Sin With Me

Prologue-Eve

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

No one ever tells you what a funeral is really like. They don’t talk about the soul-shattering wails of mourners as they stand graveside, loudly expressing their devastation. They don’t recall the distinct scent of fresh, wet soil and decay permeating the air. No one talks about the salty taste of tears that coat your tongue as you try again and again to remind yourself this is real.

No.

All they ever recall is the pain.

The living, breathing pain that settles so deep inside you you can’t remember a time before it existed. It aches and throbs, festering like a fatal wound until you have no choice but to block it out entirely and sink into a state of complete and utter nothingness.

I’m doing everything in my power to fight it, but it’s a losing battle.

I know people are staring at me, expecting me to be the sobbing, mournful mess of an orphan I’m supposed to be. I’m left with nothing but the faint memories of my father, the fresh memories of my mother, and the love of the only two people I have left in the world.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

Rain pelts us, but I barely feel it. I barely hear the dull ping as it lands on the flower-covered casket in front of us. I can’t stop staring at the freshly turned earth, at the dirt that’s slowly becoming mud. At the casket sitting just above the deep hole, almost ready to be lowered and forgotten into the ground.

My mother is in there. In that beautiful, ornate box. Dead.

My mother is dead.

Isaac’s arm tightens around my shoulders, and I almost let out the sob I’ve been holding all day. I don’t know why the tears haven’t come, why they won’t come. A lump has been thick in my throat since I woke up this morning, but my eyes have stayed dry.

I was a child when my father died. I don’t remember the funeral. I don’t remember feeling like this. I don’t remember the sounds or smells or tastes. I only remember digging my face into Mama’s neck and letting her hold me as I fell to pieces.

I was too young to truly understand the finality of death, but I felt it. I felt it deep to my core, but Mama was there, holding me and comforting me with her familiar warmth.

A warmth that no longer exists because she’s dead

Dead, cold, and almost buried.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

An ugly choking sound leaves me, and Isaac reminds me he’s here, holding me closer, silently reminding me that I’m not alone. But it’s not his arms I want around me, it’s not his comfort I seek.

My gaze slides to Roman’s, and his hazel eyes sear into my soul. He stares at me as I rest my head on his father’s arm, at the way Isaac’s hand flexes on my shoulder, his gold wedding band barely glinting in the cloud-covered sun.

A balmy, warm breeze blows across my sticky skin, sending a shiver down my sweaty spine. It’s over ninety degrees today, but clearly God didn’t give a shit about the heat, and decided to add rain into the mix. I don’t swear much, but I’m pretty sure the Lord is fucking with us.

I almost scoff.

It’s fitting He’d do something like this—make us stand in the hot rain and mourn Mama. He didn’t care when He took Daddy from us years ago. He didn’t care when He took Mama from me days ago. Why would He care about the damn weather?

I shove back the emotions that have swirled inside me since the moment I saw her being wheeled toward the ambulance.

It’s not fair, I know that. I can’t blame the Lord for nature any more than I can blame Him for calling Mama to Heaven. Accidents happen. Isaac has reminded me of that time and time again in the last week. It’s no one’s fault.

Still, it’s hard to not be angry with God when He’s taken so much from me before I’ve even had a chance to live.

Isaac squeezes my shoulders, pulling me from my whirling thoughts. I tilt my head back, getting a small glimpse of him before shutting my eyes to block the rain.

“What do you say to some peach pie when we get home?” he murmurs, and I nod, unable to speak. I drop my head, letting the raindrops slide down my face, pretending they’re the tears that I know should be falling. “That’s my girl.” His voice is a harsh whisper. Roughly, he clears his throat, and the sound of him choking on his emotions has me choking on mine.

Despite agreeing, I won’t be eating any of the peach pie even though it’s my favorite. I know he’s just trying to take the pain away and get me to finally eat something, but I can’t bring myself to tell him I never want to eat another bite of peach pie again. It’ll remind me of her—everything will. But knowing I’m eating our favorite treat without her just won’t feel right.

Going on living without her won’t feel right.

He kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering as he breathes deeply before pulling away. He clears his throat again, and I glance up, finding him pinching between his brows. He looks exhausted. Heavy, dark bags are growing under his chocolate brown eyes.

