Prologue #3
“That tightness in my chest is a bit lighter,” I tell her. The slow exhaling and deep breathing helped to release the tension locked in my ribs.
“Thank God. I’m glad to hear that.” She releases a sigh of relief.
“But the sadness is still lurkin’, taunting me to cut and release the pain so I can finally be free of it,” I murmur honestly.
“That dread feelin’ is temporary. It won’t last forever and will eventually pass. Try to stay strong and fight through it the best you can so you don’t give in to it. I’ll stay on the phone with you as long as it takes. Think you can do that for me?”
“I dunno, Delly. I’ve been tryin’ for three hours, but the urge is gettin’ harder to resist.”
Do it. Do it. Now. Do it.
The words have been on repeat.
A part of my brain knows it’ll numb the pain and that’s all it wants right now.
Fuck the consequences.
“Oh, Luke. Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
I sigh, squeezing my eyes to hold back the scream I’m tempted to release. “I didn’t wanna hear the way you sound right now.”
Disappointment. Worry. Pity.
“It’s why I’m here. And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for callin’ before you hurt yourself.”
“I’m a fuckin’ mess, Delly. You deserve better than spendin’ your night with me.”
“Listen to me…” she says in the sternest tone I’ve ever heard from her. “I volunteer damn near every night so I don’t risk missin’ your call. And not just because I worry about your safety, but I need to hear your voice just as much as you need to hear mine.”
“You do?” I whisper in disbelief, my eyes watering.
“Yes…” she says softly. “It brings me comfort to hear you breathin’. I could hear it for hours and never get bored.”
“Like a dog pantin’ in your ear? That does it for ya, huh?” My words come out more flirty than I intended, but she must find the humor in it because a laugh escapes from her mouth. Though I don’t think she meant for me to hear it because she quickly clears her throat.
But it’s too late because now that I’ve heard it, I want to hear it again and again.
“I’d stay on the line just to listen to you snore because it’d mean you’re alive,” she says, not humoring my dog panting comment.
“If I didn’t know any better, Delly…you’re getting attached to me, too.”
My words are genuine even though I’m fighting a battle inside my head that feels as if I’ll never win. It’s armed and ready to pull the trigger, but the only defense I have is holding onto hope that I’m strong enough to resist.
“I think you’re right, Luke. I am.”
“Hello, you reached the Haven Grace prayer crisis hotline. How can I assist you in prayer today?” a sweet old lady’s voice I don’t recognize picks up.
“Uh, hello. Is Delly workin’ tonight?”
“I’m sorry, honey. She’s not. Is there somethin’ I can help with?”
That’s weird. She’s been there every Friday night for the past six months. We spoke two nights ago, but I already miss her.
“No, thanks. Can you tell me when her next shift is?”
“I don’t think she’s comin’ back, sweetie. Her little sister is in the hospital.”
My heart drops into my stomach. She’s told me a bit about her sister and how she’s ten years younger than her, which would only make her thirteen.
“Oh my God. What happened?”
“I can’t really say, but she’s in critical condition. And with her dad’s accident last year, I don’t think she’ll have time to volunteer anymore.”
She never told me about her dad, so I don’t know what happened, but now I’m worried about her and afraid I’ll never get answers.
“I can’t believe I finally get to meet this girlfriend of yours,” I say, sliding my boots on.
“She was two years below us in high school, so you might recognize her once you see her, but please…” Waylon turns, his eyes pleading. “Don’t be an ass. Or hit on her. Or—”
“Dude…why would I hit on her?”
It’s possible I did back in school, considering I dated around…a lot.
He pierces me with a look. “Because I know you.”
“I take offense to whatever the fuck that means!”
If we didn’t look alike, you’d never know we’re identical twins based on our different personalities.
Waylon’s quiet and reserved, my complete opposite, but in terms of relationships, we’re pretty much the same in that we don’t have them.
So for him to let me meet her after all this time must mean they’re getting serious.
“Just…don’t be obnoxious. She’s not much of a drinker and she’s been goin’ through a lot with her family the past few months.”
I stand once my boots are tied. “Me, obnoxious?”
He stares at me, and I laugh at his deadpan expression.
“It took a lot of convincin’ her to come out tonight, so don’t make her regret it.”
I snort. “Wow…she sounds like a ball of fun. No wonder she’s datin’ you.”
“And now your ass is stayin’ home.”
“Oh, relax. I’ll be nothin’ less of a gentleman to Daphne.”
“Delilah,” he corrects.
