Chapter 45
EIGHT YEARS AGO
DELANEY
Coming home to Cherry Peak feels different this time.
There’s something in the air that unsettles me as I drive into town.
It could just be the smell in my car from weeks of unwashed laundry that I’m bringing to my grandma’s house.
Since flying with all of my things wasn’t possible, I packed my car as full as I could so that I didn’t have to do this drive more than once.
That included dirty laundry and a few boxes of reusable containers with spaghetti sauce stains in them.
I debate turning down the road that leads home instead of following my original plan. I’m exhausted and could use a shower before doing anything else. Or I could just pull my big girl pants on and stop trying to convince myself not to do this.
Tapping the steering wheel, I slow to a turtle crawl. My turn signal ticks as I hesitate to move.
It’s getting late . . . maybe he’s already asleep. Or his parents are. I already had to ask my grandma for information on whether Darren moved back into his childhood home after graduation, and the last thing I need is to be embarrassed again by showing up and waking his mom .
A loud car horn scares me badly enough that I drop my foot on the gas pedal and jerk forward into motion. I flip the driver behind me the bird, but they can’t see it past the piles of stuff blocking my back window.
Turning even slower just to piss off the driver behind me, I take a deep breath and wring the steering wheel. The brown street sign appears, and my stomach twists painfully.
There’s a car on the curb in front of his house and two others on the driveway. I pull up behind the one on the road and stay frozen in my seat, terrified to see him again. The sharp ache in my chest is worse than the fear, though, and that’s what pushes me to get out of the car.
Over the last two years, I’ve missed him so much.
More than I think any girl in their twenties is supposed to miss a man without being featured on a documentary.
It was like losing a piece of my soul when we said goodbye, and what was left of it has flaked away piece by piece with every day we’ve been apart.
I can’t do this separation anymore, and I’m hoping he feels the same.
As much as I’d never wish pain on someone I love, I do hope he’s been hurting just as badly as I have.
I want him to have seen me in the faces of people he’s passed on the street and heard my voice in all of our favourite places.
That’s what I’ve been dealing with every single day.
Not even seeing my family in the crowd at my graduation was enough to make up for the devastation of searching for him, knowing he wouldn’t be there.
Two years, he said. Two years, and everything would be okay again.
I shut the door softly behind me and take slow steps up the sidewalk.
The light is on outside now that the sun’s begun to set, illuminating the porch steps that look freshly stained.
I’d bet Daryl has a list a million pages long of work that Pauline’s insisted he gets done this summer.
She’s always putting him to work on something, and he loves every minute of it.
My hand shakes when I ring the doorbell and gulp. I fidget as I wait, unable to stand still as nerves feast on my insides. It feels like forever, when in reality, I hardly have a chance to run my fingers through my hair before the door is pulled open.
“Delaney,” Darren’s mother gasps, her eyes wide.
“Hi, Pauline. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
“Oh, no, sweetheart. You’re not. We’re just—I’m . . . Darren’s not here!”
“Oh, he’s not? I’m sorry! I should have called first or something. When I saw his car, I just assumed he was here,” I ramble apologetically.
Pauline reaches for me when I start to retreat, her touch on my arm soft, familiar. The longing that hits in response is sharp on my tongue.
“Come back tomorrow, honey. After lunch, if you can.”
I nod, relaxing slightly at her openness with me. Even after four years away.
“Okay. Tomorrow after lunch, then. I’m staying at my grandma’s house, just in case he asks?—”
“Mom? Are you trying to hoard your bottles again? It’s not a sin to donate them every once in a while.”
I freeze, confused. This overwhelming feeling of pure dread swarms me, like a telltale sign that something bad is coming.
Pauline’s expression breaks as she looks back into the house, her nerves blaringly obvious. “No. I’ll be done in a second. There’s no reason for you to come check on me.”
“Too bad,” Darren grunts.
I’m not ready for the stab of betrayal between my ribs. His mom reaches for me again, but I step back out of reach. When Darren appears, I lose the ability to appear strong and held together.
My knees wobble as I set a hand to the exterior of the house and suck in a tight breath.
