Black Hearts (Sins Duet #1)

Oh god. I’m so close to saying something. So close. I literally have to bite my tongue until I feel the penny taste of blood.

“Violet,” my mother says. “Just trust us on this. We know you think you’re happy. But we also know that he’s not good for you. And the longer you’re with him, the further away you’ll be. From us. From seeing the truth.”

“And what’s the truth?”

She looks at my father and back to me. “We know that bruise is from him.”

“Aaargh!” I cry out, spinning around in frustration. I lean against the countertop over the stove, trying to get my composure back. “For the last time, Vicente did not give me this bruise! Do you really think I would stay with a guy who would do this to me?”

“Then tell us what really happened,” my father says gently, coming forward until he’s cornering me.

“That’s the truth,” I say, lying through my teeth. No way in hell am I mentioning the attack. “I was drunk. I hit the table.”

“And we don’t believe you,” Mom says, getting to her feet and standing beside Dad. “You’re not going to go see him tonight. You’re not going to see him any night.”

I blink at them in shock. “What? You can’t be serious.”

“We’re very serious,” my dad says. “And we don’t care if you hate us forever. We don’t care if you think we’re treating you like a child. You’re our daughter. We love you, we care about you, we worry about you. We’ve seen the world and it’s not a nice place, Violet. And if you don’t know that by now…”

“You’re kidding me?” I whisper. “You really think I don’t know how horrible the world is? You think because I’m quiet and sensitive that I must see things through rose-colored glasses? I don’t. I see the world for what it is. Doesn’t mean I don’t find beauty in it, but I know how rotten it can be.”

Don’t do it, don’t do it.

“Then you’ll understand why we have to keep you safe,” Mom says gently, reaching out for my hand.

“Keep me safe?” I repeat, yanking it away from her. “How is cutting Vicente out of my life keeping me safe? You’re the ones I should be worried about.”

“Us?” Dad asks.

I can’t help myself.

“You think I don’t know?” I ask. “You think Ben doesn’t know? Did you ever wonder why he’s been avoiding us these last few weeks, why he was so upset the last time he was here that he couldn’t even look you in the eye?”

My father seems to age before me, like the color is draining from his blue eyes. He doesn’t say anything. Neither does my mother.

They don’t know what to say, I realize. They don’t know what lies I’ve figured out. Holy fuck. How deep does this go?

I start with Ben.

And I go for the jugular.

I turn to mom and say, “We knows he’s not your son.”

She looks like she’s been doused with ice water.

“We discovered the lie you’ve both tried to bury our whole lives. We found out many lies. That Ben’s mother is a woman called Sophia Madano. That when he was three, just about the same time you went to Mexico, Sophia disappeared and suddenly he was your child, Mom. So when you say I’m safe with you, please, enlighten me as to how your lies are making my life safer.”

I watch them carefully.

They’re both reeling in different ways. Dad’s more internal, just shock in his eyes, the crevice between his brow deepening even further. Mom is more visceral. Mouth open, skin paling, eyes filling with tears.

And just like that, all the anger I have starts to fade. The funny thing about hurting someone that’s hurt you is that it never feels as good as you think it will. Because the only ones who can hurt you are those you love, and they in turn are the only ones you can hurt.

I don’t regret it though. Despite the tightness in my chest, I had to say something. If it wasn’t tonight, it was tomorrow with Ben. At least Ben doesn’t have to witness me destroying them.

“So,” I say, trying to clear my throat. “Explain. Please. And while you’re at it, feel free to tell me why you lied about grandpa dying. Yeah, that’s right. I found the envelope with the Palm Valley newspaper clipping inside. Who was he? Why did you guys lie about him too?”

But there are no easy answers, at least none that they want to give me. They both look so dumbstruck that they’re frozen on the spot, unable to find a way out of it. If the lies are deep, I’m guessing they have to consult each other to get the truth straight.

Finally, Dad just shakes his head. “I’m going for a walk.”

My mom’s head jerks to him in surprise. “Camden!” she cries out as he turns and storms through the house, slamming the front door behind him.

Great. So he just bailed on all this.

My mother has one hand on the counter as if to keep her up, the other hand at her chest. She slowly turns her head to look at me.

We stare at each other for what seems like forever.

The fridge kicks on and hums.

A commercial blares from the living room.

She gnaws on her lip for a moment before saying, “I think you should go to your room.”

I cock my head. Unbelievable.

“What? Am I grounded? You’re the ones who have lied to me my whole life.”

“With good reason,” she says. “It’s something that can’t be simply explained.”

“Well you could fucking try!”

She nods, looking away, cagey as fuck. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow when Ben is here we will all talk. Okay? You’ll hear it all.”

“Mom…”

“For now you need to go to your room and stay home. This doesn’t change anything, especially not about Vicente.”

“It doesn’t change anything!?” I explode. I pick up the box of tea and throw it at her. She ducks, of course, because tea doesn’t travel very fast. But she seems to have gotten my point.

“Violet!”

“Fuck you,” I sneer at her, running past and up the stairs. Yes, going to my fucking room but it’s different when it’s your own choice.

I slam the door and lock it just as my phone beeps.

It’s Vicente.

I’m on my way.