Garden of Sins

44. Donovan Wild, Alayna

Caden

Carter has been back for two days, Alayna, and he is as much a zombie as I am. Who would have believed that. Now our hearts are soulless and panic-stricken.

Mom is serving a big meal because Dad’s colleague Donovan Wild is visiting. He has been actively and selflessly helping search for Carter that Dad thinks he owes him something. He’s Dad’s little stepchild at the FBI, but he’s getting mixed up with the big boys even though he’s our age. Other than to search for Carter, I know exactly why Donovan Wild has been here so often. The reason for that is breathlessly sitting to my left.

Donovan Wild is nineteen years old, older than my sister whom he is currently fucking. I know that, but I haven’t used it against her yet. I prefer to save it. It has been going on for quite a while now. He deflowered her sometime in March in a rainstorm on his hood. No, Alayna, don’t ask me how I know, I just know. If Dad knew, this man would not only be headless, but ball-less. He certainly wouldn’t be sitting here in his tight white turtleneck sweater and dark jeans, not to mention the expensive silver Breitling on his left wrist.

Donovan Wild seems familiar to me, apart from the many times he has crossed my path, but I can’t put my finger on it. I do not like that. Even now, I scrutinize his prominent jaw, the coldness in his light blue eyes, and the hardness around his mouth. If Carter notices how often he glances at Ava, he’ll upend the table. Right now, my brother is rather stoned, but that wouldn’t stop him.

Mom thanks him again for the thousandth time for the help and Carter moans for the thousandth time because everyone made such a fuss about his disappearance. If I had spoken, I would have told them to relax because he always comes back, but they wouldn’t have believed me anyway. In general, everyone looks at me as if I’m going to freak out soon, but there’s no danger because I simply don’t feel like it.

“Why don’t you tell Donovan what school you go to, Ava,” I say. It’s better than freaking out.

Ava looks up from her plate and her eyes, now green-brown, flash at me briefly. “Excuse me?” With her braid piled high on her head and white winter dress, she looks well-groomed today. Is that lipstick on her little pout?

“Well, tell our guest, Donovan, what school you go to, Ava.” Everyone is visibly relieved that I’m me again and I have to say I’m happy about it too, Alayna, even if I’m missing a part of me. That’s you, baby girl.

Over the last few weeks, fu

Dammit.

“Caden,” Ava sighs, looking a

Mom shrugs. She is trying to convince Donovan Wild we’re a normal family, so she wants to avoid confrontation at the table today at all costs. It makes me laugh, Alayna.

Donovan Wild smiles. “So, Carter, where you been all this time?”

“Everywhere and nowhere. It was really interesting.” My brother seems to be remembering something, probably Isabelle Marino’s pussy.

For a brief moment, the icy blue eyes flash across from me. “Very mysterious,” Donovan remarks and it almost sounds a bit dangerous, which is why a slightly confused Carter looks at him, but he is already eyeballing my sister again.

“And, Ava? Do you like private school,” Donovan asks while cutting his steak rather jerkily. I don’t remember Ava telling him about her school earlier, but no one but me notices. Carter yawns and slides deeper into his chair.

“Yes, it’s great. We have interesting lessons,” Ava replies with a sideways glance at Donovan Wild’s spasmodic cutting.

“Really?” Dad asks skeptically and I grin broadly.

“Really? What interesting lessons do you have? For example, what subjects did you have the day before yesterday, you know, Thursday? Did you actually go to cheerleading practice afterward? Um, Donovan, she’s a cheerleader by the way,” I inform him. He glares at me with his ice-blue eyes because he realizes I know he is fucking my sister and meets her every Thursday. “She always has practice on Thursdays,” I inform him.

“Yeah, right, Ava, when are we going to see you on the field again? You haven’t shown us anything for so long,” Mom says proudly. “And I haven’t had to wash your cheerleading uniform in a long time either. Do you have it here?” Now Mom is frowning.

Ava looks like she’s dealing with a bunch of degenerates. “I always leave it in my locker, Mom.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t have a locker,” I say and stuff a potato in my mouth. Donovan Wild’s eyes darken and a vein throbs at his temple.

“And you, Caden Rush?” he asks a bit threateningly.

I grin broadly. “Yeah?”

“What do you do?” he asks.

“I study psychology. I love the human psyche. Did you know that when a person lies, their pupils dilate and they usually look down to the left?” I reply amicably.

“I know that. I work at the FBI,” he says unimpressed and looks me in the eye.

“How nice. Do you actually have a girlfriend?” I ask with my head tilted.

He keeps staring into my eyes. “No. You?”

“Nope. You know how it is. Every now and then, you have one in your bed, in the car, or on the hood in the rain – totally epic – or a virgin...” Ava now chokes and almost pukes. Donovan is still looking me in the eye.

“Yes, now and then,” he casually replies. I know, Alayna, that guy is really bad. My expression, like his, hardens.

“Well, let’s hope you haven’t fucked the wrong virgin on the hood,” I warn him.

“What the hell are you talking about,” Carter yells, seemingly pissed off, as if we’ve disturbed his daydreams, which probably were stuck on hood, epic, and fuck.

Dad frowns, apparently suspicious, but Donovan just leans back and talks about the twenty-one-year-old single girl he banged on his hood last week, right on Friday when I was picking up rolls for Mom, which is exactly what I was doing.

These are mafia tactics, but the FBI and the mob are practically the same thing.

“Interesting,” I say and rest my chin on my fist.

“You know what else is interesting, Caden Rush,” Donovan inquires and rests his temple on his fist.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me,” I purr.

“There was this little brown-haired girl I found interesting. I believe she’s nineteen and studying media design. Anyhow, I was about to approach her at the Starbucks outside the university one day, but a guy with Southern charm intruded. I let it go, but even today, I wonder if maybe I should approach her again.”

He tells me this just to make it clear that I’m not the only one who knows about other’s lives. Slowly, I grow angry and my neck muscles twitch because I don’t want him to know anything about you or to get too close to you. No one can get too close to you, especially not a psycho like the one sitting across from me. Then, I might as well have stayed with you in the first place.