The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter forty-three.

"HOW'S YOUR SISTER?"

It has been two weeks since Reaper left for Georgia, and I would be lying if I said I didn't miss him.

"Better, I think," he says. "She's more present with the boys. But..."

"What?" I press the phone closer to my ear as I pour over the plans for the new club. Construction is well underway.

"She hardly speaks to me," he admits quietly. "I think it's better if I come back soon."

Sadness for him wraps around me like a shroud. "Maybe she just needs a little more time. It's been six years since you've spoken—she's probably still adjusting to your presence."

There are a few beats of silence. "She can't forgive me."

"Did she say that?"

"Six years ago she did."

"She was upset six years ago. The grief was fresh. Of course she felt she couldn't move past it. But maybe now..." Hope seeps into my voice, but clearly it doesn't reach him, so many hundreds of miles away.

He is bitter when he says, "What I did was unforgivable."

A long sigh leaves me. "Did you ever think that maybe the problem wasn't that your sister couldn't forgive you, but rather that you couldn't forgive yourself? Did you ever even try to reach out in the past six years?"

"She didn't want to speak to me."

"She said that in the heat of the moment, and then you took her at her word and never even tried! If there is ever a rift this big between Elodie and I, I would stop at nothing to fix it–"

"There wouldn't be, because you would never do what I did."

I have nothing to say to that, and the agitation festering in his voice makes me realize I have pushed as far as I dare right now.

"Is there anything I can do?" I ask gently.

He's quiet, then requests, "Just stay on the line with me for a few more minutes."

So I do.

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"Take a left."

I turn the steering wheel carefully, glancing over my shoulder.

"You need to indicate–"

"I am!"

"And do a shoulder check–"

"I did!"

Nathaniel as a driving instructor is starting to get on my nerves. As it turns out, I don't much enjoy taking orders from him...outside the bedroom.

My lips purse as I try to keep those sorts of thoughts at bay, caged in a little vault in my mind, along with my memories of our night spent together.

"Where are we going?" I ask. "We've been driving for ages."

"Just a bit further. Go right up here."

"I promised Miss Magnolia I'd be back for El before midnight."

"I know. I'll have you home in time for curfew."

I shoot him a glare. The pale moonlight filters through the car window, bathing him in a soft glow. His suit jacket has been thrown into the backseat and the sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up his forearms. A few strands of brown hair, most of it gelled back, fall onto his forehead. He always leans against the window when we drive so he can watch me.