Chapter 34
Delaney
In the morning, I take a long hot shower and slide into a pair of jeans before searching for a shirt that doesn’t make me think of my old life.
The vintage band shirt is too big for my small frame but that’s fine because it fits the new me in a way the others never could.
At the threshold to the kitchen, I pause to find Peter standing there, sipping a cup of water.
All my life, he’s symbolized everything that was good and just in this world, which is why I don’t know what to say when our eyes meet.
The truth is that I don’t know him anymore. What if the Peter I grew up with doesn’t exist?
How do I look him in the eye knowing he thinks I’m a reckless whore who was fucking my boyfriend when my brother died?
“Sweetheart,” he says before opening his arms. “I’m sorry.”
Shuddering, I step into his embrace carefully and whisper, “Me, too.”
Of course, tears fill my eyes, and I sniff them back when he rocks me gently and says, “Sh. It’s okay, sweet girl.”
Is it though? Because there’s still so much that I don’t know.
With a sigh, I step back when Mom says from the door, “Okay, enough of that.”
Chuckling, Peter pulls away and pushes me gently toward the breakfast bar. “Sit. I made pancakes.”
Peter’s pancakes are the bomb and I’m so hungry that I scarf them down without bothering to spread syrup over top while they watch with matching bemused expressions.
After, they circle around, eating and sipping coffee. It’s blissfully normal and wonderful until Mom sets her nearly empty cup down and says, “Okay, we need to talk.”
Glancing down at my plate, I wish that we could just move on, but I know that’s impossible with so many unanswered questions between us.
Even if I wanted to escape the truth, it’s barreling down on me anyway.
Beside me, Peter pushes back from the table and says, “I’ve got a few errands to run.”
He drops a kiss on my forehead before touching Mom’s hair, but I see something behind her eyes that scares me, especially when she bows her head.
We’re silent while Peter grabs his keys and exits through the garage.
When she looks up, her smile falters and my heart jumps into my throat as I say, “Mom? What’s really going on?”
With a sigh, she turns and rests her chin on her hand, saying, “It’s complicated.”
What isn’t, I think but wisely don’t say, muttering instead, “Just start at the beginning.”
Her brilliant red hair spills over shoulder when she eyes me sideways before she clears her throat and says, “I was wild back then. When I look back on it now, I think it’s because I was lost.”
I sense her stare but can’t look at her when she continues. “I was broken. Confused. I loved Jason so much, but he didn’t love me back, at least not enough to leave the life I hated. Then he moved on.”
She chuckles and I shudder at the bitter sound as she says, “He married someone else. He chose her.”
I’m assuming this is Maddox’s mother. Although I can only imagine her pain, Mom chose to leave him and as far as I know, Joker didn’t leave the life for his new wife.
His wife also ended up dead because of it.
Shudder.
“Anyway, when I left him,” she says. “I had no choice but to go home.”
When she folds her arms around her middle, I touch her arm and say, “Mom?”
Her body trembles beneath my touch and I search her face for signs of drug use but all I see is a void behind her eyes. Whatever she’s remembering, it’s painful.
What will this do for her sobriety? Is she sober?
I don’t know but all the lies that came before brought us here and maybe, just maybe once she’s free of them, she can get better.
Am I being naive?
“It-It’s okay,” she manages to say, covering my hand and after exhaling slowly, she continues. “It was stupid, I was stupid because I was stuck. And the longer I was there the worse it became until I didn’t recognize myself.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, avoiding her eyes. There’s something lingering in the depths that scares me, but I can’t stop now.
The only way forward is to understand.
“I lost myself with drugs and…other things to numb the pain. I…did things that I’m not proud of and I can’t even say it was in the name of survival. I just didn’t care.”
“Why?” I whisper and she bows her head.
She’s been chasing her pain for years. Long before Petey.
If she supposedly left that shit behind, then what brought back her demons?
I’m not sure how to respond but she doesn’t seem to need my encouragement and looking over my shoulder into the past, she says, “I probably would’ve died if I hadn’t had you. You…you’re the reason that I left. I couldn’t be that person anymore, but I made the biggest mistake of my life.”
Confused, I cock my head, bringing her gaze back to me. She blinks and blinks again before I touch her hand and ask, “And you don’t know who my father is?”
“I was hurting,” she groans, covering her face. “I was in love. Joker…”
What?
“Joker?” I mutter, bending over. Please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t punish me like this.
Haven’t I had enough?
