Page 3 of Sin (Salvation #1)

Cassidy

Sin stands in the doorway—my savior and my curse.

He blows through the door. “Who in the fuck is in he—?” Sin’s sentence drops off when he sees it’s me standing there.

He takes a small step back like someone who just took a hit, but then, true to his mercurial nature, he recovers quickly.

His gray eyes regard me cooly, over arrogantly high cheekbones, and his full lips turn up into a cruel sneer that I know too well.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” he demands, his voice cutting me with a razor like sharpness.

I try to answer him, but words can’t get past my constricted airways. My hands instinctively clutch around my throat as I fight for breath.

“Shit. Is he having an asthma attack?” Mercer Saint asks from behind Sin, his hand resting familiarly on his shirtless back. “ Want me to call an ambulance?”

“It’ll take too long,” Sin says, his voice smooth and controlled. “Go to my bedroom and pull out the middle drawer. There are several extra boxes of inhalers. Grab one and bring it back here.”

Mercer immediately follows his command and bolts out the door. “Hurry,” Sin yells.

My breathing starts making a high-pitched, reedy sound. Sin stalks over to me, takes me by the shoulders, makes eye contact, and calls my name. A memory of three years ago filters through my panicked mind. Sin had been there through that asthma attack as well.

“Cassidy,” he repeats, but I’m having a hard time focusing on him.

“Cassidy, you bitch, look at me,” he shakes me hard by my shoulders. “You’re not gonna die on my watch, so fucking look at me, and do what I goddamned tell you.”

I fight to understand his words, but I feel like my head is in a jar and every word is a meaningless echo of sound.

“Purse your lips,” he demands.

I try. I want to do as he says so badly. I want to make him happy with me. To be rewarded with one of the easy smiles he used to give me so freely, but the room starts whirling, and I sway on my feet.

“Fuck.” He catches me and pulls us toward my bed, laying me across his lap.

Ripping my Rocky and Bullwinkle t-shirt over my head, he flings it to the floor and lays his hand over my heart, which I can feel beating like a misfiring engine thanks to the lack of oxygen.

He places his other hand on my stomach right under my rib cage.

“Take a deep breath,” he orders.

I can’t even manage to breathe in a whisper of air.

“Goddamnit,” Sin curses. He curls his fingers into a tight fist and punches me hard in the sternum.

Pain explodes in my chest, and I gasp in reaction, rewarding me with a full breath of sweet oxygen.

“That’s right. I fucking knew you could do it,” he says. “Now, take another deep breath or I’ll hit you again, and this one,” he promises fiercely, “I’ll make really hurt.”

Our complicated past has taught me he won’t hesitate to hurt me. My body believes it too. It reacts by taking a slow, faltering breath in reaction to his threat.

“You’re doing good, Cassidy,” he tells me, his praise filling me with a soft, shimmery pleasure. “Now exhale through your mouth nice and slow,” he says, his hand caressing the smooth skin of my stomach as I release each breath. “Now do it again,” he orders.

He has me repeat the breathing exercise four times by the time Mercer comes running back through the door.

“About fucking time,” he bitches, and grabs the inhaler and puts it to my mouth. “Take a deep breath and hold it,” he tells me. I follow his instructions, and within seconds, I begin to breathe more easily.

Afterwards, I stay in his arms as my breathing and heartbeat slowly return to normal.

I have that one-too-many rides on the Tilt-a-Whirl feeling I get after an attack, and instinctively shift my body so I can burrow my head into Sin’s neck.

His hand remains clutched over my heart, while the other one absently runs through my curls.

It's not just our bodies that are connected. There’s that unexplainable sense of belonging I always feel whenever I’m near him. I know it won’t last. That he’ll eventually push me away, but for now, everything else fades around me. In this moment, I am where I most want to be.

Until Mercer ruins it. “It’s a damned good thing you had an extra inhaler,” he says to Sin. “The kid wasn’t looking so good. He coulda died.”

At Mercer’s words, I feel Sin’s entire body tense, and almost instantly, he pulls away from me and jumps up to stand over me, his face drawn tight and his eyes glittering with fury. “Yeah, about that. Why in the fuck didn’t you have your inhaler?”

I wince at the blast of his fury. “I did,” I say weakly, pointing a shaky finger toward the bureau where my small pile of inhalers litters the surface. “None of them worked.”

