Page 28 of House of Sin
Next came Elona, who swirled her whiskey like it might help her find the words. “You never let us drown,” she said simply. “Even when you can’t change the ending, you’re still there. You show up."
Maeve leaned across the table toward Emil, her elbows knocking silverware aside. “You make me feel safe,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I think my fairy guardian angel must’ve sent you, because he knew I needed someone like you, someone kind. Someone who’d love me. Who’d remind me of my worth,reallyremind me, like a father should’ve. Like mine never did.” She gave a small shrug. “You make me feel loved.” Emil met her gaze across the table, a vulnerability passing between them before he broke eye contact, looking down at the worn wood beneath his hands.
I hesitated, then looked him in the eyes. “You see the best in broken things,” I said, “in broken people. In all of us. Even when we forget the good is there.”
Nell was last, her voice tender. “You love without asking for anything back. And somehow, you still think that’s not enough.”
The silence that followed was different now, heavier, but not uncomfortable. The kind of silence that stays with you, that invites reflection instead of retreat, and no one rushed to respond. Her words had found their mark, not just in Emil, but in each of us.You could feel it in the way no one looked away, the way breath was held just a moment longer than usual.
Then all eyes turned to Emil expectantly.
He cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck again. “This is ... weird,” he said, earning a few soft laughs. He stared at the table for a long moment. Then, finally, quietly, he said, “I think ... I like that I don’t give up. Even when I want to.”
His words were fragile and real. And somehow, that small confession cracked open an understanding in each of us, a recognition that he finally let us see what it cost him to carryeveryone else.
16
HELP ME, I’M A WHORE
THEN
The past few months had stripped everything down to nerve and instinct. I felt like I was on a knife’s edge, with every step needing to be exact. As the wind began to pick up, I pulled my coat tighter, the rough wool scratching my neck, and pressed forward. My boots clacked against frozen cobblestones, therhythm steady, betraying none of the storm brewing inside me. The town was stirring around me, the creaking wheels, traces of far-off laughter, and the low hum of early risers. And then there were the eyes, seen and unseen, watching and judging. Pretending not to see me while seeing everything. But today, I didn’t have time to shrink under the whispers.
Emil and Nell’s place sat at the edge of town, smoke rising from the chimney as the smell of fresh bread carried through the cold air. My stomach tightened at it; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a decent meal. I knocked once, the sound almost harsh in the stillness, and the door opened almost immediately. Nell stood in the doorway, her apron dusted with flour, dark eyes taking me in. There was no judgment in her expression, only a calm patience that made it harder to pretend I was fine.
“Bernadette,” she said gently, “you’re freezing. Get in here before you catch your death.”
I stepped inside, letting the warmth wrap around me. It smelled like cinnamon and home, and for a moment, it was Sunday morning all over again. Ray humming off-key, John’s laughter spilling from thekitchen, and the ache of their absence folded itself quietly into the comfort.
“I’m not staying long,” I said. “I need to talk to you. Both of you.”
Nell closed the door behind me and placed a hand lightly on my arm. “We’ve always got time for you, sweetheart.” Her touch was brief, but it steadied me more than I wanted to admit. She gestured to the kitchen. “Emil’s just finishing breakfast. Come, sit. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I haven’t,” I admitted as I followed her into the cozy living room.
Emil entered a moment later, wiping his hands on a towel, his boots thudding against the wooden floor. His face was its usual unreadable canvas, but his eyes softened when they found me. He crossed the room without a word, the towel still in his hands, and came to stand beside Nell, the two of them a matched set, weathered but unyielding. “What’s going on?” He asked with no preamble.
I didn’t waste time. “It’s The Oily Cat.”
Emil exchanged a glance with Nell, something unspoken passing between them.
“I need help,” I admitted. “Emil, I want you at the door. I need someone who can hold the line when things go bad. And they will, you know they will.” Emil didn’t respond immediately. He studied me, arms crossed, weighing things the way he always did, quietly and thoroughly.
Nell looked at me with a tenderness she didn’t try to hide. “They’ve been pushing you harder lately, haven’t they?”
I nodded. “They want the place gone. They wantmegone. But it’s more than that, they don’t like that I gave the girls somewhere to go, somewhere safe.”
Nell pressed her lips into a hard line, holding back the words she wanted to say. She stepped closer, tenderly brushing a stray curl from my forehead, looking at me with a protective sadness. “I figured you were building something bigger than they understood,” she said, “and you don’t strike me as the kind of person that backs down.”
My throat tightened, but I didn’t look away. “I’m not backing down, I’m asking for backup.”
Emil finally spoke. “You sure this is the best way to fight them? It’s not just bar fights you’re dealing with, it’s politics. It’s names with money behind them.”
I met his gaze evenly. “I’m not asking you to fix it, I’m asking you to keep the walls standing while I do.” His face softened. Then I added, quieter, “You saved my life, Emil. That night ... you didn’t hesitate. You didn’t ask what it would cost, and I haven’t forgotten that.”
“I remember,” he said, and I saw it, the brief flash of pain he usually kept buried. The consequences of the choices they’d both made, and how this town had repaid them for it. I looked at Nell. “You both know what it’s like to be pushed out, to be told you’re not worth the trouble.”
She shook her head slowly. “You’re worth all the trouble, Bernadette, always have been.”
