The Sinner (The St. Clair Brothers Book 1) by Heather C. Leigh
Calloway took a step back and turned toward me, lips pressed tight. He was irritated, but I could live with that. I was just grateful he wasn’t tearing all my limbs off and beating the ever-loving shit out of me with them. I returned my attention to Kylie. She looked paler than the last time I saw her. Had that really been last night? It felt like a lifetime since I held her in my arms.
“St. Clair.” I tore my gaze from Kylie’s red-rimmed eyes to look at Calloway. His expression was pinched, but he pressed on. “C’mon.” Calloway waved me forward.
One slow step at a time, I picked up my feet, one after the other. Everything in the room blurred as I approached Kylie. Tears dripped down my face and I could the rhythmic whooshing of my pulse joined the beeping symphony of machines. By the time I reached for Kylie’s hand, my lips tasted of salt.
I swiped at my face with my free hand and sniffed. “Sorry.”
A choked cough came from the periphery. I glanced at Calloway, whose eyes were damp as well. He caught me looking and shrugged, not giving a single shit I caught him tearing up. Fine. I admit it. I was shocked to discover the Tin Man had a heart. Then I touched my fingertips to my face. Calloway probably thought I was a heartless bastard, too, incapable of feeling any emotions that wasn’t fury, indigence, or cutting sarcasm.
Guess we were both wrong.
“Seb.”
My gaze snapped back to Kylie, and fuck, but she looked so damn fragile. I wanted to yank out all the tubes and wires, scoop her up, and take her out of there, but I didn’t. Instead, I held my breath and waited for the worst, to find out if Kylie’s… if our baby was gone.
“I’m here,” I rasped, and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
Calloway walked around the bed to stand on the opposite side. “Ky, what happened?” Thank fuck he had the balls to ask, because there was no way I could. Not in my current state of mind.
I met Calloway’s gaze and, we came to a silent understanding. All of our bullshit, the fighting, the animosity, the hatred, none of it meant jack shit anymore. I nodded in agreement. Calloway’s nostrils flared, and we both returned our attention to Kylie.
Kylie’s chin trembled and tears overflowed. She tugged her hands back to cover her face. She began to sob, and with each one her slender shoulders shook. Calloway and I exchanged glances. It was almost comical, if not for the whole “Kylie pregnant with my kid and in the hospital” thing. It was obvious neither of us knew what to do. We both looked to the other to do something and make it all better. Basically, we were typical men, completely useless when faced with a weeping woman.
“I—” Calloway began.
“Oh good, you’re here.” I spun around. A petite woman in a lab coat breezed into the room, her head down, focused on the tablet in her hand. “Which one of you is the father?” The woman lifted her head, and her dark eyes flicked back and forth between Calloway and me.
I licked my lips. “I…” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Me. It’s, uh, me.”
She nodded and nudged me out of the way to get to Kylie, placing the tablet on the bed. “How are you feeling, dear?”
The doctor’s lab coat said Dr. L. Patel, embroidered on the right breast in navy blue thread. Efficient as one would expect, she checked the machines, somehow making sense of the information when all I saw were squiggly lines and a bunch of numbers. Kylie sniffed and accepted the tissue offered by her brother.
“Fine. I’m tired, but fine.”
“No pain?” Dr. Patel asked.
“No.”
The doctor nodded and gently palpated Kylie’s abdomen. My eye spasmed hard and my anxiety shot through the roof. The desperate need to know what the fuck was happening overrode any common courtesy.
“Excuse me? Can you tell us what the hell is going on?” I blurted. “Why is she here? Is the…” I faltered, took a deep breath, and pushed on. “Is the baby okay?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Calloway lean toward the doctor. He wanted answers as well.
Dr. Patel picked up the tablet to make notes or what the fuck it was that doctors did. “The baby is fine. Ms. Calloway experienced cramps and bleeding and called 911. An ultrasound diagnosed marginal placental previa.” I stared at her. She smiled and explained. “It means the placenta is a little too close to the cervix.”
“What does that mean?” Calloway asked, his gaze darting back and forth between the doctor and his sister.
