Secret Sin

9

“Line up for two-ball passing!” My brother’s basketball coach's booming voice carried over the noisy gymnasium. I’d been sitting on the old wooden bleachers watching Gabe’s practice for the past half hour. Dad always made sure someone could stay whenever any of us had practices or club meetings. Now that I was older and not involved in extracurriculars, I’d become a monitor for my siblings. I didn’t mind. Gabe was getting big so fast. At twelve, he was already my height. Not that I was particularly tall, but I remembered when he came home from the hospital, face puffy with the tiniest toes I’d ever seen. With eight years between us, I was old enough to help raise him and took almost as much pride in his milestones as our parents. I watched the boys amble into position for the drill, pulling out my phone when it buzzed with a text. Bishop: How’s Noemi doing? It had been two days since I’d parted from Bishop. Two very eventful days, which had each ended with texts from him checking in. The day after he showed up at my apartment viewing, Noemi’s father had been killed by her husband in order to save her life. I was so damn relieved my uncle was out of our lives, but the event was traumatic, and both Noemi and her brother were shaken. Me: I think she’s okay. I’ve only talked with her on the phone. She and her husband had been holed up at their apartment. I didn’t blame them. Witnessing a parent’s murder, no matter how bad a parent, would be a horrifying experience. I’d thought about my cousin nonstop over those forty-eight hours—that and how undeniably sweet it was that Bishop had reached out each evening. I was certain Bishop’s Irish family had been just as busy handling damage control as my family had been. I’d hardly seen my father in two days. Bishop: Were your families close? Me: Our moms were twins, so yes. But we weren’t close with her dad, if that’s what you’re wondering. He was never around much. Bishop: Not even your father? I wasn’t sure what he was getting at. Was it just curiosity, or was he digging for information? Me: Nope. My dad can be a bit much, but he’s nothing like Fausto was. They weren’t friends. Me: That why you texted? To ask about my family? I smirked as I sent the text. Goading him was so much more fun than it should have been. Bishop: Careful, kitten. That sassy mouth of yours is going to get you s*****d. Jesus. My heart took a swan dive deep into my belly. Me: That might be awkward in the middle of the YMCA. I hear they frown on s******g. If I didn’t get control of my idiotic grin, the people around me were going to think I was a nutcase. Bishop: What the hell are you doing at the Y? Me: Brother’s basketball practice. My eyes bounced between my brother and my phone for the next ten minutes as I waited for a reply. When I realized I was acting like a love-sick i***t, I quickly tossed my phone back into my purse. What the hell was wrong with me? What voodoo magic did Bishop wield that he could undo me so easily? I didn’t even want a relationship with the guy. Why did I care if he called or texted? I heaved a frustrated sigh and dropped my chin into my hand, my elbow propped on a knee. “It can’t be that bad.” Bishop’s amused voice engulfed me as he lowered himself to sit on the bench beside me. I shot upright. “What are you doing here?” My words might have come off accusatory, but inside, I was bursting with exhilaration. “I was heading to my gym, which happens to be nearby. Figured I’d pop in.” “But there are two dozen YMCAs in this city. How did you know which one I’d be at?” “This is the one closest to your parents’ house.” He shrugged. “I could have been wrong, but I only would have been out a few minutes of my time.” I slowly relaxed, the adrenaline rush fading. “You have a habit of showing up places. Should I be worried?” He flashed a fiendish grin. “Absolutely.” I shook my head, fighting back a smile. “So who are we watching?” “The one in the red shirt.” I pointed out my brother on the court. “You always come to his practices?” “No. Mom usually takes him.” Bishop leaned back, draping his arms on the bench behind us. “Place brings back memories.” “You play?” I asked him. “Every day when I was a kid. Not at this same Y, but they’re all similar. We also had an outdoor court near my parents’ house that I went to a bunch.” “You still play?” “Not often,” he said with a touch of remorse. “I’m usually boxing if I have time.” “If you love basketball, why pick up boxing?” “Needed to know how to protect myself and fell in love with the sport. There’s no better stress reliever.” His eyes cut over to me. “Well, maybe one.” The dizzying swell of electricity sparked between us. No matter that we were in a smelly gym surrounded by strangers, that damnable chemistry connecting us refused to dissipate. I turned my now crimson cheeks back to the boys as they finished practice. “Doesn’t look like this court is scheduled for another practice,” Bishop noted, peering around the sidelines. “I happen to be dressed for the occasion. Maybe I could show you a few moves.” Oh, this was too good—an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. “I’m not sure jeans and a T-shirt are gym clothes. Besides, I wouldn’t want to keep you,” I offered, not wanting to look too eager. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” The cheeky bastard winked, and God, did I love it. I texted our driver that Gabe and I were sticking around a bit longer, then descended the bleachers. “Gabe, this is Bishop. Bishop, my brother, Gabriel.” “Gabe. Just Gabe,” my brother corrected. I smirked, knowing he hated to be called by his full name. “Good to meet you, Gabe,” Bishop said as the two shook hands. “I used to play and thought since I was already here that we could play a round of HORSE or something. We could show your sister how to shoot.” Gabe’s gaze shot to mine. I quickly hushed him with rounded eyes. “Yeah, that sounds great,” Gabe said, smiling wide. “Horse?” I asked. “Why on earth is a game involving basketball called horse?” “That’s just the word that’s used. Whenever someone makes a basket, the others have to shoot from that same location. Whoever misses adds another letter in the word horse to their tally. The first to get all the letters and spell horse loses.” “Gotcha.” I nodded sagely. “So where do we start?”