“Right. Like the flower…”
“I guess.” He shrugs, grabbing his wallet and keys. “Ready?”
Waylon drives us to the Twisted Bull. It’s the best dance bar in town, with western decor and a mechanical bull. I’ve been trying to master it ever since my twenty-first birthday and I’ve yet to make it past four seconds.
Probably because I’m always wasted when I attempt to ride it, but it’s still a fun time.
We walk in and make a beeline for the bar. Most of our high school friends who still live here also come out on the weekends—well, the ones who aren’t married or have children. Most of the crowd is college-aged, but we still enjoy coming here.
“Here ya go.” I turn around and hand Waylon his beer. We’re almost shoulder to shoulder with how packed it is. “Is Landen meetin’ us?”
“Yeah, he should be here soon,” he tells me.
Our younger brother is twenty-two and usually parties with us. He’s as wild as I am, which Waylon hates because then he’s stuck babysitting both of us.
Tripp, our youngest brother, is only twenty and can’t come out yet. Not sure he would even if he was allowed. After losing his best friend two years ago, he rarely does anything outside of work.
They both live with our parents and little sister, Noah, who’s eighteen.
Mom kicked Waylon and me out at twenty-one because she got sick of hearing us stumble into the house at three in the morning.
So now we live in the ranch hand duplexes on the property, which is way better anyway.
We get our own spaces but are still close enough to everyone and our jobs at the equine retreat that’s attached to the family horse ranch.
His gaze looks past me and his mouth twists into a wide smile. “Here she is.”
Taking a pull of my beer, I turn and watch Waylon pull a blonde into his arms. Then he kisses her cheek before whispering something in her ear.
Probably warning her about me.
“Babe, this is Wilder,” he tells her, then shifts his attention to me. “This is Delilah Fanning.”
I hold out my hand and she takes it, smiling sweetly. “It’s a pleasure to meet the woman brave enough to date my lookalike.” I wink.
Her face tilts with scrunched eyebrows as if she can’t believe how similar we look. “It’s great to finally meet you, too. I’ve heard so much already.”
“They’re all lies, I swear,” I quip.
“You’re saved by the burden of proof.” She smirks, but now I’m the one tilting my head because I’ve heard that exact phrase in that same sweet voice before.
One I’ve missed hearing.
And I do recognize her but not for the reason Waylon would assume.
Delilah…Delly. She gave me her nickname, not her full name.
Whenever the impulse to cut rushes through my mind, it’s her voice in my head I focus on. It’s not one I could ever forget.
I’ve called the hotline once a week since then to check if she’d returned.
It’s been weeks since we talked, but I’ve continued fighting against touching a razor blade.
When I get the urge to grab it, I hear her reminding me it’ll pass.
I hold my breath and exhale as I count down from thirty when my chest is tight.
I remind myself of our conversations and hold onto them when I’m down.
I even threw out the blades because I hoped I’d get to speak to her again and wanted to make her proud. In fact, I was living for the possibility of hearing it in her voice—have been dying to hear it—and now she’s standing in front of me and I can’t even tell her what she’s helped me accomplish.
“Sorry I can’t say the same. He’s only recently told me about your existence,” I drawl, turning my focus to Waylon.
And I was right when I guessed she was beautiful.
Fucking stunning.
Long blond hair curled into waves down her back, bright blue eyes that I can’t stop staring into, and luscious pink lips.
If she wasn’t my type to a tee, I might find this a hilarious coincidence, but her dating my twin brother when she spent half a year talking to me on the phone isn’t the kind of irony I expected.
I haven’t stopped thinking about her since our first conversation. It’s crazy to think how I’m not even that same person anymore, thanks to her.
If I believed in fate, I’d say that’s what made me call the same night she was volunteering and made us meet. If someone else had picked up that night, the past six months would’ve gone differently.
Although I still struggle with depression and the urge to cut still lingers in my mind when it gets bad, she gave me the strength and confidence to fight through it instead of give in to it.
Go fucking figure, I finally meet her in person and can’t even tell her it’s me without admitting I gave her a fake name. Facing her after confessing all my dirty, dark secrets plus the times I called her drunk would be humiliating.
And I’d have to pretend my feelings for her didn’t exist because Waylon deserves to be happy. He has taken care of me most of our lives and I’ve never seen him look at a woman the way he’s looking at her.
But worse, I don’t want to see that look of pity and concern that’ll inevitably flash across her face when I tell her. I get that enough from Waylon and my own reflection.
So I’ll say nothing and pretend it never happened.
Even if it kills me.