Page 79 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

Zeke kisses the air in her direction. “You love me.”

Her brow arches, and she sucks her teeth. “And you’re going to love abstinence.”

He gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

Chaos erupts. Sinners face off against Saints, each placing bets and heckling over our heads.

I’m still staring at Cisco, the wolf in priest’s clothing, and he’s still staring at me.

Whatever you want, he said.

I walk forward until we meet toe to toe.

“We could have done this in the gym,” I point out.

“I need the water,” he admits.

If not for the glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes, the sort he lets only me see, I would think he’s lying. “Why?”

He drops the volume of his voice. “I told you. There is a point I cross sometimes when I can’t stop. The water is a safety precaution.”

“And I told you, I think you’re overestimating your abilities.”

A breathy, intimate laugh comes from deep in his throat. For a moment, everything falls away. No bet. No pressure. No pool hall. It’s just him and me.

“You really think you can beat me?” I whisper.

He shrugs. That’s it.

It’s the type of indifference I see in men who’ve never lost a fight. It’s a shrug that says, giving me an answer isn’t worth the energy.

I breathe in deeply and exhale. He thinks I’m afraid.

“Mercy,” he whispers, “if this is⁠—”

“This is your first mistake.” I tug hard on his belt. He stumbles into me, sucking in a sharp breath. Palm to his chest, I whisper in his ear, “It won’t be your last.”

I step backward, enjoying the confusion on his face.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Hold please.” Smirking, I lift a finger, spin, and strut toward the changeroom. I wink at the towel-bundled orphans beside Thea as I pass. “Stick around, girls, the lesson’s about to begin.”

Twenty-Seven

Cisco

While Mercy is changing, I take the chance to go and hydrate, then go to the toilet. When I return to the pool hall, the spectators have grown. The Sinners are on the right, sitting on benches with the orphans.

I count six nuns, including Sister Edith. Three more are standing with their backs against the wall, whispering amongst themselves. Sister Martha is perhaps in her forties, but the other two are of retirement age. Knots of tension form in my stomach when I think about what Mercy said about proper attire.

My brash decision to remain in these clothes had more to do with me thinking that I would lose my nerve than anything else. It might also have had something to do with the fact that if I were to wear swimming trunks right now, which I don’t even own, then everyone would see just exactly how my body feels around Mercy.

Returning to the pool hall, I head straight to the pool, bare feet slapping across the wet deck. I give the circular, floating board a dubious look. It’s still waiting to be tethered.

I can swim. That’s not the problem.

The problem is that I have not swum since Maria slipped through my fingers.