Page 16

SIXTEEN

VALENTINE

T he wood of the railing pressed against my forearms as I leaned over my back porch, my gaze resting along the large fence that surrounded the asylum. When I moved here, I’d been unaware of how close my new home was to the asylum, but it was convenient. The asylum wasn’t the only place I preached at. Despite having my business degree and allowing meatheads to run it, I worked at a religious school Monday through Friday from seven in the morning to four in the evening. I just couldn’t bring myself to work at my father’s business. Not yet anyways—not without him there.

It had been six years since he was murdered, and I was still so haunted by it as if it had happened a week ago. There was a part of me that wished I would have sucked it up and gone upstairs to view the damage, but that would have opened an entirely new can of horrors, ones that I’d probably never be able to get out of my mind. So instead, I was left with my imagination.

Father and Lucille would laugh if they could see me now. Preaching at an asylum and working at a Christian school. It was a far cry from the person I used to be back then. Sometimes I missed that life. The only family member I had left was my mom, and we rarely saw eye to eye. If she had it her way, I would have forgiven Jordan for the things he did and welcomed him back with open arms. But she hated my dad. Hated Lucille, too. So, her opinion on the matter was completely biased.

Lifting my mug to my lips, I took a swallow of hot, steaming coffee. The liquid burned my tongue as it made its way down my throat, but it was a comfort, and part of my morning routine.

My backyard stretched out for yards and yards, leading to the back fence of the asylum. On the other side were nothing but trees. There weren’t many houses here, which was good. It gave me solidarity and kept nosey kids away from the psychiatric institution. For some reason that I couldn’t fully comprehend, people were intrigued by the mentally ill.

Casting one final look around my backyard, I grabbed my coffee and drifted back into my home. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I headed toward the kitchen, taking one last drink of my coffee before pouring the rest down the drain. I placed my cup in the sink, grabbed my keys off the island, and made my way out the front door.

The birds chirped in synchronization, calling out to one another in a melodic tune as I headed down the gravel pathway toward my Honda Civic. This had been one of the first things I’d purchased with my father’s will, and the vehicle was still in excellent condition.

My fingertips brushed along the fine, gray polish of the hood as I rounded the car and slipped inside the driver’s seat. Not bothering to buckle, I placed the key into the ignition and twisted. The smooth hum of the engine roared to life, causing the vehicle to vibrate beneath my shoes. Sighing in contempt, my head rested against the seat, my eyes fluttering closed for a moment as I willed myself to move. This life was a lonely one. My days consisted of the same routines. Once a week, I’d visit my mother, and she’d spew the same bullshit about wishing I had it in my heart to forgive my baby cousin. She’d tell me everything happened for a reason, regarding the death of the two people I loved more than anything and their unborn child. She’d try convincing me to take her to the casino since she was broke, and lived off government assistance, therefore, she couldn’t afford to take herself, and then she’d make fun of how I chose to spend my time and where I chose to go to work. Seeing her always left me feeling drained and tempted me to drown the memories of our interactions out with a bottle of the strongest tequila. On the days I didn’t have to go to the asylum, I’d come back home after work, put on a movie, plan out my preachings for the next services, attempt to cook foods I’d never made before, make sure my kitchen was fully stocked, and nap to pass the time.

Sister Vivian, from Holy Revelations Christian School, had made it apparent that she wanted me to go out with her. I’d ignored her advances thus far. My life already consisted of religion inside and out. I’d like to do something that wasn’t tied to anything of the sort, which was precisely why I hadn’t taken her up on her offer, yet. She was young, pretty, and had everything going for her. But with how lonely and mundane my life was, it was hard not to consider.

Blowing out a breath, I put the car in reverse and whipped out of my driveway.

The drive to Brookhaven Psychiatric Institution was short. Once I parked my car and went inside, I checked in up front and grabbed a badge before making my way to my class. Unlocking the door, I flicked on the light and glanced around finding it exactly as I’d left it. You could never be too careful in a place like this.

After my conversation with Rosalie last week, I’d cleared out the storage room and set up her own little office. She seemed so excited to be more involved, and I figured it was the least I could do given that she was stuck in this place with a bunch of lunatics. I pushed open the door to her new office and turned on the light. A desk sat near the back of the room with stationery organized along the polished wood. She wouldn’t get much use out of it on Sundays, but she could help me organize some things after service ended if she wanted.

Pulling the door closed, I made my way to the podium on stage and opened my bible, skimming the newest things I’d highlighted. Today’s sermon was about greed and how jealousy could stem from having less than another.

It didn’t take long for patients to start trickling in. My classes were never very full, so everyone who wanted to come showed up within the first ten minutes of the doors being opened. Once the last person had entered, I instructed them to pull the door closed.

