Fuck me. But no. No. No. “Why didn’t you tell me this on New Year’s Eve? What the fuck, Sid? I would have never taken you!”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you, dumbass.”
I clench my jaw, shake my head. “No.”
“No?” She no longer seems anxious. Instead, she’s got this look in her eyes like she’s going to kill me.
“No, as in I’m not taking you for that.” I throw up my hands. “Get a cab.” I have to draw the line somewhere. If Lucifer was hurting her, mistreating her…I could intervene. As it is, he’s paranoid and I don’t blame him. Truth be told, Jeremiah probably is going to come for her soon and I probably should have let him die for that reason alone.
“Why?” she challenges me.
I keep my voice hard. I can’t let her persuade me into doing this, no matter how guilty I feel. I’ve got issues with how Lucifer is handling things, but I can talk to him about it. He’s my brother. All my life, he’s been there. I can’t do this to him. “Well, I mean, you can fucking walk if you want to but—”
“Why won’t you take me?”
Alright. I tried to be nice. I hop off the stool, gripping the island for balance, feeling a little dizzy from my high. When I’m sure I’ve got a hold of myself, I walk around the island, coming up close to her. I lean down, so my face is level with hers. I know what I’m going to say next isn’t very fair, but since when have I ever been fair? Despite the effects, the marijuana seems to be leaving my mind too quickly, and so it doesn’t take much effort to get the words out. “You’ve fucked up my relationship with my brother more than enough. I’m not going behind Lucifer’s back to take you to kill his baby—”
She points a finger in my chest. “Did you know there’s a difference between abortion and what we did to Pammie? You’re smart, right?” She cocks her head, grey eyes narrowed. “I’m not killing anything except—”
I knock her finger off of me. “No. In fact, fuck no.” I clench my fists so I don’t go for her fucking throat. I wish Ella was here and then I hate myself for even thinking about it. I force myself back to the present. Sid. The baby. “This is not my problem. This is Lucifer’s problem. Are you fucking scared to tell him or something? You just said he hasn’t hurt you.” Nor do I believe he would.
And yet…she actually looks down. Her words echo in my head: He’s scaring me. What the fuck?
I take a deep breath. “Angel, you know he would never force you to—”
She snaps her head up, glares at me. “Are you married to him? Or am I?”
I straighten, brow furrowed. “I mean, I think that’s a rhetorical question, but please do explain what the fuck you mean.”
She shifts from one foot to the other but holds my gaze. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s nervous. But I know Lucifer, and I know he loves Sid more than himself. He might be losing his mind a little right now, but he wouldn’t ever make her keep a child, even if it was his...
“Wait,” I say when Sid doesn’t speak, “do you think...it isn’t his?” Oh fuck.
“Fuck you.” She makes to step around me.
Well, then. Nice talking to you, too, Sis.
But no. I can’t just let her go like that. At the last second, I reach out and curl my fingers around her forearm, jerking her to a halt.
She whips around, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “What the fuck do you want?” she hisses, clenching her jaw.
I’m not going to take her. I can’t take her. But there’s a reason she hasn’t told Lucifer, and I need to know what it is. I don’t think she’s lying. I don’t think he would ever really hurt her. Not any more than they always hurt each other.
But still…my mind races as I try to recall every interaction I’ve had with each of them lately. I’ve been thinking something was off with Sid, but after getting rid of Pammie, I thought she’d be okay. Before that, though…I was wondering if she should talk to someone, anyone, about what went down at Sacrificium. But then again, who the fuck is there to talk to? She can’t exactly see a therapist with that shit. And Ezra knows that, too, which is why he’s drowning all of his fucking sorrows in a bottle. Cain is burying his in every girl he can get his hands on. Every fight he can beat someone bloody in.
But still. They were born into this. They’ve had nearly twenty-four years to deal with it. Sid had blocked it out, escaped for a while. Been under Jeremiah’s protection. And now, now that she escaped him, she looks even thinner than she did when her and Luce got married.
Lucifer hasn’t mentioned it at all to me. He either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care. I would bet money it isn’t the latter, but his eyes don’t have the shadows hers do. They’re not bloodshot, and he’s not withdrawn like she is.
She’s back to being the saddest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Talk to me, Angel,” I manage to say when she looks like she might backhand me.
“Please. I’m sorry that I can’t take you to…” I glance at her stomach, “to deal with that, but please talk to me. Why won’t you tell Luce? I’m sure he would understand.”
She bites out a laugh, tries to pull her wrist from my grip. But if I let her go, she’ll walk right out and I won’t be able to stop her, so I just curl my fingers tighter around her.
“No, Bro, he wouldn’t.”
“Does he know you’re pregnant?”
She chews her bottom lip and sighs, her arm going limp in my grip. “Pretty much.”
“Pretty much? I’m pretty fucking sure that’s a yes or no question.”
“He knows, but we haven’t discussed it.”
“Okay, Angel, this shit isn’t making any sense—”
“I don’t want to talk about it with him. But he knows me well enough to know.”
Whatever. “And is he…excited?”
She nods. “Yeah. That’s the problem. He’s…he’s fucking over the moon.”
When did he find out? I want to ask. Was it before or after he was getting a hardon from a random chick at Liber? I push those thoughts aside. They’ll only upset her more.
“Okay.” I try to understand this from her point of view. “I can understand you don’t want to upset him, but if you get an abortion behind his back, don’t you think that’s going to be…worse?”
“No fucking shit,” she says through narrowed eyes.
I run my hand over my face, and then before I can get a fucking hold of myself, I back her up against the fridge, my hands on her shoulders.
She looks startled, as if during the course of this soul-baring conversation, she forgot just how careless I can fucking be.
“Sid,” I say through gritted teeth. “I know you’re going through a lot. I know you’re scared. And I know you’re adjusting to an entirely different world. But guess what, Angel? You’re not the only one going through some shit, alright? So can you watch how you fucking talk to me, for just one goddamn minute?” I’m breathing hard and so is she, and for one split second, just like at Liber, for one terrible moment, I wish she wasn’t who she was. I wish we didn’t share blood. I wish she wasn’t my brother’s wife, and I fucking wish she wasn’t pregnant with his fucking child.