Pauline moves out of the way, and Darren replaces her.
His brown eyes are dull, but the pain in his expression is there .
. . so strong I feel the lash of it. The lingering dread grows in intensity, smacking me in the face, warning me .
“Hey,” I whisper, unable to move.
“What are you doing here?”
I flinch at the harsh tone. “I just got back.”
“Go home, Delaney.”
“Is this because I didn’t give you a heads-up before coming? If I’m interrupting something, I can come back. I’m back home now, so?—”
He lurches toward me, blocking the entire doorway.
The change in his height takes me aback.
It almost surprises me more than his mess of a beard or the thinning of his muscles.
Darren isn’t a beard guy. He’s a mustache or light stubble one.
Concern drives me to move closer and touch his jaw, running my finger over the coarse hair.
His eyes shut, and he leans into my touch, a wavering, pained exhale escaping him.
I cup his face in my palm and lean forward, needing to get closer.
To feel his warmth and smell his cologne again.
Only when I do, it’s . . . not the same.
There’s something wrong with the way he smells.
Like maybe he’s changed his cologne over the last two years. Only that’s not it.
I drop my hand and swallow past the lump of fear in my throat. There’s a stillness in the air around us, as if that fog of dread has lifted, the warning of its presence no longer needed.
Darren’s eyes flash open, and I watch in slow motion as his lips part around words I don’t want to hear.
“Let me explain.”
“Are you ready yet? We’ll be late for my appointment if we don’t leave now!”
It’s a woman’s voice. A woman who isn’t Pauline or Poppy.
Darren winces and steps outside before trying to shut the door behind him. He pulls on it while a head of long, glossy hair appears on the other side, tugging right back.
The woman laughs at him, assuming he’s playing some sort of joke on her when the only joke here is me.
“The point is to go to the appointment together . How exactly is the doctor supposed to check the baby’s heartbeat when the actual pregnant woman isn’t there?”
Like a brick through a window, I shatter.
“Give me a minute,” Darren barks, eyes on me as I stumble down the stairs and try to breathe.
He follows, giving the woman the opportunity to open the door. I look behind him, getting only a quick look at her before my vision blurs. The small bump on her stomach?—
I palm my chest and try not to scream. “It’s yours?”
“I haven’t seen you in years, Delaney,” Sasha says, standing at the top of the stairs with her arms crossed.
Years . Since we were in high school and she was hanging around the sidelines at every football game with a new sign every week with Darren’s name on it.
Shaking my head, I ignore her and stare at Darren, willing my tears to hold off just another minute. “Is it yours?”
“Yes.”
“The baby or the ring?” Sasha asks proudly.
I choke. The missing weight on my finger is jarring.
Darren speaks again, but I’m already moving. My keys jangle in my hands as I try and use shaky fingers to find the right one. I gasp a sob when I throw my door open and fall inside. The key stabs everywhere but inside the ignition as I blink past the tears. Finally, it slides inside.
His voice follows me, getting louder before I slap a hand down on the lock and put the car in gear. The handle pulls as he thumps a fist to the door. My name comes next, over and over.
I give a warning jolt on my gas pedal before the thumping stops and he falls silent.
A beat later, I risk running over his foot and take off. I only make it around the block before I lose the ability to drive.
Bending over the steering wheel, I scream. My ears ring from how loud I am, the pained noise bouncing off my suitcases and boxes. My nose runs, tears falling as I shake and let my pain transform into anger. Suddenly, I’m whaling my fists into the steering wheel.
The baby or the ring.
The baby or the ring.
The baby or the fucking ring.
I flinch away from the door when the handle pulls again. The figure in the window isn’t Darren this time. That’s the only reason I unlock the door.
It opens slowly before a familiar, gruff voice says, “Come on, Delaney. Let’s get you home. You can’t be driving right now.”
“Why did he do this?” I whisper, my throat scraped raw.
Daryl Huntsly wraps a heavy arm around me and guides me out of the car. I don’t have it in me to be embarrassed. I’m not sure there’s much left of me right now at all.
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, hating those words because I’m the one who’s sorry.
I’m sorry that I ever loved Darren in the first place.