“It means we will have to monitor Ms. Calloway carefully for the duration of her pregnancy. The condition usually resolves as the uterus grows, but sometimes it persists, in which case she will have to schedule a cesarean section for the birth.”
I reached for Kylie and took her hand again, needing to touch her. Fear like I’d never known, greater than when I used to grab Rémy and hide in a closet, tuck my brother behind me, and listen as our father drunkenly tore the house apart searching for us.
Kylie glanced up at me through damp lashes. Her expression was pleading, begging me to make everything better. Knowing Kylie suffered and there wasn’t a thing I could do, sucked. But the fact that I was the one to cause that suffering, damn near killed me.
“Thank you doctor,” Calloway said. He came around the bed and shook the doctor’s hand. I think I did, too, my memory started to get fuzzy around the time I entered the room. The next thing I knew, Dr. Patel was gone and Calloway was talking to me.
“I need a moment alone with my sister.” I stood there, numb, but… not. Every inch of my body hurt, though the pain didn’t quite register. “St. Clair!”
I flinched. “Huh? What?”
“Can you…? I’m asking if you’ll give me a few minutes alone with Ky.” He was asking? Not simply shoving me out the door and locking it behind me? I checked with Kylie, who nodded.
“All right. I’ll just, um, be outside.” I glanced at Kylie again.
“Can you get me something to drink?” she asked. “Maybe a sweet tea?”
“Okay.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what? Make it unsweet.”
“Sure, no problem,” I hurriedly agreed. I’d bring her anything she asked for. Tea, change of clothes, Ferrari… whatever. “Uh, Calloway?” Calloway tore his attention from his sister to glower at me. “Um, did you want something? Coffee?”
Stunned, Calloway’s irritation melted and he nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good. Coffee. Black, thanks.”
I left the room and found the elevators. Alone inside the small metal box, I slumped against the wall and fisted my hair. If anything were to happen to Kylie… to my… to our kid. I wasn’t certain I could ever claw my way out of the destruction.
I had been led to believe I was strong. That because of everything I’d been through in my tumultuous twenty-six years on this mostly miserable planet, I was tough, impervious to something as insignificant as heartache.
I was wrong. No one was immune to life’s cruel twists and turns. Even Superman has a weakness.
Kylie Calloway is my own brand of kryptonite. The worst part was the overwhelming helplessness. The inability to erase all the negative shit. The only thing I could do was hope and pray that not only would Kylie and the baby be okay, but that I would come out the other side, not as the beaten and destroyed man I’d become, but someone better. Someone worthy of Kylie and the baby, worthy of their love and deserving of a place in their lives and hearts.
Kryptonite or not, I can’t live without her. I’d be there for her, do my best to get through the pregnancy a painlessly as possible, even if it led to my complete and utter annihilation.
For a chance at having Kylie and a family, it was a price well worth paying.
Kylie
Rocco picked up a chair, placed it next to the bed, and sat. It creaked when he lowered his weight into it, but surprisingly, the thing held up. I chewed on my lip as I sorted through the myriad of emotions I still had to process through. Seeing the blood and feeling faint, calling 911… everything happened too fast for me to do anything bu
“How are you feeling?” Rocco asked.
I stared at my lap. After everything we’d been through, I was nervous. Rocco knew my secret. Knew about Seb. Rocco sounded calm, but I knew him well enough to detect an underlying current of tension. What I didn’t know was whether that tension was caused by my health scare, by finding out about Seb, or a combination of both. But Rocco was there when I needed him, and for now, that was good enough.
“Okay,” I said. “Tired, but not bad.”
Rocco reached out and touched the shadowed skin under my eyes. “You look exhausted, Ky.”
I shrugged. “Nothing new since…” I didn’t finish. The “since I got pregnant” unnecessary.
Rocco exhaled and scrubbed his hands over his face and up through his hair, which stood every which way. “I’m glad the baby is okay.”
My response was to giggle. Rocco looked at me as if I lost my mind. He grunted.
“What’s funny?”
