Lessons in Sin

I would never see him again.

Why couldn’t I just die? I didn’t want to take my own life. But sometimes, when I lay in bed, alone and hurting down to the depths of my soul, I wished for a terminal disease or a fatal lightning strike or a venomous spider bite. I wanted the choice to be taken from me. I just… I needed this pain to go away.

“You could graduate right now if you wanted.” Mindy, my private tutor, scrutinized me over the lenses of her glasses. “You’re very smart, Tinsley. You’ve already mastered all the material.” She rested her forearms on the table in my father’s study, tapping a pen against the surface. “Every day, I come in here and bore you to tears.”

It wasn’t boredom.

I was profoundly, inconsolably sad. The kind of sad that couldn’t be medicated or counseled. There was no cure for heartbreak.

But she was right. I could take the tests now, earn my diploma, and be done with high school.

It would change nothing.

My future wasn’t waiting on my graduation. It was waiting on Tucker. He would graduate from St. John de Brebeuf in May, spend the summer traveling, spreading his seed to women far and wide and living his male privilege to the fullest.

My mother intended to announce our engagement at her annual winter ball. There would be no proposal. No courtship. Just the contract, which was already signed and waiting for Tucker to settle down and step into his role.

“If I took the final tests now,” I asked without enthusiasm or care, “what would I do for the next two months?”

“You can get a jump on your college studies. You can study topics that interest you.”

I could read the books Magnus had put on my e-reader and learn how to run an animal shelter that I would never have. There was no place for that in Bishop’s Landing. I would be expected to attend parties, look pretty, and smile like a princess for our royal subjects.

I felt sick.

“I’m finished for the day.” I closed my laptop and slumped back in the chair.

Familiar with my moods, Mindy packed up her belongings and left. The instant the door shut behind her, I wept. Quiet tears coursed down my cheeks. I couldn’t help it. My misery was constant.

Galen sat on the couch, his gaze on his phone, probably sick to death of watching me cry. He saw it every day and never said a word.

Perry had mentioned he was retired military. That fit his hardened exterior. But he had a softness in his brown eyes. Compassion. I felt it as he rose from the couch and handed me a tissue. He carried them in his pocket just for me.

“Eat.” He pointed at my untouched breakfast on the table.

How could I eat? How could I, knowing it wouldn’t fill the emptiness?

“I said eat,” he growled, losing patience.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’ve watched you lose weight for three months. Weight that you don’t have to lose. If you drop another pound, you’ll disappear.”

“I want to disappear,” I whispered.

I want to die.

“You’ll eat if I have to force it down your throat.” He slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the dishes.

This was the tenth time in as many days that he’d stood over me, threatening me with food.

He didn’t know the source of my grief. To him, I was just a self-absorbed rich girl, wallowing in her mansion. My mother had probably tasked him with watching over my diet. I was supposed to look a certain way, maintain a perfect weight, and assume the ideal image of a trophy wife.

I’d agreed to do this. Crying and refusing wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Holding his gaze, I scooped up a handful of dry cereal from the bowl and crammed the pieces into my mouth. I chewed with loud, smacking, crunching sounds that shattered the strained silence. Crumbs fell down my shirt and stuck to my chin as I fisted more and shoved it into my already full mouth.

“You’re a mess.” His lips bounced with a smile as he returned to the couch.

I wanted to share his amusement and dug deep to find a morsel of happiness. But it wasn’t there. That emotion simply didn’t exist. Not today.

Not the week after.

Not the month that followed.

I continued my lessons with Mindy. In the evenings, I read the books Magnus had given me. On the weekends, I put on sparkly gowns, did my hair, and went downstairs to show my face at my mother’s hoity-toity parties. Sometimes, Tucker made the trip home to attend them.

At every opportunity, he tried to talk to me, corner me, and get me alone. Those were the moments when I appreciated Galen’s presence. He intervened every time Tucker tried to touch me.

Four months after I left Sion Academy, my mother hosted her biggest party yet. A charity ball. All the schmoozers and socialites of Bishop’s Landing were here—bankers, politicians, business moguls, and the like.