I led everyone into a prayer and then hit the button on the projector for the music to play. As everyone stood and sang along with the lyrics displayed on the wall, I glanced around the room. Not surprisingly, Archer was here again, his eyes pinned on the back of Rosalie’s head where she stood a row in front of him. She’d chosen the seat next to Tyler, the two of them seemingly friends if their back-and-forth conversations and smiles were anything to go by. He wasn’t a bad kid, but he still creeped me the hell out.

After the music ended, I cleared my throat and placed my hands on either side of the opened bible with my mic on and ready to go. I felt like a hypocrite standing up here. I was far from the perfect, Christian man that everyone viewed me as. My heart and mind were tainted by years of trauma, greed, envy, lust, rage, and the need to seek out vengeance. While those things faded over time, they were still there on occasion. It was difficult. Knowing what it felt like to be inside a woman only then to become celibate with nothing but reminders of what it had been like. I was greedy with my time, only going to work and to volunteer at the asylum, and then spending the remainder of my life at home. I might have appeared calm and collected on the outside, but inside, I was filled with rage. When Jordan came into my class last week, taunting me and making a mockery out of the vile things he’d done, it took everything in me not to throw myself at him. I was jealous of people who had normal lives. They had happy families, were in healthy relationships, and were financially set. Their family members didn’t go around murdering people and then laughing in your face about it. Sometimes, I still wanted revenge against Jordan. I wanted to make him suffer as I had.

My hands shook where they rested, regret trickling through my chest at the horrid thoughts consuming my mind. Everyone watched me expectantly, waiting for me to speak, to lead them toward the Lord when I wasn’t so sure I even knew what that meant anymore.

I rambled off one of the scriptures, my heart not in it as much as it normally was—as much as it should have been. They were all listening with rapt attention, like I hung the fucking moon.

God…please forgive me for I have sinned.

Rosalie found me after class like I’d expected her to do. Truthfully, I wanted to turn her away and wallow in my self-loathing. But I knew I’d regret that, too.

“I hung up those brochures,” she said from my doorway.

I angled my head to look at her from where I sat in my lush, leather chair behind my desk. “Do you plan on going to the retreat?” I asked. I’d seen her file. There was no reason she shouldn’t be able to attend. Most of the Dr’s notes boasted about her progress.

She pulled her plump lower lip between her sparkling white teeth as she mulled that over for a moment. She was stunning. I’d noticed it before, but when Jordan came and interrupted, my mind wasn’t exactly on her or her appearance. She wore a red and black plaid skirt today that brushed along the tops of her thighs, paired with black stockings and a matching top. Her long blonde hair fell around her shoulders in waves.

Just seeing her standing there with her lip tugged beneath her teeth, her skirt so short it revealed her tan lines, and the curve of her bust beneath that tight-fitting top, it had me thinking things I shouldn’t be. Her appearance alone made her tempting. She was an Eve. Sent here to corrupt men and convince them to follow her into temptation.

Eve.

It was a fitting nickname.

She finally spoke, her soft voice slicing through my thoughts like butter. “I’d like to.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m just not sure if Dr. Blake will approve it.”

“You’re my assistant,” I reminded her. “That will hold some weight.”

She perked up at that. “Then yes.” She beamed. She seemed more collected than the last time I’d seen her, like a weight had been pulled from her shoulders. “Where is the retreat at? What will we do?”

I motioned for her to have a seat. Unless she had friends she wanted to run off to, there was nowhere else for her to be. I had her schedule, including the art class she’d signed up for which wasn’t for another six days if you counted today.

She let the door close behind her, clearly not realizing that she’d closed us both in this very secluded office. She crossed the room, sinking down in the chair adjacent to me and glanced at me through long, dark lashes expectantly. My heart thudded rapidly against my chest. The last time I’d been completely secluded with a pretty girl, she ended up gagging on my dick while I gave her a ride home from the bar. I had to remind myself that was five years ago and this was a different life now. Plus, Rosalie was a patient here. It was practically forbidden.

“Sir?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

I realized then that I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts, the girl probably thought I was checking her out. Which wasn’t far off, but I’d been zoned out, not even realizing that I’d been staring into her soul.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, shaking my head to rid my thoughts of lust. “The retreat is a weekend long as I mentioned. There are cabins that will be rented out. I’m not sure how many since I don’t have a head count, yet. The purpose of the retreat is to get closer to Christ through nature. It’s like camping.” I paused. “Have you ever been camping, Rosalie?”

A pained smile crossed her face, and her eyes grew distant like she was reliving something painful. Immediately, I regretted asking. “I have,” she admitted. “It was one of my sister’s favorite things to do.”

