Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)(49)

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I’m standing in the middle of what was once my old bedroom. Saylor never asked my opinion, she just did what she wanted and I did what I was told. I thought it would take longer to have the room ready, but Saylor surprised me with her ability to get shit done.

It’s late, maybe even after midnight, but my old bedroom has been transformed into a new bedroom in less than a day. The room is now a bright yellow and the queen-sized bed we just set up takes up the majority of the small space. The floors still look old and worn, but they are clean and Saylor has a few rugs laying around the room. Two nightstands, two lamps, three candles, curtains, a white comforter, and twenty f*cking pillows later, the room is complete.

“Now it feels a little more like a home. I can’t wait to sleep in this bed!” Saylor is excited and I don’t know what over. It’s a damn house. But whatever.

“I’m hungry,” I mumble because I’m an ass, I’m tired, I’m hot as hell, and I haven’t eaten all day.

“Me too.” Saylor finally drags her eyes away from the room and to me. Her smile outshines the bright yellow of the walls, and I don’t think even the sun could outshine her in this moment.

I follow her to the kitchen and watch as she makes us a sandwich, just like she promised hours ago. I lean up against the counter, listening to her meaningless talk that I love so f*cking much. Love. Shit.

“Tomorrow, we’ll do the living room and kitchen and dining room. It won’t take us long. The painting is the worst part and even that wasn’t so bad. I’ve already cleaned everything anyway. After I eat, I’m gonna work on the bathroom. I figure we can work on the other room last, or whenever you’re ready.” I know she is referring to Black’s room. I’m still not sure how I feel about that, but at least I have a couple of days to think on it.

Saylor’s head has a nasty bruise, but the swelling has gone down and she hasn’t complained about it all day. I wonder if it hurts her.

“What happened in the store?” My words catch her off guard and she stops midchew, her happiness fading.

“If the obvious isn’t enough, I guess I’ll tell you again. I fainted.” She continues eating, avoiding my eyes. I need more and she knows it, but she isn’t giving in that easy.

“You got something you want to tell me?” I ask, knowing good and damn well what her answer will be.

“When the time is right.” Well, that was an answer I wasn’t expecting. I’m beginning to wonder if she gets off on tormenting me.

“The time is right.” And it is. Nothing she tells me is gonna make me push her away. I don’t care if she has head issues that make her faint and give her migraines. I’m a walking f*ckup. Just because I don’t fall out in grocery stores or wake up vomiting doesn’t mean I don’t have my own issues. I’m almost convinced that she is gonna argue or just not answer me, when she speaks.

“When I was a kid, I was in a bad wreck.” She has my undivided attention. I watch as she busies herself around the kitchen while she finds the right words to say. I pull out a smoke and lean back, waiting patiently for her to continue.

“I had a pretty serious head injury. Migraines and fainting are a part of my life. I’ll have them as long as I live. I don’t take meds daily because I don’t like how they make me feel. I’ve had the fainting spells for so long that I’ve grown accustomed to them.” She stops and points to the fading knot on her head, but never looks at me.

“This is nothing. I’ve had worse. It’s the first time I’ve fainted in a long time.” She avoids my eyes and I’m sure it’s because she is afraid of what she will find. She knows I’m a busy man. She knows her issues could potentially make me look at her differently. All I can think is that if she really knows me, then she knows I couldn’t give a shit less about her issues. I could tell her this. I could reassure her that it doesn’t bother me. But who needs words when you have a mouth like mine.

I grab her arm, pulling her away from the counter that she has mindlessly been cleaning, and into my chest. And I kiss her. It’s my thank-you because she told me. It’s my reassurance because she needs it. And it’s my promise that I still want her. When she melts into me, I know she gets it.

I break the kiss, just so I can look at her. Precious. Pretty. Cute. Beautiful. All those words that were once so foreign to me are now words that frequent my mind, and they are all directed toward her. I’m looking in her eyes, and guilt is swimming in them. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because she feels guilty for placing this burden on me. Maybe she feels guilty because she can’t offer me a life without worry. Maybe if I open my mouth and speak to her, her guilt will vanish.

“You’re perfect.” I want to tell her that I think I might love her. I want her to know how much. I want her to tell me back, but I’m too scared to say the words. I don’t know what it will mean if I do because I’ve never said them in all of my life.

“Do you love me, Dirk?” Fucking mind reader.

Now or never, Dirk. Redeem yourself now or never. I’m trying to speak, but my mouth just opens and closes over and over. I look like a f*cking idiot—much like I feel.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Her voice is low. Her eyes are pleading. She needs this and I need to get my shit together and give it to her. Straight.