Mr. Sin: Book One of the Sin Series

What on earth could they still be talking about? I had Vincent’s dumb coffee ready 20 minutes ago. Then I paced around the kitchen. Then I tried to eavesdrop outside of Vincent’s office door. Tried being the keywork. He must’ve had that room soundproofed because I couldn’t make out a single word that was being said.

With my second cup of coffee in hand, I give up and drop onto the couch. I don’t even have my phone to entertain me, since Vincent is using it to talk to John. About me. About what happened. About my safety.

I groan and drop my head back against the cushion. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. My brother’s overprotective nature was nearly intolerable before all this happened. Now? Now he’s going to be impossible. Between the two of them, I’ll never be allowed to do anything ever again.

Hearing soft foot falls pad through the room, I lift my head in time to see Annie climb onto the couch with me.

“Good morning.” I smile at her, with her bed hair and fuzzy yellow robe. “Sleep well?”

Annie shrugs. Something passes over her face and I’m not sure if she’s still tired or if she wants to say something, so I stay quiet.

When she opens her mouth, I’m not at all prepared. “I’m sorry about what happened to you. Uncle Randal is sick, and he needs help.”

Her words take me so off guard I nearly drop my mug. “Oh, um…” I have no idea what to say. I thought she didn’t know about yesterday.

Answering my unasked question, she shrugs again. “I overhead grandma on the phone with dad before you guys got home. I hadn’t meant to listen, but when I heard grandma say Uncle Randal’s name, I just sort of froze. They never talk about him.” She takes a deep breath. “He tried to take me once.”

I set my drink on the coffee table then turn to face Annie fully. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Do you want to tell me about it?”

Annie gives me another shrug, this one smaller than the others, before she scoots a little closer and recounts the story. It’s the same story Vincent already told me. The facts are the same. But the details are less in Annie’s version, as she jumps through each moment quickly. Her emotions are under control, but hearing it is so much worse this time. It’s so much more heart wrenching coming from a child’s perspective.