Chapter 15 Delilah
DELILAH
Iend up drinking half of the water by the time the window reopens, tugging the collar.
My attempt at rationing it failed, but I can’t apologize when he’s exhausted, unable to open his eyes fully like the weight of his lashes are dragging his eyelids down.
His muscles are more pronounced as he places a bag on the ledge, even the veins over his biceps and forearms stick out more than they used to while he adjusts the leg of his sweatpants.
Then he smiles. I’ve always loved his smile, it would change depending on who he was around. If he was uncomfortable, he’d smile without his cheeks lifting. Now his smile flickers, growing and dimming with each breath he takes like a separate entity.
He gently picks up the empty water bottle, careful not to press against the plastic sides as he says, “Drink up, koukla mou.”
I don’t know if it’s safe to talk to him with the window open, so I watch him as I take one last sip then pass it back. He tucks the bottles into his pockets as he gestures to the bag. “I made you some sandwiches.”
He’s like an amalgamation of the Kane I knew, Ghost, and this new version—carrying bone-deep sadness. The smile fades as he turns, slipping out from the drapes to refill the bottles. I stare at the spot he left, specifically at the way he’s tied the leash to the window handle.
Why is loving someone so fucking hard?
All the love I held for him was because he was better than me, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.
But he did hurt me, he planned it, and he tried to kill me.
Yet historic, innocent love tells me to forgive him, attempting to rationalize his actions when he’s not offering an excuse.
It wasn’t Kane who did those things, it was the situation.
It was Kane who pretended to be Asher. It was Kane who made me think I was crazy while he had a masked alter ego. He built an illusion of a life out of misplaced hate, which I can’t ignore.
He comes back, dumping the refilled bottles into the bag as he climbs out of the window to sit beside me.
I examine him, picking his characteristics apart, sorting them between the old Kane, Ghost, and this new version.
He places me on his thigh—the old Kane—as he closes the window behind him then slides to the side furthest from the window opening.
The leash is still trapped, increasing the pressure around my neck—Ghost. But he breathes deeply and pulls the bag across as he tightens his arm around me, closing his eyes—the stranger.
“Have something to eat,” he whispers, rubbing my arm to warm me up.
“Is this supposed to be a romantic picnic?”
“Yeah, I forgot the candles.”
“Given your track record, that’s a good thing,” I fire back.
“Do you know how beautiful you looked under the flames?” He laughs lightly, shifting his thigh. “You liked it. You love the danger—”
“The illusion of danger is different. Being left in a burning building was the reality.”
“I’m sorry.” He kisses my cheek. “I can’t undo it, but I am sorry. For everything.”
There’s no excuse to be offered. He fucked up.
All he had to do was talk to me to know I didn’t send him away.
The stupid Delilah offers one for him though.
You didn’t remember everything, so you wouldn’t have been able to tell him what happened.
I would have been able to give him enough information to prevent him hurting me.
Choosing the easier path, I take out one of the sandwiches wrapped in paper towels. I pass Kane one and take another, but he checks how the corner is folded then switches them.
“Did you drug this one?” I ask.
“No.” He unwraps his food, revealing little pock marks in the bread. It’s not very fresh either because I can hear him bite into the untoasted bread as I unwrap my own which is soft, bouncing back when I press my finger to the top of it.
“Why can’t I have it?”
“Helene told me to use the older pieces for you. There was mold on the edges, and I don’t want you to get sick.”
Is he crazy?
He’s eating stale, moldy bread instead of sharing the safe one.
I rip it out of his hand and throw it down into the water.
“You’re not going to get sick either.” Splitting the non-toxic sandwich, I pass him half as I lean against his chest. There are apples, bananas, and oranges in the bag with more bottles of water, a stack of dish cloths, and paper towels.
The discarded sandwich attracts screeching birds as they soar above the water then dip down to peck at it. I don’t want to think too deeply about what they survive on, but I watch them fighting each other for every morsel.
Kane wets a paper towel with the condensation collecting on the outside of one of the water bottles before he picks up an apple.
