Sins & Secrets (Sins 1)

The ping of homesickness erupts into straight up heartache. “No, he’s the last person I can contact,” I say a hint of emotion sneaking into my tone. I miss Layton—miss everything about him. Even though I still have no idea where his allies stand, I can’t forget about him stepping in and shooting someone for me, not can I forget all the years we were friends.

It’s been two months since Layton and I parted paths that cold night in front of my house. The night he kissed me with desperation then told me to run for my life after we’d both committed murder. “Run away. It’s the only way you’ll survive this. Run away and never look back. It’s what your mother should have done,” were the last words he said. I thought about contact him a few times, but can’t seem to bring myself to do it, knowing it’d be a stupid move. If Layton hasn’t gotten in trouble with Frankie and the Dellefontes and is still around Boston, then I know for a fact the Dellefontes are watching him like a hawk to get to me. They know—everyone does—that Layton and I have history and there are so many times I relied on him for help.

Like that night.

My Aunt stays silent for what feels like an eternity. The longer it goes on, the more I realize that not only is she keeping something from me, but it has to be something extremely bad.

“Glady just tell me. What ever it is just spit it out.” I open my eyes and stair up at the dingy ceiling. The place I’m living in is a real dive, but being extravagant isn’t an option anymore. Blend in. No credit cards. Cash only, which means I have to earn the cash and I’m discovering that I’ve lived a very lucky, sheltered life. Minimum wage sucks, but I do what I have to do to survive, working two jobs—one as a waitress at a strip club and I also work the night shift as a cashier at the local gas station In Rapid Falls.

“I’m so sorry, Lola,” she whispers hoarsely, about to cry. “But Layton… Layton died about a week ago.”

At first I think I’ve heard her wrong. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“I’m so sorry Sweetie,” she utters. “But Layton… he’s gone.”

Invisible fingers wrap around my neck as it feels like the wind is knocked out of me. As emotions battle their way to the surface, it feels like I’m being stabbed with a thousand needles. Pain. Blinding. Aching, No, it can’t be true. “I don’t understand,” I say, breathless as I slowly sit up in bed. “There’s no way that could be possible.”

“I’m so sorry. Your father called and told me a couple of days ago to see if I could come out for the funeral… I think he hoped I’ve been talking to you, so you would come home. I would have called you sooner, but since I don’t have your number, I had to wait for you to call.”

Breath in. Breathe out. Dammit, Lola. Breathe. “I still don’t believe you.” I swallow the lump in my throat as my heart thumps unsteadily inside my chest. I don’t know what I feel—pain yes, that’s a given. But there’s something else, something much deeper and it makes me realize something about Layton and I. About my feelings for him, so much stronger than I’d ever thought. “I can’t be true. There’s no way.”

But I know it could very well be true. The world we both grew up in makes death easy and living hard. I should have said so much more to him the last time I saw him. Like thank you for saving me, for being my friend, even though we weren’t toward the end. For stepping in when it all came down to it. Helped me when I’d frozen during the kill and almost got myself killed instead. He saved my life and I never got to properly thank him.

And now it’s too late.

God, no, no, no, no, no! Don’t let it be true!

My Aunt Glady sighs again. “Denial isn’t the way to go. Trust me, it’ll only make this more painful.”

“I’m not in denial.” My voice wavers and I squeeze my eyes as tears burn. My lungs have forgot to function, but my heart is overly functioning, pounding, thrashing, battling the pain with it’s erratic rhythm. “I’m just...” I suck in a large breath of air. “How? How did he die?”

“He was shot… by one of the Dellefontes men,” she says quietly. “I guess the had put a hit out on him a while ago for something… I’m not quite sure why—you’re father was really vague on the phone.”

“No, there’s no way… Layton is smarter than that… He would have ran from Stefan Dellefontes if he had put a hit on him.” The pain spreads through my body, blazes like fire, hot, scorching, burning me form the inside. If this is true, then it’s my fault for freezing up and forcing him to step up and kill two of the Dellefontes men that night. My fault. All my fault.

“I saw the obituary in the paper,” she says in a gentle voice. “And an article about the Everett’s losing another child to the drug war going on. I’m sorry honey, but it’s true.”

I start to tremble, shake with rage, pain, heartache. I can’t get oxygen into my lungs, can’t get my heart to settle down. Part of me wants to die right here and never move forward in life again. “This is all my fault… I never should have left him that night—I should have begged him to come with me when I ran. I knew after we made the kill a war would break out with my family and it could also fall back on the Everett’s… I knew yet I still ran.”

She’s quiet for forever, probably because she probably has no idea what I’m talking about. “I’m sorry… maybe you should come here for a while. Come visit Uncle Shelton and me. We’d love to see you and you’d be safe here.”

“I’ll be found if I go there.” I press my fingers to the brim of my nose as I curl up into a call. God, it hurts so much, more than when I killed someone. I want to curl in a ball and die.

“Honey, no one’s going to come looking for you here. We’re out in the sticks. Hardly anyone knows we live here.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Of course.”

I exhale and shake my head before I open my eyes. “Do me a favor and look out your window.”

“Okay… but why?”

“Just do it.”

I wait, attempting not to picture Layton lying in a pool of his own blood, but it’s all I can see. Blood everywhere. Blood on my hands, like the night I took a life.

“Lola, I don’t see anything,” Glady tells me with confusion.