Page 3 of Sick Little Devotion

And that’s the real reason my stepfather hates me now. His brother is his best friend, and he puts that creep on a pedestal, protecting him from everything.

Eliza tugs at my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay, Sara?”

The nickname draws me out of my thoughts, and I nod. “Of course, I am. It was just such a traumatic moment.”

Eliza gives me a puzzled look, but before she can say anything, I notice my stepfather, standing outside of the shop. He’s speaking with the cops, who have yet to come inside. My stomach tightens at the sight of his six-foot-two frame, dressed in his usual cargo pants and flannel shirt. He’s broad and heavily built—in an overweight kind of way. He’s bald, and these days, most of his hair grows on his face.

“It’ll be okay,” I breathe out, watching as he folds his arms across his chest.

“We didn’t do anything wrong…” Eliza’s already coming to terms with what happened and the consequences we might both face, just for the strangers’ mistakes.

“We didn’t.” I reach down and grab her hand as the tears spill over her cheeks. Eliza is too soft to be stuck in this shithole. She’s delicate, with her heart the size of the moon and her blonde hair in a bun on the top of her head. Her sisters are equally as timid and sweet—they’re the reason I stay. To protect them from Ron and from our stepfather, Will. I pull her into me and hold her, as the men make their way inside.

It could be worse.

But I don’t know how it could be worse. I haven’t known how anything could be worse since my heart was shattered by the one fucking person that promised me the world. I should’ve gotten over it by now, but Aiden is the reason that I’m hated in my own house. Will didn’t hate me until that night Aiden did what he did…

And then that fucker had the nerve to disappear.

I meet my stepfather’s eyes with courage and squeeze Eliza a little tighter. His beady irises are hard to read, but the tick of his upper lip tells me all I need to know. It’s going to be a bad night.

For everyone.

Chapter Two

AIDEN

God, she’s more beautiful than ever. I try to breathe normally as I stand there, casting a shadow across her bedroom window. The whole house is sound asleep, and while I abhor the fucking memories associated with this place, I still can’t bring myself to hate Sahara— my Sara. I gave her that nickname, because when we first met, Sahara just seemed like too much of a mouthful.

I let out a chuckle, shaking my head. I had no fucking clue what I was getting myself into. I thought this house would be the answer to all my problems. I thought I’d be the foster kid that finally got adopted. But no…

No, that was the end of my foster days and the beginning of my path to fuckery and misery. But it was fine in the end. I’ve made it now, and because of that, it’s time for me to do what I promised I would so long ago.

I’m back, Sara. I’m back.

I fumble with the screen of the window, careful not to make too much noise. The Walker family lives in an upscale neighborhood, and I think the community assumes they are some sort of picture-perfect family.

Minus the fucked-up uncle in the pool house.

My fists clench as I toss the screen onto the grass behind me. I take a deep breath, using the sight of Sara sleeping soundly in her bed as a distraction. In truth, I hate myself for what happened—and I’m pissed that she’s still in this house with him. I don’t know why she didn’t leave. When I came back seven years after the incident and saw that she was still here, I couldn’t comprehend it.

She’s twenty-four fucking years old, and she’s still living in her childhood home. Why? She should’ve gone to school, got a job, left, and never looked back. I expected to be chasing her in another state… I never thought I would be coming right back to the place that was the beginning of the end for me. However, I’ll admit the moment I saw the three new little girls here, I had a good idea of why Sara was still here—and I hate that she’s sacrificing her own happiness for their sake.

Well, that and the fact that William Walker will probably just continue to bring in young girls, all in the name of satisfying his brother while keeping Sara around as cheap fucking labor. My palms sweat with irritation as I jiggle the window. I’m going to get her out of here. She’ll have no choice.

I hear the locking mechanism click open, and I sigh with relief as I push the window up easily. Sara doesn’t move from where she’s sleeping, although I wish she knew I was here. I wish she’d wake up. I’d clamp my hand over her mouth and force her to submit. Then I’d do what I had been fucking dying to do all those years ago. I promised myself to her, and I haven’t changed.

But she might have.

Taking a deep breath of her familiar lavender scent, I creep into the room, moving as stealthily as a panther, carefully easing over the top of her desk. I shouldn’t be breaking in. I should be doing this the right way—maybe showing up to the diner where she works and asking her to an actual dinner…

But I couldn’t bear to run into fucking Will or Ronny. At least at night, I can slink around this place unseen. But fuck. I want to touch her.

My mouth salivates as my gaze pours over her figure, the covers concealing the perfect body I know lies beneath. I haven’t touched another woman since I touched her—and I never got to touch her the way I wanted.

A heavy breath slips from Sara’s lips as she rolls onto her side, facing away from me. I quietly slip up to the edge of her queen-sized bed, and my fingers grip the worn-out quilt. Her room hasn’t been updated in the slightest. It still looks exactly the same as it did when she was seventeen. I have laid in this bed with her so many nights.

The blast from the past nearly forces me to my knees, as I think about breaking the rules with her. I did it at first to keep her safe from Ron, who’d come to check her doorknob at night, but then, on the nights when Ron was out of town, I found myself still lying there beside Sara, craving her and wanting her to touch me.