“Delaney? What’s wrong?” Mom says, caressing my back but panic surges up my throat and I slash my hand through the air.
Still, I have to swallow twice before I can ask, “I’m not…I’m not his kid, right?”
“Who?” she asks, her brows crinkling. Are you fucking kidding me?
A laugh bubbles on my tongue, but I suck that shit back and growl, “Joker. I’m not his kid, right?”
She rears back, her mouth thinning and my panic further flames when she merely stares at me before she finally says, “No. You’re not. Why?”
Thank fuck!
Sagging to the table, I suck back tears of gratitude or residual panic, I don’t know but suddenly, I just want out of this conversation because as much as I thought I wanted the truth, I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
“Delaney?” she says and I stiffen. “Why?”
I’m not talking about Maddox now. Hell, maybe never. Instead, I mumble, “Am I the mistake?”
She’s not stupid and she eyes me for a moment before saying, “No. I was partying. I was lost. By then sweetie, I didn’t know what day it was. I was existing and I got pregnant. You were such a blessing.”
When her eyes fill with tears, I look away. Was I?
Despite her words, I’m sensing a big fat something that she’s not saying, and I whisper, “But?”
Why? What could be worse than this?
“You saved me, little bird but when I brought you into this world, I made you a target too…”
A target for whom?
Staring blankly at the birds duking it out in the yard over something in the grass, I consider her statement, and I don’t know whether to mourn the fictional character I thought was my mother or fucking laugh because she was here all along.
Where do the lies end? Where does my story begin?
“Delaney, I know this is confusing,” she says, touching my hand but I pull away, fighting off the shame that fills my chest when her she bows her head.
Maybe with time, I can accept her confession but right now, I don’t know how to feel about it. It’s not like I blame her youthful self for making mistakes. I don’t but she grew up. She had kids and she slid back into something that ultimately killed my brother.
Why?
I want to lash out, but the words are like sludge on my tongue. Besides, there’s nothing I can say that will hurt her more than the fact that she’s here, admitting her sins, too fucking late.
“So,” I say, studying the pictures on the wall. “What about Joey?”
Whether it was for my benefit or to legitimize the lie, there’s been a photo of me with Joey when I was too young to remember on that wall. It’s fucking diabolical.
Pushing back from the table, she paces to the counter and back, nibbling her lip. After a moment, her lips tip into a small smile and she says, “Joey helped me.”
That asshole did something besides slurp on his beer from his lawn fucking chair. Ha!
When I snort my disbelief, she says, “He’s different now but back then…”
Then she shakes her head, trailing off, and I silently sigh. I think we’ve had enough confession time. Now I need time to process the shit ton of crap that she just threw at me.
However, there is one little tidbit that I can’t avoid and I wave my hand to get her attention before asking, “What about Ice?”
This is when she pauses and a chill marches down my spine. Her blue eyes meet mine with an intensity that sends me back in my seat before she says, “It’s simple really. I just need to tell him the truth.”
What truth? The longer she stares, her blue eyes glistening, the harder it is for me to meet her gaze.
What is she trying to say? Am I…?
Pushing back my chair, I stand and stumble toward the door, but I don’t know where I’m going, only that I have to get out…now.
“Delaney? Where are you going? You can’t leave,” she cries, and I pause with my bag in hand.
“Why?” I rasp, glancing over my shoulder. “What are you not telling me?”
“Delaney Michele Smith,” she screeches, and I shudder before spinning around.
“Does he know?” I don’t even know what I’m asking. There are so many secrets, but I guess we both know what I want her to say.
When silence is my answer, I turn back to her and she says, “Sweetie, I know this is–”
“You don’t know shit,” I say, slashing my hand through the air. “Did you tell him or not?”
“I don’t–”
“Stop lying to me!”
We stare at each other while she considers her answer and when she slowly shakes her head, I back away, whispering, “Why?”
“Because then he’ll hate me too.”
I don’t even know what to say. All I know is that I can’t be here right now, and I stalk down the hall.
“Where are you going? It’s not safe. Delaney…”
I don’t respond but pause in the hall when she says, “Please, don’t tell Peter. It would hurt him…”
Right. So, I’m supposed to take the blame for-fucking-ever?
“Don’t worry, I don’t want to hurt him either,” I mutter before swiping up my car keys and walking out the door.
Maddox
We got a lead on the killer. One of the women who saw Bambi the night she disappeared finally surfaced.