appearances and uphold the family name. It sounds pretty fucking awful, which explains why Gray doesn’t seem all that upset that his parents took off and left him on his own.

  With them gone, he’s free to do whatever he wants—even if what he wants to do is take care of a girl from the wrong side of the tracks who’s recovering from a head injury.

  Unfortunately, despite the progress I’m making in my recovery, the memories of that night at the party still haven’t returned.

  I’ve stopped trying to force it. If they come back, they come back. If they don’t, they don’t. All I know is that some freshman girl found me at the base of the stairs in the basement, and even though it pisses me off to feel like there’s something I’m still missing, letting myself brood over it is pointless and frustrating.

  So instead, I’ve been sketching. I don’t have my paints with me—those are still back at the school—but it’s been nice to get something out of my head and onto paper. It doesn’t matter how it’s getting out, just that the thoughts and shapes and colors are flowing out of my head, heart, and hands.