And it’s not until this moment I realize I’ve not only lost my mother, but he’s lost his wife. My heart aches for him; it aches for Roman.

Isaac has been staying strong for me. He’s been nothing but painfully stoic since Mama died. He’s been a rock for me to lean on. And Roman has been…

“Preacher Isaac,” someone calls from behind us. I drag my gaze from Isaac’s, finding my stepbrother’s just as the voice rings through the solemn air. Roman’s square jaw flexes, his eyes hard as he stares at his father. His expression is clear— do not leave us . Not right now. Don’t go to your flock. Stay with us, your family. Your children.

“I’ll be right back,” Isaac promises, kissing my temple. He hesitates, his arm still around me. “We’ve got this, sweetheart.” His voice is thick with emotion as he searches my eyes. I swallow hard and nod against him, feeling the thirty bobby-pins keeping my thick mess of curls in place, dig into my scalp. I ignore it and let the tiny pin-pricks of pain ground me.

It’s better than feeling nothing.

Isaac gives me another squeeze before dropping his arm to his side. Without his shelter, the harsh rain begins pelting me harder. He pauses, looking between Roman and me. The tension grows thick between the two of them but no one speaks as Isaac turns and leaves to be with his flock.

I stare back at the casket as it’s lowered into the ground. Preacher Hale’s earlier words come back to me, and anger comes with them.

God needed another angel .

What about Isaac, my stepfather and her loving husband? Or her stepson, Roman? What about our church and this town? Our friends? Grandma Jean? Oli and Chase? She’s been like a second mother to them. Surely they need her more than Heaven does.

What about me?

If God really knew anything, He’d know she was needed just as badly here, in Divinity Falls, as the preacher’s wife and my mother, more than He needed another angel. He has millions of them, why did He have to take her? He already has Daddy and Cami.

Why would He take her before we were ready to let her go?

We’re left scrambling to pick up the pieces and figure out how to live in a world where she doesn’t exist anymore. How am I supposed to continue on with my life knowing she’s missing every milestone? How am I supposed to be happy when I graduate, or at my wedding, or when I have my first baby, knowing she’s not there to celebrate with me?

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair .

“Goldie?” Roman murmurs, his voice almost inaudible over the rain and my spiraling thoughts. I look up at him, but can’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. I’ve exhausted every word over the last week trying and failing to figure out why she’s gone.

I know I should be falling apart. That I should feel something other than this bitter emptiness. But I don’t. I can’t.

“It’ll be okay,” he says. I press my lips firmly together at his words, trying to stop my chin from quivering. Whatever strength he’s carrying for the both of us nearly breaks when he sees it. I notice it in his eyes, the pain he’s trying to hide. “It’ll be okay.” He says it again like the more he says it, the more we’ll believe it.

But we both know it won’t be.

Things are different now.

He wraps his pinky tightly around mine, and a tear finally drips from my eye, down my cheek, and falls to the wet ground. His hold tightens, and I shuffle closer to him, needing his warmth. His protection.

As I steady my breathing, I look around. Mama is fully lowered into her eternal resting place, and mourners surround the deep hole as they pay their final respects. The rain comes down thickly around us, coating the well-manicured cemetery in hot, humid water.

I glance over my shoulder, finding Isaac talking with an older man. He’s gripping a worn Bible, holding it close to his chest under his black coat, like he’s trying to keep it dry from the rain. My head tilts to the side as I watch them, and a tear slides from the corner of my eye into my hair. The man meets my gaze and gives me a sympathetic smile. I nod respectfully, because that’s what’s expected from me, and face forward again.

Roman’s finger stays wrapped around mine in a wordless pinky promise until the last of the mourners finish throwing dirt and flowers on Mama’s casket. I refuse to let go of his hand, knowing without it, I’d crumble to the ground.

“Hi, kids.” Roman stiffens beside me as Mary approaches. I try to pull away, but his pinky tightens further, leaving us locked together. “I’m so sorry, Evie.” She gently grips my shoulder, a soft, pitying smile on her face. “I know how hard it is to lose a mother.” She glances at Roman, her face still soft.

I feel him vibrating, and I know he’s moments away from exploding. His lip twitches, like he’s holding back a snarl, and I squeeze his pinky with mine, trying to ground him. It doesn’t help.

