Chapter 1

Cynthia

Friday 6.13pm

I tug my skirt down a little and peer out the windshield at the enormous warehouse.

Located on the outskirts of Hinton, the warehouse district has become home to an eclectic mix of people a little too eccentric to fit with the small town and conservative mindset Hinton is known for.

When my only friend in town, Lacey suggested an art class, I jumped at the chance, but as I look around at the peace signs on Camper Vans, a busker playing Bob Dylan badly, and catch the tell-tale smell of pot, I’m not so sure.

I climb out of the passenger seat and hurry to catch up with Lacey. “Are you sure about this?”

Lacey rolls her eyes as she pushes the door open. “It was this or the speed dating. And I know you won’t do that. Coming here was a compromise,” she says.

I frown hard as we walk into the foyer of the old warehouse. “Couldn’t we have tried wine tasting or yoga? I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in years.”

She just scowls back at me. “You need to get out and meet people. And in a town this small there are limited places to look. This is the cultural hub of Hinton and you’ve never even been here.”

I look around the repurposed warehouse. “That’s because my father told me not to come out here,” I whisper.

Lacey just shakes her head. “You’re a creative person, you need an outlet, and you also needed proof there is life after Aaron.”

At the use of his name, I flinch resulting in Lacey sighing loudly. “I know he hurt you, but you have got to move on. He has.”

I keep my denim jacket on and wish I’d not worn the dress I’d bought on impulse for the occasion.

It’s too sexy by far, and I have no excuses other than I’ve always wanted a dress like it, and it was on sale.

I refuse to admit to Lacey or anyone else it’s because I knew I could get away with wearing it here where there was zero chance of running into someone associated with my father or his church.

“I’m trying to get over him. But I can’t pretend I’m okay he dumped me.”

Lacey’s eyebrow lifts as she appraises me. “Aaron is a jerk. He always was, you just didn’t see that side of him. And if you recall, I wasn’t the only one to try to warn you he wasn’t over his ex. Your dad told you he was shifty too.”

I blow out a breath as we walk across the creaking floor to where a young blonde woman dressed in black is speaking to another one of the students. “Dad thinks everyone is shifty. That’s why I didn’t tell him Aaron and I were sleeping together. And can we stop talking about this, please?”

She shrugs. “Sure. But just remember you aren’t the preacher’s daughter tonight. You’re here to have fun,” she says.

I take a look around at the gaggle of people setting up easels. “I do have fun.”

With a snort of derision, she steers me to the back of the class. “Just because you are spending lots of time working with your sister, doesn’t mean you have to be alone for the rest of your life like her. She’s practically a nun.”

I sigh as I look at the flickering light above us. “You dragged me all the way across town into the warehouse district, so I’d be incognito but you’re talking non-stop about my family.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Sorry. I’m worried you’re so busy trying to be like Trudy, you’ve forgotten how to be yourself.”

“I’m not trying to be like anyone. I’m just trying to be the best version of myself,” I say.

Lacey just growls. “You need to stop reading self-help books. And for the nineteenth time since you came home, there was nothing wrong with the way you were before.”

I huff out a breath. “Not according to Aaron,” I say.

She groans and looks about ready to slap me. “Aaron dumping you was a blessing in disguise. You couldn’t be real with him. Or let your guard down.”

I open my mouth to protest but she just holds her hand up. “Don’t argue with me on this. You know it’s true. You have issues letting people see the real you.”

I wrinkle my nose in annoyance we’ve circled back to a well-worn discussion. “That’s because people don’t like the real me.”

“Yeah well, that’s because you’re hanging out with people who think they are better than you.”

I know it’s probably true, my self-esteem has plummeted since returning, but like I always do when she reminds me I’m not exactly the picture-perfect image of a good pastor’s daughter, I keep my mouth shut.

I perch myself on the stool provided and crane my neck so I can see what we’ll be drawing today.

There’s a couch with an assortment of pillows scattered on top. I’m still wondering whether Lacey has made an error when the teacher notices us and walks towards me.

“Hey there! I’m Britt, so great to have you both here tonight,” she says.

Lacey grins. “I’m Lacey Lewis, this is Cynthia Wyatt. We both live over in Hinton. I’ve heard a lot about you. Lots of rumors circling about you.”