“You,” I said. Maybe it was the drugs messing with my head, or my lack of sleep had made me delirious. Either way, inappropriate or not, I couldn’t stop. “You look like don’t know how to feel,” I continued. “Happy the baby is healthy and I’m okay, or disgusted because of who I slept with.”
“Ugh!” Rocco winced and covered his ears. “God, Ky! Don’t. Just don’t. I can’t unhear that kind of shit.” His reaction only fueled the laughter. Rocco scowled and waited patiently until I got control of myself. When I finally stopped, reality sobered me up quick.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Rocco didn’t ask why. He knew exactly what I was sorry for.
“Why’d you do it, Ky? I mean, not why you did what you did, you know, the, uh…” He pointed at my belly and turned green. “I don’t want to hear the gory details. Just, I don’t get it. Of all the guys out there, why him?”
I twisted the sheet into a tight ball, then let go, watched it unwind, and did it again. “Because he’s dangerous,” I mumbled. Rocco didn’t interrupt, so I kept going. “Because I’m messed in the head, Rocco. I uh, like that Seb is for all intents and purposes, off limits. That…the fact that you didn’t like it…it made it more exciting, or something. I just didn’t think… Then, I realized I kind of like him, and…” I got choked up and Rocco ran his hand in circles on my back.
“It’s okay, Ky. I’m not mad.”
I shot up straight and met my brother’s gaze. “You’re not?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m so fucking glad you’re okay, I don’t give a shit about St. Clair.” My mouth fell open and I stared at Rocco in disbelief. His lips twisted and after a minute, he said, “Fine,” and jammed both hands in his hair. “Fine. Yeah, I care, but not enough to make it a thing. Not while you’re sitting in the hospital after almost losing the baby.”
“He’s not as bad as you think.” I said it so quietly I wasn’t sure Rocco heard over the monitors.
His snort let me know that he did. “Yeah, he’s that bad, Ky.” He sighed. “It’s not about me anymore.” Rocco put his hand over mine, putting an end to my sheet-twisting. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m going to ask this?” He pulled a face. “Does St. Clair make you happy?”
Did he? Sometimes.
“I think he could,” I said, going for honesty instead of deluding not only Rocco, but also myself. “We have a lot to talk about before I can think about that.”
A quick rap on the door and Seb entered the room.
“Here.” Seb handed Rocco a steaming Styrofoam cup and placed the other on the table next to the bed. Then he manhandled the wheeled tray and cursed under his breath when it wouldn’t cooperate with his efforts to reposition it over my lap. After he muttered what I assumed were a few French-Canadian obscenities, the wheels rolled under the bed. Seb put the big cup of iced tea on the tray, then shoved his hands in his pockets.
“I’m going to take a walk.” Rocco bent over and kissed my forehead. He turned to Seb. “I’ll call Coach and explain the situation.” Seb’s looked at Rocco, eyes wide. “Don’t worry, St. Clair. I’ll spare him the details. See you guys in a little while.”
And then it was just us.
Seb slid into the newly vacated chair and took a sip from his cup, which smelled like coffee. He was a mess—slumped down in the seat, face haggard, right leg bouncing up and down. How someone could be totally exhausted and tense at the same time was beyond me, but that’s exactly what Seb was.
We needed to talk, but I didn’t know where to start. Seb left, disappeared in the middle of the night. I thought we were done. But he came to the hospital, and as much as I didn’t want to give myself false hope, Seb didn’t act like a man who didn’t care.
“How did you know I was here? And why were you with Rocco?”
Seb put his coffee on the bedside table and shifted to the edge of the seat. With Seb so close, I could finally see what I failed to notice earlier. He was afraid. It was written all over his face, from the tiny wrinkles that creased his brow to the twitching muscles around his left eye. He reached for my hand and I felt a slight tremble in his fingers before they wrapped around mine. He nervously licked his lips. When our gazes finally met, tears shone in Seb’s eyes and my throat burned as my own welled up in response.
“We were in Coach V’s office when the hospital called.” Seb rubbed the back of his neck, looked up at the ceiling, and inhaled. “Coach didn’t even have to say anything. I just… knew. I don’t know how, but I knew something was wrong, and the way he looked at Calloway, er, uh, Rocco, I knew it was about you.”
