For I Have Sinned by Alex Grayson

Author:Alex Grayson [Grayson, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Twisted Fiction Publishing LLC

Chapter 8

WESLEY

Later that evening, after Jersey and Sam each took a shower and I cooked dinner for them, both of which scarfed down the food like they haven’t eaten in days, I’m in the living room, pacing the floor as I wait for Jersey to come back down after getting Sam settled in his room. My thoughts go a mile a minute, coming up with all kinds of scenarios of what kind of trouble the both of them are in.

Is she running from the cops? Did she commit a crime? And what is Sam’s role in all of this? He can’t be any older than twelve or thirteen. What could he have possibly done? Why were they in that abandoned building? And what happened to Sam’s leg?

“Why is a priest living in a house of this size?”

I spin and face the stairs at Jersey’s voice. She’s descending them, her hand running over the smooth railing as she goes.

“My grandparents left me this house when they died years ago. I inherited it when I turned twenty-one,” I tell her.

She stops at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes moving all over the living room. “It’s beautiful,” she states, finally bringing her eyes back to me. “Very cozy.”

“Thanks,” I grunt.

She comes further into the living room and stops at a wall with several hanging pictures. She asks without turning around, “Is this your family?”

I walk over and stand beside her. “Yeah.”

“Wow.” She steps closer to the wall, looking from one picture to the next. “I can’t imagine how difficult it was to grow up with quadruplets for sisters.”

I chuckle. “There were times it wasn’t easy.”

“I bet.”

I turn my head and look at her. For the past several hours, I’ve found myself on more than one occasion watching her. She’s even more beautiful than I thought the night I found her out on the street. Her long, thick hair is loosely braided, the rope lying down her back. She’s wearing one of my t-shirts, the material almost swallowing her whole. She also has on a pair of my sweatpants, no doubt having to roll the waist several times, so they don’t fall down. I lent clothes to both her and Sam because all of theirs were dirty. Her face shines from the bath she took earlier.

“I don’t see your dad in any of these pictures.”

Her comment has me jerking my eyes away, and I look back to the wall.

I clear my throat and my brain of the Jersey-inducing fog. “He wasn’t around much, and when he was, we all wished he wasn’t.”

I feel her eyes on the side of my head, so I glance over. “I’m sorry.”

I lift a shoulder. “He made the choice to be the way he was. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

I turn and follow her with my eyes when she moves away from the wall. She goes to the couch and plops down on one end, tucking her feet under her butt. I follow, but instead of taking

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