I shoot Lacey a look, but Britt doesn’t seem bothered. She just smiles back. “Ah, yes. Gotta love small towns. But, yeah, I can guess the LGBTQ stickers on my car are causing a fuss.”

Lacey straightens a little, her cheeks redden, and I have to hide a smile at how flustered she seems.

Brittney’s eyes move to me, and a delicate line forms on her brow. “Don’t you work at that little art supply store in the mall?”

I nod and pick up a drawing pencil. “I do. I’d ask you to come by, but I don’t think Mary’s stock is quite up to this standard.”

Amusement flickers over her face. “You know your products then?”

Lacey interrupts. “She should do, she spent two years at art school in Baltimore.”

I’m a little annoyed at Lacey, but Britt’s face has brightened considerably. “Fantastic! Then I’m doubly pleased you’ve decided to join us.”

I’m about to reply when her phone rings and she winces. “Eeek. Sorry, I need to take this. I’ll come find you after and we can have a proper chat.”

She makes it a few steps before I catch the last snatch of whispered conversation. “You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”

I look at Lacey as the teacher hurries out of earshot. “Her assistant?” Lacey asks me.

I shrug and look at the sofa at the front of the class. “Lacey, you did check to see if this a still life class, right?”

Lacey scrunches up her face. “I need to go sharpen my pencil,” she mutters.

***

Becker

I grunt as the wrench slips and nearly hits me in the head. With another curse, I manage to tighten the pipe under the sink.

When I’m sure it’s tight enough, I haul myself out from underneath the cabinet and run the faucet to make sure it’s now clear.

Living in a renovated warehouse has its perks, mainly no one from Hinton comes looking for me here, but the old pipes, the wiring and the constant need for attention is getting to be more than a pain in my ass.

I let the faucet run for a while, listening for any signs I didn’t dislodge all the crap clogging up the pipe and breathe a sigh of relief it’s holding.

For now, anyway.

I’m packing away my tools when I hear a frantic knock at the door and a feminine voice. “Becker? It’s me.”

Since she’s supposed to be busy downstairs, I abandon my clean-up and grab a rag.

I swipe my hands and open the door to Brittney, looking more flustered than usual. “Don’t you have a class?”

She nods and drags her hand through her hair. “That’s why I’m here. My model just called to say he can’t make it, and I have a new intake as well as regulars tonight.”

I tilt my head to one side and can’t believe she’s even trying. “No.”

She scrunches up her nose and makes a begging sign with her hands. “Please, just this once.”

I choke out a laugh. “Nope,” I say.

Her shoulders slump. “They’re going to be really disappointed.”

I fold my arms across my chest and lean in the doorway. “Don’t you have another model you can call?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t have time to get anyone else. And I sure as hell can’t afford to piss anyone off. My enrollments have dropped by thirty percent since the church made a big thing about my ad for a model.”

I blow out a sigh and shake my head. “I’m not getting my kit off for a bunch of strangers. Tell them to draw something else instead.”

Her hands slide to her hips. “It’s a life drawing class. And I promised them a male to draw this week. Dammit, I knew you didn’t take this seriously. I don’t know why I’m surprised, no one else here does.”

At the slight watering of her eyes and the desperation in her voice, I know I’m going to have to jump in and save her, just like I always have done.

“You do know you’re a fucking weirdo asking me, right? No other sister would actively encourage her brother to get this junk out in front of them.”

She pulls a face. “I have zero interest in your junk,” She jerks her thumb out the door. “But they do.”

I shake my head. “You might be out of your mind, but I’m not.”

Her mouth tugs down at the corners, and I can see her chin start to wobble. “Don’t do your sad face, it doesn’t work on me. I’m not getting my tackle out for your students to draw.”

She chews on her lip. “It’s not like you’re in danger of running into anyone you know, is it? And you don’t have any hideous disfigurement, do you?”

I frown so hard my forehead starts to ache. “I’m not doing this. Period.”

She works her jaw and sighs. “Fine. I’ll have to see if they’ll be okay with drawing me instead.”

My eyebrows shoot skywards as I consider how likely that is. Given who I’m talking to it’s a very real possibility. “You are not getting naked.”

Her hands slide off her hips. “I promised them a naked body to draw. And if you won’t do it, I have no choice.”

I narrow my eyes and know I’ve just been played. “How long will it take?”

Her face brightens immediately. “Ideally a few hours. But you’ll need to stay still for twenty minutes before moving.”

