Page 47 of Two Sides of Sin

“I hate you!” she shrieked. “I wish I’d never gone to church with Nana that Sunday!”

The words hurt, I won’t lie.

I leaned down, my face inches from hers, and finally told her what we both already knew but she was desperate to hear.

“I love you!” I finally admitted. Not just to her, but myself.

She froze. Her thrashing immediately stopped. The only sound was our heavy breathing.

“I love you, June,” I whispered, my voice a broken thing. “I’m a coward for waiting to tell you, a monster for how much I want you, but I love you more than any soul has ever been allowed to love. It’s beautiful and all consuming. I watched him steal your future, and I stood by and let it happen because the thought of a world without you in it was a death I couldn’t face. I am the villain of this story. But I am a villain who would scale the heavens and slaughter God himself just to keep you by my side. Don’t leave me, June.. please.”

She started to cry again, a broken, defeated sobbing. I couldn’t stand it. I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, a desperate attempt to anchor her to me. She tried to push away at first, but then, the energy between us shifted.

The resistance vanished. She began to kiss me back with a feral, biting intensity. It was a kiss born of rage, a desperate attempt to reclaim power. She was biting my lip, pulling me closer even as she sobbed into my mouth. I could taste the salt of her tears and the tang of my own blood.

Then, as quickly as the fire had ignited, she extinguished it. She shoved me off, scrambled to her feet, and grabbed her bags. Without another word, she stormed back towards the house. She couldn't leave; the gates were locked, and she knew I had the only key.

I stayed there on my knees in the grass for a moment, before I stood up slowly and began the long, silent trail back inside behind her. I had finally said the words, and they hadn’t saved us. They had only made the cage smaller.

I watched her from across the kitchen island, a cold knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. She was humming along to the record that was playing in the background, her soft voice echoing through the manor halls. In My Solitude by Billie Holiday was playing, its melancholy notes casting a heavy shadow over the room her light, airy tone stripped away the gloom lingering as if she were untouched by the darkness of this house.

She was smiling, too, as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. It didn’t reach her eyes.

I didn’t know what was weirder, June not mentioning the office, or the fact that she was acting like yesterday had been a fever dream.

“You’re awfully cheerful this morning,” I said, leaning against the counter.

She didn’t look up. “It’s a beautiful day, Julian. Why wouldn’t I be?”

I watched her reflection in the window. The second she thought the stage was empty, her smile vanished. Her eyes tracked the back of my skull. In that split second, I saw a look so devoid of warmth, so far from love, it made my stomach sink.

Cain walked past then, the morning paper under his arm. Without breaking her hum, June calmly raised her middle finger at him. Cain scowled and kept walking. She definitely wasn’t over it. The “good girl” act was a thin veneer over a well of pure spite.

“What do you want to do today?” I asked. “Want to cross something else off your list?”

“Not today, Julian,” she said, her voice flat. “I’m tired.”

“Are you sure? We could get away from the house for a while. Just us.”

“I said no.” She cut me off abruptly.

“I have a headache. I’m just going to go lie down.”

She turned to walk away. I reached out on instinct, my fingers closing around her arm. “Hey…”

She froze. She didn’t pull away, but she went perfectly still, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Are you okay? Really?” I asked. “You can tell me, June.”

She finally looked at me, her head tilting slightly. Her eyes were like glass. “And why wouldn’t I be okay, Julian?”

The sarcasm was so subtle it almost didn’t register, but it stung worse than a slap. She gently disengaged her arm and walked away before I could utter another syllable.

I stood there in the middle of the kitchen. I realised that the June I knew, the one who gave me her blind trust, was gone. In her place was someone I didn’t recognise. Someone who was learning how to play the game just as well as we did.

Chapter 35

Cain