The Sinner (The St. Clair Brothers 1)

“I’m sorry,” I said to the woman whose name tag read Lisa M. I sidled up to Calloway and subtly nudged him out of the way. “We’re looking for someone brought in a little while ago. Can you help us?”

“What the fuck are you doing, St. Clair?” Calloway growled under his breath.

I shifted to block Lisa M’s line of sight and fisted the front of his shirt, then yanked him down so I didn’t have to shout. “I’m keeping your ass out of jail,” I hissed. “You're no good to your sister if you're locked up.”

His rage-filled gaze burned into me. I peeked over my shoulder. Shit. I gave Lisa M. a fake smile. She looked scared, and why wouldn’t she? It wasn’t everyday you had two enormous, wild-eyed, panicky hockey players all up in your face. Add Calloway's menacing glower and we were lucky Lisa M. hadn't already screamed for help. Maybe she hit a silent alarm and the cops were on their way.

Lisa M. took a deep breath, and nodded. “W-what’s the n-name?”

“Kylie Calloway,” Sasquatch barked. I elbowed him in the ribs. That earned me a snarl, which I promptly ignored. Hands trembling, Lisa M. typed on her computer.

“Um, y-yes. R-room two oh f-four. M-maternity ward.” She pointed toward a nearby set of elevators. “S-second f-floor.”

Calloway sprinted for the elevators and smashed his palm on the button six or seve

n times. I empathized. I wanted to smash things too, but one of us had to stay levelheaded. He did his part driving. It was his turn to fall apart. Instead of smacking his hand away and dropping him with a haymaker, I shoved my hands in my pockets in studiously ignored my eye.

Twitch, twitch, twitch…

The doors no sooner opened and Sasquatch moved. He practically barreled over an elderly couple and a middle-aged nurse who tried to step off and offered no apologies as he forced his way inside. Calloway turned and glared at me impatiently. Once the people were out of the way, I joined him. Calloway pushed the two over and over, as if abusing the button would get us there faster. If I weren't so damn terrified I would've laughed. Six and half feet of solid muscle versus a tiny plastic button, and the button was winning.

The chime dinged and the doors slid open, allowing the overwhelming sense of doom to return. Calloway tore past the nurse’s station, instead choosing to follow the small, wall-mounted signs labeled with room numbers and tiny arrows. I trailed behind mindlessly. Calloway stopped without warning, and once again, I flailed and slammed into him. Calloway didn’t react or seem to notice. He was too busy staring inside the open door of room two oh four. I stepped around him, but vacillated, torn between needing to see what was in the room and dreading what I might find.

Calloway stepped over the threshold. I held my breath and did the same.

It was a typical hospital room. The walls were painted a hideous toothpaste green and the few pieces of furniture were upholstered in shiny pleather a coordinating darker shade. It may as well have been painted to look like a three-ring circus for as much as I cared. All I saw was the tiny figure on the oversized hospital bed in the center of the room. Tubes and wires snaked from a plethora of machines and IV bags, attached to various parts of her body. I swore, my heart skipped a few beats. Seeing Kylie like that, eyes closed—either sleeping or unconscious—made it difficult to breathe.

Calloway stood at the bedside and held her hand, despite the tubes taped over the pale skin. Suddenly, I felt extraneous, like an unwelcome intruder. I lingered in the doorway and watched Calloway lean over to whisper muffled words in Kylie's ear. She responded and my knees almost gave out as relief rushed through me. Kylie sounded wrecked, but it didn’t matter. She was awake and able to speak.

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.”