Page 50 of Teach Me To Sin
The name Atwood hits me like a blow to the gut. Their patriarch, Gareth Atwood, was deep in my father’s crimes and Victor’s abuse, but all the evidence against them conveniently disappeared and they went back to business as usual, unscathed. If he’s here, it’s a power play that explains everything–the headlines, the graffiti. I need him gone, now, and I need to talk to Victor about what this means for us.
“Gareth Atwood is here?” Turning to face the room, I scan it for someone unfamiliar.
He snorts bitterly. “Of course not. It’s Bennett Atwood, the son. They’ve always kept him out of the public eye, but I went to Gareth’s house to talk about the contract war once and he was skulking around the place. They probably sent him to be discreet.” Picking up a champagne flute, he waves it toward a figure leaning against the wall, studying a canape like he’s lost the will to put it in his mouth.
“Wait, who?” I must have misunderstood somehow.
The man points again with an impatient huff. Catching the gesture in his direction, Benji glances up at me, forehead wrinkling in confusion. His eyes flick from me to my guest, then back to me. I watch all the color drain out of his face.
Everything starts to click together. A name that doesn’t show up on Google, his Rolex, the black SUV that dropped him off sometimes. How he refused to train with me, then suddenly changed his mind. How the people who want to hurt me always seem one step ahead of where I expect.
“I’m so sorry.” I offer the software developer a strained smile. “He wasn’t on the guest list; he must have slipped past the doorman. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll ask him to go.”
At the top of the stairs that lead down to the lobby, I turn and meet Benji’s eyes again. He’s completely frozen, not just confused but blank, like his soul has left his body. When I gesture sharply for him to follow me, he obeys, circling the room with his head down. I catch Tate’s attention and signal for him to buy me a few minutes before my speech, then descend the concrete steps. If anything, I feel calmer and more clear-headed than I have all day.
When Benji reaches the bottom of the stairs, he stops and doesn’t close the fifteen feet between us. “Alek.” His voice breaks.
I point to the floor in front of me. “Get over here.”
He doesn’t move, just watches me with the whites of his eyes showing like he’s an animal about to be shot.
“Now, Benji.”
His whole body wound tight enough to snap, he obeys. His gaze focuses on the concrete between his shoes. “What–” There it is. I only get one word out before the calm cracks and starts to melt and flow away into dark, twisted rivers. Now I’m not sure if I can speak at all. “Why?” I croak finally.
“Alek.” His soft, meadow-green eyes lift to mine, wet and pleading, like a stab in the chest. “I’m sorry. I came to tell you. Please believe me. But you were–”
“Stop it.”
He flinches and goes silent.
“How can I fucking believe you? You trained with me three days a week, you fucking…you seduced me, like we had something. And all that time you never thought to tell me the truth until you got caught? That’s a fucking joke.”
“It’s true! I told my dad I wouldn’t do this anymore, and now I’m here to tell you.”
He reaches for me, but I jerk back and push him away. “You had adealwith your father? For what? To help pedophiles and criminals ruin my life? What the fuck are they going to do to me next?”
The boy keeps wiping his eyes, but he can’t stop the tears trickling down the sides of his nose. “I’m scared of him, and I wanted to swim more than anything. I didn’t know you were so perfect.” Pressing both hands to his face, he sucks in a desperate, shaky breath. “Please let me fix this.”
My laugh comes out sharp and broken. “You can’tfixthis, Benji. You have no power to undo your mistakes. You’ve probably ruined several peoples’ lives, and you don’t care because you’re a spoiled, self-centered little boy who doesn’t understand that your actions have consequences.” Something hits me, and I want to puke. “When did he tell you to fuck me? Did he tell you to record it and pretend to be underage?”
Of all the things I’ve said, that’s the one that makes him look like I just punched him in the face. “No,” he whimpers. “No, no. He didn’t even know.”
“So you just did that part for fun, like benefits at a job?”
“Stop it.” He stumbles forward and buries his face in my chest. This time my arms won’t move to push him away. “I fell for you so hard. You’re the most amazing person in the world. I’ve never been in love before but, like, I think this is…with you and him… Shit.”
“No.” I grab his shoulder and shove him back. “Don’t you dare say that. You’re manipulating me. You know who else fucking said they were in love? My father, to the boy he was raping.”
He goes still, his eyes huge, just staring at me like I murdered someone with my bare hands. “I- Wh- I–” No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to breathe. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t fucking know.” I can only hear my own voice from far away now, like an echo across a wide canyon. “You tell me. You’re the one who knows how these people think.”
Benji or Bennett or the boy I thought I knew stares at me for one last, long second, then turns and runs out the front door and across the dark street. Trying to keep my head from spinning, I cross to the entrance and lean against the glass, watching to see if a car picks him up. Instead, he keeps sprinting down the sidewalk to the back of the swim center, the door I left unlocked so we can carry tables over after the event. When he slips inside, I wonder if I should send someone after him to make sure he’s not stealing or vandalizing anything. But for all I said, some part of me does know some part of him, and I truly believe he’s just looking for a safe place to break down–something I wish I had just now.
Every word of my speech has left my brain as I climb back up the stairs on shaky legs, but I slide my hand into my pocket and feel out the comforting shape of my notecards. For once, being too thorough has paid off. I just need to read the words on the slips of paper and keep my voice strong for fifteen minutes. Then I can tell Tate I have to go, have a complete breakdown in my silent condo, and start coming up with a plan to mitigate the damage Bennett Atwood has done. A way to keep my world safe from the wolves.
Fifteen minutes.