I slowly shake my head. “Anyone asks, you held a gun to my head.”

She squeaks and throws her arms around my neck forcing me to hug her back. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! And phew, dude! Go take a shower, you stink!”

***

Cynthia

After taking an incredibly long time to sharpen her pencil, I have no time to ponder why Lacey’s now refusing to look at me.

Footsteps coming from behind me make me sit up a little straighter as Britt returns and clears her throat. “Sorry about that. I had a last-minute hiccup and Chris won’t be joining us as promised.”

A few people stir and talk amongst themselves, but she’s is quick to give us a reassuring smile.

“I’m happy to tell you I have a replacement model. He’s never done this before, so please be patient if he can’t hold a pose as long as we’d all like him to.”

My head snaps in Lacey’s direction. “A model? What—”

I have no time to ask her if she knew about this when I catch movement from my left.

A dark-haired man with an athletic build wearing only a robe is making his way across the warehouse and he’s looking distinctly uncomfortable as he tries not to meet anyone’s eye.

Heat starts to build as I realize too late what Lacey must have known all along.

This class is for sketching nudes.

I scowl in her direction while she struggles to keep a straight face. “Really? This was your master plan? Have me stare at a naked man for a few hours and hope I’ll forget about Aaron?” I hiss.

She looks decidedly guilty as the teacher leads the model to the sofa. “Oh, come on, what’s the harm? He’s gorgeous and you needed cheering up.”

A groan releases at how dense I’ve been. “This is not funny, Lacey. What if someone sees me and tells…”

I have no time to finish my sentence when the model locks eyes with me and all the breath leaves my lungs.

All my worst fears suddenly come to life as he looks in my direction.

I know him.

And worse, he’s staring at me with obvious recognition.

I fumble with the pencil in a vain attempt to not look at him.

What on earth is he doing here? The last time I saw him he was coming out of a meeting with my father.

I sneak a look in case I’m mistaken and catch a glimpse of his abs and sculptured torso before I adjust my easel so I can’t see him.

Cheeks now burning, I stare at my hands as the teacher gives instructions on how to best utilize the time we have.

Lacey snorts beside me. “You need to look to draw him, Cyn. Looking isn’t a sin, is it?” Lacey whispers.

I don’t even try to hide my annoyance this is a game to her. “No, but murder is,” I growl.

A man in front of us turns sharply and gives us both the evil eye. “Can you keep it down, some of us are trying to concentrate,” he says.

“Sorry,” I say.

When he’s returned to drawing, my eyes inadvertently move to where Becker is now lying naked on the sofa.

Despite my father’s best attempts to keep me one, I’m not exactly a virgin, and I’ve seen a few naked men before, but this man, this incredibly sensual man, is something entirely different.

My heart is racing, and my stomach is backflipping wildly letting me know he’s having exactly the effect Lacey had hoped for.

I might be struggling to breathe, but I am most definitely not thinking about the guy who crawled back to his ex when I wanted to tell my father about him.

I’m thinking about things I do my best not to think about. Things that will most certainly lead me into temptation. Again.

A moan slips out before I can stop it, leading to a stifled giggle from Lacey.

Ignoring all instincts to keep staring at him, I send Lacey a final scowl and make a grab for my bag. “I need to go to the restroom,” I whisper as I get off the stool.

I don’t wait for her reply, I move as fast as my legs can carry me, and even though I want to, I don’t look in Becker’s direction.

I’m so out of sorts, I know if I stay, I’ll do something I’ve spent the past few years trying not to do.

***

Becker

Well, that was a surprise.

The hot church girl is one of the students tonight.

Considering the speed she legged it out of here, she recognized me.

Since I have nothing else to do, I plot the ways this could come back to bite me in the ass.

As we agreed, the second I dropped the robe, my sister quit looking at me, and it’s just as well, or I’d be glaring daggers at her right about now.

It’s my own damn fault. I should have asked to see the list of students she had booked for tonight before agreeing.

My oversight could lead to a whole lotta trouble I really don’t need right now.

I stay where I am, in a fixed position, thankfully, Britt has me in a beginner’s pose whatever the fuck that means, and it’s warm, so I’m reasonably comfortable despite having my junk out.

After twenty minutes, I start to get sleepy, so I think about all the shit that might happen if the sweet little church girl tells her old man about this.

