The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter thirty-four.

THE DINER IS bustling with the lunchtime rush. I tuck my notepad into my apron and dart behind the counter to help Bessie with the cash register—she's the loveliest woman, far better at customer service than I will ever be, but hopeless with money and basic math.

As I'm carrying two plates with grilled cheese sandwiches, loaded fries and measly salads across the checkered floor to a booth, the front door opens with a chime.

A shadow falls across the diner, the chatter seeming to hush. I glance over my shoulder and go still.

Reaper is glowering at every patron in sight as though they have personally offended him. He is an undeniably imposing figure, taking up the entire entryway with his broad shoulders. His inky hair is slightly messier than it was when I first met him, no longer the short military-style he once kept it to. His five o'clock shadow has deepened, covering his jaw in a thick layer of stubble. The tattoos and sour expression tie the look together, leaving the impression of a thug with an ax to grind.

I am the only one in this diner who knows better.

Placing the plates down in front of the respective customers, I wipe my palms on my diner dress and head towards him.

"Hey." I'm hesitant, unsure how to approach this conversation. All I know is that I don't want to have it in here. "Should we go outside?"

He is studying me like he's trying to figure something out and, though others may misinterpret his glare for dislike, I know better. It is concern.

He nods once, and I turn to call to Bessie, "I'm just going to step out. I'll be a few minutes."

"No worries, love!" comes her cheery reply.

Reaper holds open the diner door for me and I walk out onto the footpath. The sky is a little overcast today, though some blue peeks through the clouds.

Bracing myself for whatever lecture he is about to lay on me, I face him.

But he only stares.

And stares.

Those icy blue eyes become unsettling eventually, and I shift in discomfort.

"Are you ok?" His voice is gruff.

It's not the question I'm expecting, but it does make my shoulders unwind. "I'm ok," I assure him. "Really, I'm fine."

His mouth flattens and he looks across the street. "So it's done? Your deal with Sterling is finished?"

I swallow thickly. "It's done."

When he meets my eyes again, there's something in them that I can't quite place.

"I would have come by your apartment, but I didn't want to give Elodie false hope."

Why do I get the feeling Elodie isn't the only one he's trying to avoid planting false hope in?

"You don't have to check in on me," I say. "You don't owe me anything. You never did."

"Owe?" he spits it venomously, like the word repulses him. "It was never about a debt with us."

I run a tired hand over my face. It's been three mostly sleepless nights since I had sex with Nathaniel. "That's not what I meant."

A car flies by on the street. A businessman strides past us with a phone pressed to his ear and Reaper glares at him like he's an enemy combatant.

"I check in on you because I care," he bites out.

"I know. I appreciate it." I like it, I want to say. But it feels selfish.