Page 136 of Sin

“It may solve them.”

“Or make them look worse.”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “I don’t want her harmed by this.”

“That may not be entirely within your control.”

The truth of that lands like a stone. For weeks, I have acted like control was the one thing I still had. In reality, I lost control the first time I looked at Laurel and wanted more than I was allowed to have.

“No,” I say quietly. “But I can stop making it worse.”

“Come in tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.”

“And Sin?”

“Yes?”

“Do not make any dramatic declarations tonight.”

My laugh is short and humorless. “Too late.”

Richard sighs. “Of course it is.”

We end the call. I sit there with the phone in my hand, staring at the dark screen.

Laurel’s name is still there under recent messages. I shouldn’t text her. Richard is right. Owen would agree. Every responsible person in the world would tell me to stay quiet for one night and let the attorney do his job.

I last thirty-seven seconds.

Laurel Cross

Are you awake?

The reply comes almost immediately.

Feverish, not dead.

My chest loosens in a way it has no right to.

How are you feeling?

Like I was hit by a truck driven by germs.

Despite everything, I smile. Then the smile fades. I stare at the message box. I could tell her.

Jenna knows and left.

I called my attorney.

I love you.

The words crowd my throat. I don’t send any of them. I don’t want to tell her like this. Not in a text sent from the house where my wife just left me.

Rest. Drink water. Take the medicine.

Bossy.