“I know how much she loved you both,” she continues. “Jane was a good woman.” She looks over my head at Isaac and the church’s congregation, as she says, “You were both so lucky to have her as a mother.”

“She’s not my mother,” Roman hisses, and Mary’s eyes snap to him. “And Eve isn’t my sister.”

He lets go of my hand, and I feel like I’m falling. Like I’m moments away from fainting. Like the world is spinning and spinning. Like everything is out of control.

Roman takes one step away from me and the small distance he’s put between us feels like a mile. I want to reach for him again. I want to sob in his arms and beg him to comfort me, demand he make everything better, that he makes me better.

But he takes another step away.

“I just meant—”

“Thank you, Miss Mary,” I say, interrupting her before she can do any more damage. “She was the best.”

I feel Roman’s gaze on me, burning into the side of my head. If I look at him, I will break, and I can’t do that yet. I can’t break in front of everyone. In front of the town. The church. In front of Mary.

They already pity me, and I don’t want to make it worse.

“You know I’m always here for you,” she says softly. “For you both.” She risks a glance at Roman, but I still don’t. “Anything you need, I’m here.” I nod again, giving her a watery smile as she pulls her hand away and heads off toward Isaac and his group.

Finally, I glare at Roman, but he just stares blankly back at me, like he’s daring me to say something. He knows I won’t when we’re surrounded by people, so I grip his wrist and yank him from the gravesite. He lets me lead him down the worn path that separates our church and house, split by wildflower fields and Barry’s Pond.

Roman grunts but follows me, and never pulls his hand away. I try to ignore his towering height behind me, at the way I know he’s only moving this way because he wants to and not because I have any strength to make him.

The walk is silent, but I can’t mistake that for peace. My heart knows better. My life is full of anything but peace right now.

When our house comes into view and I see the massive crowd already gathering outside for the wake, I nearly scream. I just want one moment. One lousy moment alone with Roman to talk about this. To talk about everything. I just want everyone to go away and let me attempt to cry about my mother without their prying eyes.

I come to a stop, and Roman collides into my back. I nearly fall, but he drops my hand and grips my waist to steady me, his fingers digging into my black lace dress. Chills ripple down my spine as I peer over my shoulder at him. His gaze is intense, and all knowing, and my mouth goes dry.

I can’t stop staring at his eyes, letting his gaze ground me.

Hazel.

That’s what color he says they are, but to me, they’re more. Greens and golds, browns, with flecks of grey.

Beautiful.

“What?” he grunts, pulling me from my thoughts. I swallow hard and turn fully toward him, but he doesn’t remove his hands, letting them shift then settle once more on my hips.

His thumbs trace circles on my lace covered flesh, but he doesn’t acknowledge it and I think for a moment that he might be doing it without even realizing. The thought and familiarity of his touch settles something in me, giving me the strength to finally open my mouth.

“Ro,” I whisper, flicking my eyes between his, searching for anything, for something in his eyes that will tell me how he feels. “Can we talk about—”

“Not right now,” he says, glancing over my head at the group of people. He steps away and rubs his palms against his black slacks as though he’s trying to wipe away my touch. His soft expression is gone—my Roman is gone.

“But I just need to know—”

“Goldie,” he snaps. “I said not right now.”

The only real words I’ve said all day, the only words that haven’t been some variation of thank you for your condolences, and he shuts them down.

He shuts me down.

How can he do that?

Be everything I need and want, but take it away so easily?

“But—”

“No.”

That’s it.

Just that one word, that one declaration leaving no room for debate.

My lips part at the surprising anger in his voice, but before I can say anything else, he storms away in the opposite direction of where we’re meant to go, and I’m left even more alone than I was before.

I know I’m not really alone. I know I still have him, and Isaac, and my best friend, Olive, and her older brother, Chase. I have the congregation and my friends at school.

But I don’t have my parents.

I don’t have my real family.

As I watch Roman storm away into the thicket of grass and trees, I’m left wondering how I fit into his life. Where do I fit into Isaac’s family now that Mama’s gone?

Am I just the orphan girl he’ll take in because of pity, or will he send me to live with Grandma Jean, forcing me to start over in a new town once more?

Despite all the chaos and destruction that my life has become this last week, I find myself more lost than I’ve ever been as a single question permeates my mind.

Where do I go from here?