My eyelids are drooping, and since Britt hasn’t said I can’t nod off, I let them shut.

I start to doze, wondering if she’s planning on coming back and if her dad knows she’s into this sort of thing.

I’m vaguely aware of activity around me, and in my drowsy state, think I left my phone’s volume too loud.

But a hand on my shoulder and my sister’s panicked voice jolts me from sleep. “Becker, shit, trust you to sleep through this, Becker, wake up!”

My eyes open, and still dazed from sleep, it takes me a couple seconds to realize it's completely dark bar the phone in my sister’s hand.

And the old fire alarm is blaring.

I peer into the darkness and over the alarm hear a lot of anxious voices as Britt shoves the robe into my hands.

“I need you to help me check the building is clear,” she yells.

I snatch the robe and shrug it on as I get to my feet. “Get everyone out and I’ll go shut it off,” I yell back.

She doesn’t stop me as I carefully jog back to the staircase cursing the old building and the ongoing problems that come with it.

***

Cynthia

Friday 7.13pm

I catch sight of myself in the mirror and know I never should have agreed to come here tonight.

I take a breath, and back up, and know I’m in danger of allowing my hormones to drive me to do something naughty.

Something shameful. Sinful.

Just like the nickname I had all through high school.

Original Cyn.

Sinful by name, sinful by nature.

To counteract the desire, I imagine someone catching me and telling my father.

I splash cool water on my burning cheeks and neck in a vain attempt to calm myself.

Over the thumping of my heart, and the water running from the faucet, a high-pitched noise, and the lights suddenly going out cancels out the lust Becker’s naked form stirred within me.

I suck in a breath and turn the faucet off as I stumble towards where I hope the door is.

As my panic starts to overtake me that I’m caught in a self-made hell, I pull out my cell, and with shaking hands, dial Lacey’s number.

The alarm is so loud, I almost miss her answer. “Lacey? Hello? The lights went out!”

“Cynthia? Where the hell are you? Everyone is outside.”

I swallow hard and hate that my palms are getting sweaty and I’m close to panic. “I went to the restroom, and I got lost.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I catch the sound of her talking to someone before her reply comes back. “Cyn, I’m really sorry, I need to go, I just got a call from my mom. My dad’s been taken to hospital. I’ve told the teacher where you are, and she says someone is coming to find you. Try not to panic okay?”

I close my eyes and breathe out a prayer this is just a false alarm and I won’t be burned to a crisp.

Now lamenting not driving here myself as well as agreeing to come, I send up a quick prayer I’ll live to call a cab.

A quick glance at my battery lets me know I’m going to drain the remaining ten percent fast.

Panic now flowing freely through me, I switch the flashlight app on my phone and shine it down the hallway.

With no signage to tell me which way is the right way to the exit and help on the way I know it’s sensible to stay put.

I know what my father would tell me to do. Be patient, have faith and wait.

Without a conscious thought, my feet seem to move of their own accord. I have no idea why I’m doing it, but for the dumbest reason, my body seems to be disregarding my brain’s insistence I stay where I am.

Imagination now working overtime to compete with the adrenaline surging through me, a tiny sob escapes as I think of how my death will be written up on the papers.

Cynthia Wyatt burned in a fire. Churchgoers rejoice, say she brought it on herself.

My feet start to move quicker, my heart even faster, and cold sweat is trickling down my spine.

I repeat the words in my head in a desperate attempt to convince myself.

You are not going to die. You are not going to die!

I can’t stop moving, and somewhere in the recess of my impaired mind I know I’m probably running in the wrong direction.

In a blessed moment of relief, the alarm stops two seconds before I round the corner and slam into something.

I let out a yelp as my phone slips to the floor. Two hands grab my arms as a masculine voice growls in the dark. “Whoa. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

I’m so relieved I let out the sob I’ve been holding onto. “There’s no fire?”

He doesn’t answer, but he does hand me my cell. I’m so happy I’m not going to die I don’t even care I’ve cracked the screen and it’s on three percent.

What does make my heart speed up again is realizing who came to rescue me.

The flashlight in his hand provides just enough light for me to see his face as he replies. “No fire. Just a faulty breaker. You okay? You’re shaking.”

No longer caring about making a fool of myself, I don’t care my voice comes out a rasp. “No. I’m not. Please get me out of here.”