He stalks over to the bureau and picks up each inhaler and examines it. “You’re right. They’re all empty.” He looks back up at me. “How old are these?”

“Mom sent them to me last week,” I choke out, my voice still reedy and not as full as I’d like it to be.

It doesn’t seem like he’s satisfied with the answer. “Why in the hell are you even here anyway?” he interrogates me. “It’s the start of the semester. You aren’t supposed to be back in Tennessee until after your birthday.”

Surprised he even remembers my birthday, I fill him in on my relocation back to Nashville. “I graduated early from Bellmore, and Gideon wants me to attend college at Thurston.”

His reaction is immediate. His eyes flare with anger, and his lips form into a thin, stubborn line. “That’s not going to happen. There’s no way you’re living here.”

Words from our shared past come back to me. I never wanted a stepbrother, and I never wanted you.

Exhaustion overtakes me, and the idea of explaining to Sin how his father had hijacked my college plans seems like a mountain I’m not ready to climb. I close my eyes and rest back on my pillow for a minute to gather my strength.

“Jesus, Sin, give your brother a break,” Mercer says. “Save the inquisition until he’s feeling better.”

I open my eyes. “Stepbrother,” I growl, pinning a glare at him. I don’t care that he just stuck up for me; the sound of him moaning Sin’s name is still ricocheting around in my head, and I can’t pretend I don’t hate him for that.

Mercer just smirks at my microaggression. “Like I said, your stepbrother has to be tired. He leans in close to Sin and wraps an arm around his bicep. “Why don’t we clear out of his room so he can get some rest, and you and I can get back to what we were doing before he interrupted us.”

The realization hits me that I’m gonna have to watch them walk out of here together, arm in arm. Pain radiates through my chest, but this time it has nothing to do with my asthma.

Sin steps away from Mercer’s grasp. “Nah, man, not feeling it anymore.”

Mercer looks at me and then at Sin. “Shoulda known,” he says with a know-it-all grin. He nods at me. “Feel better, kid.”

I want to growl and bare my teeth in response, but I settle for a scowl, which Mercer just chuckles at and then turns his attention back to Sin.

“See you Monday,” he gives him a funny little salute and walks out of the room.

The sound of his footsteps on the stairwell and the subsequent slamming of the front door is like music to my ears.

My hate for Mercer depleted what little energy I still had, so with my enemy now gone, I collapse back against my pillow.

Sin moves toward me in response, but stops short of the bed where his eyes scan over me, performing a multi-point inspection.

“You still look pale. Do you want me to call a doctor for you?”

I shake my head. The only thing I want right now is something I shouldn’t. He’s standing in front of me, and he’s my stepbrother.

“Well, then, if you don’t need anything, I’m gonna?—”

“Maybe you could stay,” I blurt out. I can’t help myself.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, and I’m greedy for more time with him, a chance to find that easiness that used to exist with us that first summer I came to live here.

I look up at him hopefully. “We could talk, or maybe you could read to me, like you used to.”

His eyes lock with mine at the shared memory.

We had discovered that first summer that both of us were insomniacs.

On nights when neither of us could sleep, we’d gotten into the habit of ending up in each other’s beds while Sin read whatever thriller or horror novel he’d picked up out loud to me until we’d both nod off and finally get some sleep.

I swear I see a softening in Sin’s eyes at the recollection, and for a second, I think he might even say yes, but it must be wishful thinking because instead, he lets out a mean chuckle and pins me with a withering stare.

“It’s Saturday night. I’ve already spent most of it playing nursemaid to you.

Now you want me to act like your nanny and read you a fucking bedtime story too? ”

Hurt, disappointment, and shame collide at his cutting rejection. Since my dad died, I learned not to need too much from anyone. But with Sin, I’ve always been too needy. I crave being close to him, and it always leaves me pushing for more, and him rejecting me.

Is that why he cut me out of his life? Why did he become so cruel and distant? He figured out that I’ll always want too much from him. More than a stepbrother should ever ask for.

“Maybe I’ll go catch up with Mercer and see if he still wants to play.”

I turn away from Sin so he can’t see the pain and jealousy clear on my face.

He must be satisfied that he thoroughly reestablished that he wants nothing to do with me, because he turns and heads toward the door.

Just before he walks out, I hear my voice coming out thin but determined. “Sin,” I call out.

“What?” he demands in an impatient huff.

“Thank you for saving my life.” I pause for a brief second and then add, “Again.”

His only answer is the slamming of the door.