Page 26 of Secret Sins

After I'd laid my sins at her feet, every last secret exposed, Bailey still didn't see me as a monster? "Did you hear everything I just said?"

Shifting until she no longer touched me, Bailey sat up and looked me in the eyes. "Yes, I heard you."

"Every sordid detail?" Why was it so hard for me to grasp? I already knew she was an incredible woman.

"I understand you weren't perfect, Van. You did things you aren't proud of. Regardless of what drove you to work that job, you're remorseful. You paid your dues, according to the State of Maryland."

"I didn't do time for the crimes I committed, Bailey. That's my point."

I never asked what was in the envelopes I delivered, and I didn't care. Hit orders? Laundered money? Sure, send it my way. I could be trusted to keep my mouth shut and not break the seal. My conscience remained clear as I rationalized that I wasn't the one killing people. I was the embodiment of the sunk cost fallacy. As deep as I'd dug my hole, as hard as I'd worked to not only survive but thrive, I thought my best option was to stay the course.

And yet, none of that stupidity had been my downfall. My code of honor had fucked me, and I'd taken the loss with my arms held wide. Punishment accepted; fate forever changed. My spot in the organization was guaranteed to wait for me until I was free once again.

What I hadn't counted on was what it looked like on the inside. The Vitale name only carried so much weight, and being the dumbfuck who got caught—rather than the patsy set up to take the fall—didn't garner the respect I thought it would. Fighting for my life every day in a minuscule cell wore me down. Men who would sooner kick you in the balls than look you in the eyes became the norm; guards and other prisoners alike. Nothing like the streets I'd conquered, nothing like the old neighborhood where everyone followed the same rules. I'd suffered more than I could speak about in that place, and they'd finally broken my spirit. When the deal came down, freedom in exchange for snitching, I had only taken the time to contact my lawyer before accepting.

The fact that she was also my sister weighed on me. I didn't want her safety threatened along with mine.

Beth expected me to get out of Storm Cove Penitentiary and move in with her and her husband, playing happily ever after with a target on my back. I didn't think she understood the danger I'd placed us all in. Instead, I fled in the middle of the night, leaving only a note of apology and the contents of my bank account as a thank you for saving my ass. All I'd brought with me was a few hundred dollars. Enough to rent a pitiful existence and to feed my dog until I could earn a paycheck.

Restless, I stood, walking away from the miracle of total acceptance. Why did I feel compelled to force her into seeing me as vile trash? Certainly not good enough for her. She was pure innocence compared to my pitch-black soul. Pacing back to the couch and staring down at her, I frowned. Her face was pale, bright flags of red riding high on her cheeks. I didn't want to stand over her; to look down on her. It wasn't fitting for someone like me, who belonged miles below the surface of the earth.

"What are you saying, Van?" Rising, moving closer, she reached for me.

Jerking my arm away before her fingers could make contact, I breathed in and out. Deep, rough, horrible breaths churned in and out of my lungs.

"Van," she said gently.

That's not even my name, I wanted to scream. Mostly, I wanted to cry. How could the heavens have placed someone in front of me whom I clearly didn’t deserve?

With a bitter laugh, I realized it was more likely the devil getting his jollies by presenting such delectable temptation.

"You're so . . . You're so you." At her frown, I expounded. "Good, sweet, helpful, amazing."

"Thanks? I mean, you make it sound like an insult."

"I'm the opposite. Before prison broke me, I was arrogant, rude, and thoughtless. Selfish."

"You've clearly changed."

Scouring my fingers over my eyes, I tried to pinpoint when I'd become a martyr. I hadn't changed intentionally; the things I’d endured in prison had done that against my will. "I'm still not good enough for you."

"It's not your place to decide for me."

Bailey's tone must have stressed Heidi out. Her ears lowered, and she shoved her head between my knees until I straddled her. It was a position her trainer taught her to occupy when there was nearby conflict. Though she didn't growl, she focused her attention on the woman across the room. The one I was desperately trying to push away, to talk some sense into. To make her see reason.

Gesturing at my dog, Bailey said, "You've stressed her out."

The accusation shocked me. "I did?"

"She senses your feelings, you know. Why do you think Charlie disappeared again?"

I had no idea what to say to that. "You're right that I can't decide for you. But I can remove myself from the situation. Then there's no choice to make."

"You'd rob yourself of friends to prove a point?"

When she framed it in those words, it sounded ridiculous. "That's not my intention."

"It's what you're doing." Shaking her head, Bailey circled the far side of the coffee table and headed to the kitchen.