The Sinner's Club [18+]

chapter nineteen.

REAPER LEADS ME out of the club and helps me into his SUV.

We drive in agonizing silence for a few minutes.

"I should've told you," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

The street lights illuminate half his face and I can see him brimming with resentment. "Tell me what happened now. Every single second."

I swallow, twisting my hands in my lap. "I went to take the trash out."

Immediately, his eyes slide closed just as we stop at a red light. "Why would you leave the apartment when I wasn't there?"

"I didn't think! We hadn't seen Anthony since that night and I just thought...I thought maybe he'd given up." A tear slips down my cheek. "He grabbed my hair and pushed me down and told me that I needed to give him thirty thousand or he'd..." I choke back a sob, pressing my knuckles to my mouth. "Reaper, he's going to take El from me."

"No, he isn't." His voice is resolute, so sure.

"He is! He's her father! I should've gone for custody as soon as my mom died, but I was so upset and I wasn't thinking and I didn't have the money for a lawyer–"

"He's not getting near her, Amelia," he cuts in. "We'll take care of it."

We?

I know he's referring to Nathaniel. And I know Reaper cares about me just as he cares about my little sister.

But why would Nathaniel help me out of this bind? He already refused to loan me any additional cash. His only logical motivation is keeping me alive long enough for me to pay him what I owe.

When we get home, Elodie is overjoyed that I'm back early.

Miss Magnolia sets off for her own apartment and I spend the next few hours trying to be cheerful for my little sister.

Reaper puts her to bed for me and I stand outside the door for a while, listening to him read her a story and feeling this horrible, beautiful weight in my chest.

I go into my bedroom before he can come out and find me lurking.

Mentally and physically exhausted, I get into my pajamas and climb into bed, scrolling on my phone for a short while. There are essays and assignments I need to write, deadlines looming, and if I want the payments for them—which I desperately need—then I need to get onto them. But tonight I am too drained.

My door opens and Reaper comes inside. Only my bedside lamp is on, the room dark otherwise.

"Is she asleep?"

He nods, stopping beside my bed.

I pull the covers back, a cavity inside me that aches for his warmth. "Please," I say when he hesitates.

He undresses slowly, keeping his eyes on mine, till he's in nothing but boxers. When he climbs in beside me, the mattress dips beneath his weight. Within a moment, he is carefully pulling me close to him, his hands staying away from my injured side, touching my hip instead.

I feel his mouth against the crown of my head. "I never should've left you," he murmurs. "I should've been here."

"It's not your fault," I protest. "This is my mess."

His hands slide onto my cheeks, calluses rough on his palms, and he tilts my head up. "You're not alone anymore, Amelia," he says. "You don't have to carry this all by yourself."

The heaviness inside of me lifts marginally. The burdens I carry have been mine alone since my mother's death; it is so nice to feel that I have someone else by my side now.