These Wicked Obsessions (Wicked Sins #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

Grey

“Please, is there any way we can fix this?” My caregiver—well, ex-caregiver now—shakes her head at my sister, about as done with this as I am. Good old number seven. Eight? Maybe she’s the eighth. Sixth? I don’t know. I don’t keep track anymore.

What I do know is that my sister will hand me my ass after Colleen leaves, but I am not sad to see her go. My sister may only be five foot three, but she takes self-defense classes, and worst of all?

She’s a pincher.

I really don’t know why Alyssa insisted we all have this meeting. I’m done. She’s done. I know Alyssa wants to talk her into staying, but there’s no way I’m letting her stay here. “I told you she’s fired. I want her out of here.” Alyssa’s blue-green eyes scorch into mine.

Same look Mom used to give me when I did something well and truly stupid.

Damn, I miss those looks.

Her manicured fingers clench at her sides.

Oh, yep, I am in trouble. You’d think being a six-foot-five hockey player I wouldn’t be afraid of this tiny woman, but you’d be wrong.

You’ve never seen this hyena after you’ve eaten her pint of ice cream because she was taking too long to eat it herself and you were hungry. Feral doesn’t touch it.

She rips her thick strawberry-blond hair out of its holder, shakes it out, then throws it back up into a messy bun. The “I mean business” bun.

I’m in trouble.

She used to do this when she was a teenager. It’s what I call her fighting stance. She throws her hair up in a bun, then I watch her hip jut out.

Oh yup. I’m fucked.

My sister is eight years younger than me, and if you think that means I was spared her wrath growing up, you’re mistaken. My sister is five foot three inches of pure attitude, grit, and fire. It’s where her daughter gets it.

Good luck, Landon.

“There has to be something I can do. How much trouble can he really be?” she pleads.

Colleen snorts. Screw you, Colleen. “I’m sorry, Ms. Tremblay, he’s impossible, and rude.” She glares at me.

Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to be kind to the woman stealing my shit?

I’m not absolutely positive, but I suspected last week.

I placed one of my cameras inside my office and confirmed what I’d thought as I watched her going through my things and pocketing a very expensive watch I’d gotten as a gift during the Olympics in ’18.

She’d also been allowing her friends over without asking, as well as her eldest son, giving them all tours of my house as if she lived here. She acted like this was her space. It made me uneasy. I don’t like strangers in my home, but I agreed to a full-time caregiver to ease Alyssa’s mind.

I should probably tell my sister, but I just don’t have the energy to care about it.

I just want her to go. A few days ago, I confronted her about the watch and she denied it—even with the footage, she denied it.

She was just cleaning. I’d insulted her, she said.

Yeah, well, insult or not, where the hell is that watch? Probably on some website now.

“Please, is there any way? There must have been a misunderstanding. Maybe if we—”

“The only misunderstanding is that you believe he’s a good person. He’s an asshole.”

Okay, asshole is a bit much. I just don’t like her touching me, or talking to me, or telling me what to do.

If she hadn’t done those three things—oh, and stolen—if she hadn’t done any of that, we would have gotten along just fine!

“Thank you for coming.” I grin at her. She flips me off and is out the door before I can say, “Oh no, wait, don’t go. ”

I watch Alyssa standing in the middle of my living room.

Lianna isn’t here, and I really wish I had the buffer.

Not that she brings her over much anymore.

I hate that I’m happy about that. It’s not that I don’t want to see her—honestly, I’m dying to—I just don’t want her to see me like this.

I haven’t exactly felt like me since the accident.

Accident.

I snort, which makes Alyssa’s fiery gaze whip to me.

Oh, if looks could burn, I’d be a human torch right now.

It’s crazy how our much mother looks like Alyssa now.

The same shade of strawberry blond. Mine is more dirty blond from our father.

The same blue-green eyes as her. Right now, they’re more green than blue, blazing almost as hard as our mother’s would when she used to ground me.

Anyway, calling what had happened to me an accident would mean it hadn’t been on purpose. There’s a nearly seven-foot-tall dickhead defensemen for the Vipers who would tell you otherwise. It’s been a few months since Rome Acciari shattered my knee and ended my career.

