Page 41 of The Sinner’s Desire (The Sinner’s Touch #1)

You don’t have to do this, a voice warns. Why involve her if what you two have won’t last?

It would be a perfectly valid reason not to tell Lilly what we do in our company—especially when it comes to children connected to my past. But right now, I can’t bring myself to deny her at least part of the truth.

“I won’t tell you about my work,” I begin, “and that has nothing to do with treating you like a child. It’s for your protection.”

“Then what are we doing here?” she asks, visibly upset again.

I brought her back to the kitchen because the bedroom isn’t the right place to revisit the memories this conversation will bring. “This is non-negotiable, Lilly. I’ll tell you what I did on my last trip and how it ties directly to my past. But not everything about what Ethan and I do.”

She presses her lips together, clearly wanting to argue, but then she just nods. “Okay.”

I serve her coffee and place the omelet I made in front of her. I pour a cup for myself too, but that’s all—I won’t be able to eat.

“To explain this last trip—and why I went straight to the shower last night—I need to tell you about my past.”

She nods, her delicate fingers gripping the coffee mug tightly.

“Before I begin, answer something for me: have you ever considered that maybe you’re not ready to know everything about me?”

“I’m not fragile. Don’t underestimate me, Amos. I was raised by Nora. No one survives her without some serious inner strength.”

“I never said you were fragile, but that doesn’t mean you have to see the filth of the world.”

“ Filth? ”

I decide to reveal part of the truth. “I’m adopted,” I start slowly. “My last parents were my fifth or sixth family,” I say casually, trying to show that being rejected so many times didn’t matter.

She reaches for my hand across the table, and if it were anyone else, I’d pull back—I don’t accept pity. But her expression doesn’t show an ounce of that. All I see is understanding, so I don’t move.

“I read about that once—people who adopt children and then return them. It’s so awful I don’t even know what to say. I think deciding to bring someone into your home who isn’t your biological child is huge. You can’t take it lightly. I can’t even imagine what it must’ve meant to be sent back.”

“By the last ones, I didn’t expect anything anymore. I already counted on it,” I say, offering as little as possible.

“I can imagine. But you know what?” she says, fiddling with the mug handle. “I think some people just weren’t meant to be parents but insist on it anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a biological child, but that didn’t spare me from a loveless life.” Her counterpoint surprises me.

I’d already guessed Lilly had been neglected growing up. Not because of what Ethan told me but from the clues she’s revealed since we started spending time together.

“Not even when your dad was alive?”

She shakes her head. “No. What I remember is that he and Nora were rarely home. And when they were, it wasn’t at the same time.

Not that it made a difference. I was always invisible to both.

” She sounds resigned, like being overlooked is normal.

“I’m not trying to play the victim, but Ethan was my only real source of love.

I used to wait anxiously for school breaks, but as he got older, he stopped coming home. ”

She takes a sip of coffee.

“Tell me about your last parents,” she asks, shifting the focus. I know she’s doing it on purpose, but I don’t redirect—because I promised her a piece of me.

I dig through my memories. “Mom was the complete opposite of Nora in every way imaginable. She didn’t care at all about appearances.

I remember she always wore light, flowy dresses—usually with a streak of colored hair.

I think they were a bit hippie.” And suddenly, opening that door squeezes my chest with longing.

I don’t usually let the memories surface—I’m a practical man above all. I can’t bring them back, so what’s the point of clinging to a loss that can never be undone?

But Lilly seems to have become an expert in teaching me how to feel again.

“She was a children’s book illustrator and loved spending time with me.

She had endless patience. At first, when they took me in, I wouldn’t speak”—I don’t explain the circumstances of the adoption—”but she never forced me.

Slowly, I started to feel safe enough to relax.

Despite all her kindness, though, I never managed to give her what she deserved. ”

“What do you mean?”

“She was born to be a mother, but she couldn’t have biological kids.

One time, I was upset and said something cruel—I told her she only took me in because she had no other choice, and she didn’t really love me.

All she said was that she was the luckiest person in the world because she got to choose her little boy.

I felt so ashamed that day.” The memory of how often I rejected her love makes me sick.

“Only near the end did I start to grasp what they were offering me. But by then, I didn’t know how little time we had left together. ”

She nods, listening closely, and I can tell she’s trying to form a mental picture of my mom. “And your dad?”

“He was the classic geek. Started a tech company in the garage with four college buddies. They were pioneers and quickly became young millionaires.” I remember it all, still feeling like I don’t deserve the inheritance.

“They died in a car accident on a rainy day. Nothing to blame except bad weather and poor visibility. By the time they died, the company was worth millions.”

“How old were you when they passed?”

“Thirteen and a half. My legal guardian sent me to the same boarding school as Ethan. And the rest of the story you already know.”

“Kind of,” she says. “Because my brother isn’t exactly the most open person. But he said this trip—your most recent one—had something to do with your history. How’s that possible?”

I feel my jaw tighten as a voice inside warns me:

Walk away. There’s no chance this will end well.

She’s not for you.

Why drag this angel into your world of darkness?

But I know that if I stay silent now, I’ll hurt her. So I take the risk.

“One of the families that adopted me—the last one before my real parents . . . They weren’t good people.”

I see the horror on her face. Lilly’s young, but she’s smart—and she senses something terrible in my words. “I don’t know if I understand.”

“Some people would say it wasn’t really an adoption . . . It was a kidnapping.”