Page 11
Story: Lust (Seven Deadly Sins #2)
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SYDNEY
W ith a pounding heart, a heaving chest and sweat coating my back, I check over my shoulder again to be sure Blake hasn’t followed me then slow to a walk as I turn down the road to Pa’s house. I’m a hot mess and can’t let Pa see me like this.
Pausing, I rest against the fence of a house that burnt down a few months back and take a few deep breaths. A litany of bible verses delivered by my reverend father play like a reel in my head as it scrambles to make sense of what just happened. How I allowed myself to be tempted so easily and give into my lustful thoughts.
I don’t need to think about why I liked it so much. It is the very nature of temptation to be enjoyable, to draw you in, to be almost addictive. So much so, you would abandon everything you’ve been taught and believe to be true. My biggest concern right now is ensuring Pa doesn’t find out—the man is creepily accurate at reading me—and avoiding a situation that could lead to a repeat.
I force myself upright, shoving all thoughts of Blake deep down, straighten my clothes and run my fingers through my hair and force myself to believe that everything will be okay. I’ll go and see Pa, we’ll chat and he’ll tell me all about his weekend away. Then tonight, when I get home, I’ll bathe before asking God for absolution for my transgressions.
Yes, that’s it. That’s all I need to do. Everything will be fine. I’ll avoid Blake and Roman, focus on my work and allow God to show me the way.
Feeling confident and sure I have it all under control, I walk the rest of the way to Pa’s and knock on the door.
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I hear Pa’s footsteps coming down the hall to the front door. The smile I so successfully plastered on my face is wiped away the second Pa opens the door and I see the bruise on the side of his face.
“Oh gosh, Pa. What happened? Are you okay?” I demand as I step inside, scanning the rest of him and noticing the bandage covering his hand.
“It’s fine, Sydney. Don’t make a fuss.”
“But, Pa?—”
“It was a small accident. That is all. Nothing for you to worry about,” he says cutting me off sharply, turning and striding back down the hall.
I close the door, taking my shoes off quickly and follow him. “As long as you’re okay. How did it even happen,” I press, stepping into the kitchen.
He sets cups out and switches the kettle on. “I tripped as I was leaving the hotel. And before you ask, I got checked out at the hospital. Nothing broken, just some bruises and a sprained wrist.”
I nod as he picks up the kettle and fills the cups. “Getting clumsy in your old age, Pa,” I joke.
Ignoring my jesting, he says, “How was Reverend Stone?”
I suck in a breath at the mention of Roman’s name and avoid Pa’s gaze as he brings the tea over. “Fine. He’s fine,” I say a little too quickly, and realising it sounds like I’m saying he’s fine , which he is, I try again. “Er, he got on well,” I stutter, finally looking up at Pa.
He’s watching me with an assessing gaze. “Yes, a few parishioners I spoke to yesterday enjoyed his service.”
I hum, fearing opening my mouth will only lead to more suspicion, and instead pick up my cup. It’s burning hot, but I need something to keep me focused.
“I’m considering asking him to stay on and take over a few duties.”
I cough and splutter, choking on my mouthful of hot tea. “Sorry,” I say, wiping a hand across my mouth. “Went down the wrong way,” I add before asking why.
“Well, as you so subtly pointed out, I’m not getting any younger and perhaps it’s time I began preparing someone to takeover.”
I baulk at the idea of having Roman around long term. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Pa. I was only joking about you being old. I can help out more.” I internally wince at the idea of spending more time at the church, and that alone is cause for concern. Shouldn’t I want to spend time with God? Especially as I seem to need reminding about living life free from sin.
“I’ve made peace with you making your own way in life outside the church, Sydney. I might not like some of your choices, particularly your choice of work, but overall, I’m proud of the woman you’ve become.”
I almost choke again, this time on the emotional lump that formed in my throat at his words. I dip my head to hide the tears I know have welled in my eyes.
“Besides, it’s not about needing extra help. I love my work, which is why I would like to spend more time travelling around the country spreading God’s word.”
I’m not surprised as we’ve moved around quite a lot over the years. When I question him about it, he explains that another reverend has asked him to be part of a programme to help spread God’s love to those who need it the most.
While Pa takes a call in his office, I take the time to wash our cups and put them away. I’m tidying a pile of paperwork on the counter when a receipt catches my eye.
Pulling it free from the rest, I lay it on top to read. It’s from Green’s Guest House in Oxford. Scanning the page, I see it was for a stay this past weekend. Strange. I’m sure Pa said his meeting was in Surrey not Oxford.
Footsteps echo down the hall as Pa returns, and I quickly slot the receipt beneath some others, straightening them and placing them neatly on the side a second before he enters.
“Sorry about that. Are you going to stay for dinner?” he asks.
“Actually, I need to get going.” I begin walking toward the hall but pause and turn back to Pa. “Did you manage to visit our old church while you were away?”
“No, not this time. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. I just wondered because you know how much I loved it there.” He nods and I leave as quickly as possible.
Pa just lied to me. I can’t believe it.
It wasn’t a small lie or a slip up. No, this was an outright, blatant lie. Why? Why would he lie about where he was? And if he lied about that, what else has he lied about?
I make it to the end of the road before I turn back around ready to go back and confront him but stop when a man I’ve never seen before walks up the front path. He’s wearing dark clothing, maybe jeans, and a baseball cap. It reminds me of the first time I met Roman, but this man is shorter and not so muscular.
He knocks on the door, then his head swivels in my direction, and I duck round the corner out of sight. By the time I risk a peek, I only catch a glimpse of his jacket as he disappears inside with Pa.
I head home in a daze, paying no mind to the direction I’m going in. I’ve always trusted Pa, never had a reason not to. But lately something has felt different. Thinking about it now, I’ve noticed a change in him over the last few years. Nothing I can really put my finger on, but there’s something.
It’s a miracle I make it home and not the other side of town considering how distracted I’ve been. I walk up the path to my front door feeling sideswiped, like I’ve been hit with a wrecking ball.
I forgo the bath I was so sure I was going to have, skip dinner—certain my stomach couldn’t handle anything anyway—and for the first time since I was a child, I don’t get on my knees and pray. Instead, I go to bed, curl up in a ball and cry.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11 (Reading here)
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46