At first I’d had hope, but after surgery my worst fears were confirmed. I’ll never play hockey again. Not if I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on crutches or in a wheelchair. The risk is too great, but the depression I have feels greater.

Her shoulders sag. I expect fire in her next words, but instead she sniffs. Ah, shit. “Greyson, I . . .” Dammit, here come the tears. I’ve done my best to avoid them. At least everyone else’s.

Guess you can’t really escape your own.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” My mobility is in the gutter, but still, do I really need someone living here? I’m not helpless! I can get around . . . for the most part.

Sometimes.

On occasion.

“I can’t be here all the time.” Her fists clench.

“This is the second agency we’ve been through and the ninth caregiver we’ve had.

” Nine? Holy shit how did I lose track? They aren’t going to allow anyone else to come here.

Not with your history. I need some help, and you’re making this fucking impossible. ”

Impossible. Please. Everyone else around me is making my life impossible.

I just want to be left alone. No one understands this.

I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want help.

I just want to be left the fuck alone. “Grey, do you know how worried I am? I’m so stressed out.

What if something happens and you get hurt and can’t reach a phone?

I can’t focus on anything else but you in this house, rotting away with no one to help you! ”

She could move back in. Even as the words dance along my brain, I don’t say them.

That’s not fair to her. Alyssa has her own life now, and I’m so proud of what she’s accomplished.

Teaching’s her dream, and this is her second year at the elementary school in this district.

For the first couple of weeks after my surgery she took time off to help me.

I can’t ask her to waste any more of her time here.

I can’t look at her anymore, but unfortunately, that means my eyes slide to the asshole sitting on my couch, who’s been silently stewing since Alyssa came here to scream at me. Dick.

Maybe that’s not fair. As far as men go, Landon is . . . passable. I guess. Passable enough. He’s a bit short for a hockey player, let alone a goalie. Short in hockey terms anyway. Six foot one in any other context isn’t short at all.

Now he’s glaring at me. I want to give him the finger, but he’s pissed on her behalf so I can’t be too mad. I like that he’s protective.

I just hate that he’s protecting her from me.

That’s always been my job. I protected her and our mother from our abusive shithead father.

I had to; the law certainly wouldn’t. Then when Alyssa got pregnant at sixteen.

Then when our mother got sick. I was the shield around her for so long.

I’ve always been the one holding everyone together.

It’s weird having someone else carry that weight.

Some days it’s hard not to remember the fear on her little face when our father would come home after a bad day of work.

I know we both can’t unhear the screams, the fighting, the flashbacks that come when we don’t want them to.

The fear of knowing that if the worst did happen, no one would believe or save us.

That’s what happens when your father’s the chief of police in your small town. No one ever believes monsters are among them, walking around dressed in everyday uniforms and masquerading as heroes.

My father died in the line of duty, and while our hometown in North Carolina mourned his loss, at home, we celebrated his absence. I was only thirteen.

When he died it was like we all collectively took a deep breath.

After his death I threw myself into hockey, vowing that one day I’d make enough money to give my mother and sister and eventually her daughter the easiest life I could manage. Hockey has always been my salvation, my passion, and my entire life.

Now it’s just nothing. It’s just this thing I used to do. It’s rotting me from the inside out. I breathe hockey, and now it’s choking the air from my lungs.

“Greyson?”

“Sorry, what?”

She sighs, and I don’t know. I can handle her mad, but guilt twists my guts a little. “I said I’m giving you one more shot. This time, no more chances.” I want her here. I almost say it, but I bite it back.

The truth is this isn’t the first time I’ve struggled with her moving out. Last summer she moved in with Landon, and it was hard because for so long it had just been Lianna, her, and me.

I’ve always been her protector and big brother. I love having her here. She may be younger but she’s one of my best friends, and there’s been this emptiness in my life since they moved out.

I can’t help but let that selfishness fester. I don’t want to do anything. I barely want to eat most days or have the energy to shower. A difficult task with my knee as it is.

I don’t want strangers here. I want my little sister and niece.

It’s not fair, I know this.