My chest tightened with her words. She’d accidentally murdered her sister when in a blind rage out of self-defense. It truly was a fucked-up situation.

“I’m sorry,” I replied with uncertainty.

She came here because it was an escape, a way for her to cope with the trauma she’d had thrust upon her. While my question was innocent, it was easy to forget where I was sometimes. Anything could be a trigger for someone. That’s why it was important to refrain from getting too comfortable around the patients. Did I think she’d snap and attack me for it? No. But had I brought up something traumatic for another patient, that was a very real possibility.

“It’s okay.” She forced a smile, the pain still shining back at me through her expressive eyes. “What were you saying?”

Clearing my throat, I attempted to sort through my thoughts. “We’ll do bonfires, hiking, there’s a natural spring in the woods we can swim at, and we’ll talk about God.”

“Swimming?” she repeated, her eyebrows dipping as she mulled that over.

I nodded. “Don’t worry about swimwear. We receive donations and have a lot of that stuff stocked up, since, you know…no one swims here.” For some reason, people send us clothes for the patients and include swimwear, too. Probably just wanting to get rid of things they have no use for anymore.

“Clothes?” she repeated, sucking her lower lip between her teeth again. “Are there any currently available?”

“I’m sure there are. If you want to write down your name, size, and what you need, I can snag some for you.”

Relief washed over her face. What kind of life did she live that had her so excited over some second-hand clothes? Part of me wanted to ask, but I knew it wasn’t any of my business. I reached over and grabbed a small package of sticky notes, ripping one from the rest and placed it in front of her with a pen.

She was silent as she wrote down the information, her blonde hair tumbling in front of her shoulders. When she was finished, she pushed it over to me, but I made no move to grab it or to even look at it just yet. If she wrote down her breast size for bras, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hide the effect it would undoubtedly have on me. It was hard enough now just to keep from looking at her chest. Guilt pulsed through me at the unwanted thoughts. She came here because she trusted me, and I was acting like a hormonal teenage boy.

“Are you only here on Wednesdays and Sundays?” she asked.

Surprise flickered through me at the unexpected question. “Yes, why?”

She shook her head and glanced away, breaking eye-contact. “Never mind.” I was learning rather quickly, that was a nervous tick of hers. She always looked away when she was afraid to ask something or was afraid of a conversation in general.

“This is a safe space, Rosalie. You’re welcome to tell me anything. Unless of course, it’s homicidal or suicidal.”

A laugh bubbled up from her throat, sending sparks of electricity right through me. Her laugh was even sexier than her voice. “Nothing like that,” she confirmed, bringing her attention back to me. “I just like being here.” She shrugged. “It pulls me away from reality, from what happened, and helps me forget.”

My throat tightened, and it was my turn to glance away as I mulled over what she’d just confessed. It was one thing to speculate and assume that’s what she felt, but it was another for her to tell me to my face. How could I continue to be selfish when she was being open with me? It felt wrong. Inhumane.

It couldn’t hurt to spare a little more of my time, could it? It wasn’t like I had anything going on at home. Dr. Theodore wouldn’t care. He enjoyed having me around for whatever reason. Probably because my presence distracted people from what he was truly doing behind his door of horrors. Not that I actually knew what he was doing in there, but the screams were haunting. His methods were on the traditional side, that much I was sure of.

Sighing, I glanced back over at the girl across from me. Friday, she had art. Her free days were Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. But she’d probably like having Saturday to herself since it was the only day she could sleep in and didn’t have to worry about group therapy.

“How does Tuesday sound?” I suggested. “I can come in after you’ve had dinner.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no. You don’t have to do that. It’s nice of you to offer, but?—”

“I don’t mind. I’m free for the majority of that day, and I’m not taking no for an answer.” I realize how that sounded, but I only worded it that way because it’s what she really wanted. She’d backpedal out of this out of guilt if I let her, and that wasn’t happening.

Her shoulders dropped a fraction as tension rolled from her muscles. Relief sparkled within her blue eyes, and it had me taking a step back mentally. She liked having the choice taken from her…interesting. Did that extend to other aspects of her life? Like sex?—

No.

I couldn’t allow myself to think about that.

Shit. Was this a good idea? I was already having dishonorable thoughts about her. How would being trapped in a room with her for hours feel if I couldn’t even handle thirty minutes? It was too late to withdraw my offer, and frankly, I didn’t want to.

“That sounds good to me. Thank you, Valentine.”

My heart rate accelerated at the sound of my name on her lips. She placed her hands on my desk and pushed up, bringing herself to her feet. She turned her back on me and strode out of my office, letting the door shut behind her.

Trying to calm my racing heart, I glanced down at the sticky note, my eyes skimming over her neat handwriting.

Fuck.

32D.