“And Rocco let you tag along?”
“He didn’t say I couldn’t. I think we were both so intent on getting here, everything else was secondary.” Seb shifted from the chair and sat on the edge of the bed and scooped up my hands in both of his and held them to his chest. “It wasn’t about us, Ky. Nothing was as important as you.”
I exhaled a shaky breath and felt a single tear slide down my cheek. “I thought…” I swallowed thickly. “I thought you didn’t want me.” I glanced at my belly and amended my statement. “Us.” Seb jerked back like he’d been slapped. “You left.”
“I did.” He squeezed my hands. “I’m sorry. I should have said something. I needed time to work through everything, but I swear to you, Ky. I was coming back. I just needed to wrap my head around stuff, and get a plan in place.”
“A plan? Since when do you plan anything? I thought you were Mr. Spontaneous.”
Seb smirked. “You mean like sending gifts to beautiful women at hockey games?”
“Yeah,” I said, fighting back a smile.
The smirk fell off Seb’s face. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said, sounding wrecked. “I’m not a good person. You deserve so much better.”
I tugged my hands back and lifted them to his unshaven cheeks. Seb wouldn’t look at me, so I did the only thing I could think of, and kissed him. When he didn’t respond, I did it again. And again. Seb breathed through his nose and shuddered. Finally, he got with the program. Seb palmed the back of my head and slid his other hand around my waist, deepening the kiss with a moan, which I swallowed greedily. I happily let him take charge, and when Seb slid his tongue across my lips in silent demand, I complied. He tasted like coffee and longing and home. We made-out until my lips were swollen and my chin burned from his stubble. Seb pulled back and shifted from the bed to the chair and tunneled his fingers in his hair.
“Seb?”
He peeked over his shoulder at the door. Satisfied no one would interrupt, he turned back to me, his posture different, straighter, rigid. His body thrummed with nervous tension and he licked his lips.
“There’s no good way to say this, so I’m just gonna lay it out there.” The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end and a chill pricked down my arm
I held perfectly still and tried my best not to react. I didn’t want Seb to think he frightened me. Was I confused? Yes. Shocked? Definitely. Frightened? Never. It was that moment I realized I trusted him—with my child, my life, my very soul.
“What happened?” I asked, urging Seb to continue. I didn’t want him to relive what was clearly a painful moment in his life, but I had to know, and not out of some sick curiosity. I wanted to know everything about Seb. All of it, the good, the bad, and yes, even the truly awful.
Seb’s eyes glistened and his neck flushed pink. The rosy color contrasted against his pale skin and, under the fluorescent lighting, his face appeared a sickly shade of green. Or maybe it wasn’t the light, because when Seb described his childhood, I felt sick too.
“Mom died young. Cirrhosis. Dad drank too, but the tough bastard didn’t do us a favor by croaking along with her. When Mom drank, she cried a lot.” Seb blinked, a far away in his eyes. “When Dad drank, he got violent, and Rémy… shit, he was just a little kid. I…” Seb brushed away a tear that slipped out. “I couldn’t let him hurt Rémy. I-I would hide Rémy, stash him somewhere in the house, then provoke the old bastard into coming after me.”
A wave of overwhelming love and sorrow came over me. I knew Seb might not appreciate the gesture, or interpret it as me thinking he was weak, but I couldn’t just watch as he ripped the bandages off of decade old wounds. I had to try and comfort him, even though it was too little, too late.
I scooted to the edge of the bed and grabbed Seb’s hand, threading our fingers. “Go on,” I said as I swallowed back a sob.
My heart broke for this man, for the boy he once was. Seb’s brash arrogance suddenly made sense. He used the abrasive persona to hide his broken childhood, his lost innocence. Created a shield to keep people from getting too close, that way they wouldn’t get a glimpse of the shattered man behind the curtain. I ignored the tears that dripped down my face. They didn’t matter. None of it mattered—not Rocco, not my fears, not Seb leaving. Not when it was so obvious that Seb was scared to death he would turn into his father. I squeezed his hand and he took a deep breath.