Using the damp tissue, he cleans the skin then begins cutting it with the same knife he held at my throat.
He brings the small slice to my lips as he whispers, “You always said it would hurt your teeth when you bite into it.”
“When I was eight,” I deadpan. “Because I wanted chocolate.”
“The stuff in the fridge isn’t labeled, and I don’t trust whatever the meat will be.”
“So we’re vegetarians?”
“For now. When we leave here, I’ll take you on a proper date. Steak and chocolate.”
I smile like a fucking idiot that has already forgotten step one as I bite into the apple.
“I’ll pick you up, open your door for you and after, what?” he says softly. “Nearly twenty years? We’ll have our first date.” He cuts another slice, but I shake my head when he brings it to my lips.
“We had a date.”
Pausing with the apple between his teeth, he cocks a brow. “When?”
“When we were twelve. We watched an old horror movie at a retro night, which was awful. You could see the boom in all the shots while they were running from the killer.”
“No, we didn’t. I got sick so I couldn’t go, remember?”
Asher.
I thought it was weird Kane didn’t mention me holding his hand while we were watching the movie, but I thought it was another reason he didn’t like-like me. In my juvenile mind, he was doing the kind thing by not mentioning it, so I ignored it too in fear of losing my best friend.
“It was Asher pretending to be you,” I explain, wrapping my arms around him. “That’s how he tricked me into going out with him.”
“Why did you stay with him?” I stare at his tight hold on the knife, anticipating it being held at my throat. But he doesn’t turn it on me as he drives the sharp point through the core of the apple.
“At the time, it was daunting to admit I’d been tricked.” I shrug. “I thought we’d break up after a few weeks, he’d get bored or I’d be able to make it less embarrassing. Then my parents were happy when they found out. I wasn’t a stupid girl irritating them, I was Delilah who made a good choice.”
“You were never stupid.” He hugs me closer, kissing my crown. “We were children trying to navigate a world we didn’t know was really a puppet show. There’s only so many ways a body can bend when there are strings attached.”
“I never felt those strings when I was with you,” I whisper, staring at the horizon.
“Do you still get jealous?” he asks, whipping his hand down so the apple falls off the blade.
The steel is covered in the juice, and he gently presses it flat against my lips as he whispers against my ear, “I have never touched another woman, only you. I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone else, so you never felt the strings because they were on me.
You control me, you always have, but you never noticed. ”
“What about the girl you were talking to in school? You took her on a date?”
“We were doing a group project, but I liked that it pissed you off. I wanted you to be afraid of losing me like I was with you.”
He drops the knife into the bag before he turns me to straddle him, grabbing the back of my head to seal his lips over mine.
The towel gets tangled, unknotting and slipping away from my body as he leans forward.
I gasp into his mouth when he roughly grabs my ass with both hands as my hair softly blows in the wind.
The towel is ripped away as the wind picks up and my chest heaves from Kane’s hungry stare. He leans back enough to be able to see me fully, slowly raking his gaze down my exposed body. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”
He rests against the window, handing me a bottle of water. I expect him to take out his own when he reaches back into the bag, but he lifts a large jar hidden beneath the dish cloths.
“Why do you have coconut oil?” I ask, resting the cool edge of the bottle on my bottom lip.
“Prison rules. You learn how to keep your skin from drying out when you have no money left.”
It’s the first time he’s spoken about being in prison without screaming at me.
Rather than ask him questions, I drink my water as he unscrews the lid and uses two fingers to take a solid piece of the coconut oil.
He warms it between his hands and my shoulders before softly massaging it in.
There’s not so much that I slip or it’s uncomfortable as he nudges the bottom of the bottle, forcing me to drink more.
Once I’ve finished, he gently moisturizes my lips with the residual oil left on his finger.
Step one is don’t fall in love with him, but I can kiss him. Kissing isn’t love, so I grab his nape, kissing him for the exact same reason I did the first time: he cares about me and I want to feel more of it.