Chapter 24
Delilah’s pretending to be asleep when I come to bed. I can’t blame her.
What the hell happened tonight? She kissed me. Delilah kissed me unprovoked.
I dread a sleepless night laying inches from her warm body, too afraid to cuddle up to her like I want to. But my body overrules my mind and the exhaustion from the past few days drags me under into a fitful sleep.
I wake to comforting sounds coming from the kitchen and a cold, empty bed. I squeeze my eyes closed, not trying to fall back asleep, but to shut out the inevitable pain coming my way.
All I know is the love of my life, my best friend, kissed me, and I’m afraid of what it means for us.
Nearly ten years have passed since her lips first met mine. But last time, it was my impulsive actions that led to our kiss. I was furious at the kid who stood her up for homecoming and devastated by how hurt and embarrassed she must’ve been.
In that moment, dancing beneath the stars, my knuckles still bleeding from bashing his face in, I was overcome with a surge of possession. Delilah was mine.
Delilah’s always been mine. She’ll always be mine.
I can’t reconcile the possibility she might have feelings for me beyond platonic friendship—but last night has got me all fucked up.
When we got stranded behind a rockslide, the first and only place my mind went was to Delilah. Would she worry I wasn’t texting her? Was she waiting up for my call? Was she afraid when I hadn’t come home on time, or the next day?
But she’s been spending as much time as possible away from the apartment—away from me. Maybe she wasn’t even sleeping at our place and couldn’t care less about where I was.
I was safe but unanchored without any way to contact her. When I trudged my tired body up the stairs last night, I expected to find a quiet, empty apartment.
What I found instead was a broken angel. I can’t lie and say it didn’t feel good to see evidence she still cared, but I never want her to worry or suffer, especially on my account.
I intended to profusely apologize for my extended absence. Instead, she melted into me, right where she’s meant to be. Just holding her would’ve been enough. I’ll always take whatever I can get when it comes to Delilah.
But she tipped her tear-filled eyes to mine, love emanating from her and kissed me.
One moment’s all it took to flip my life on its head. I would’ve kissed her forever, but she pulled away too soon.
Why did she pull away? Does she regret it? I fall back into the moment, reliving every micro sensation. Her lips pressing to mine, insistent, hot, and greedy.
And I…fuck. I stood there like an idiot and didn’t kiss her back.
Did I really not kiss her back? God fucking damnit!
I fly out of bed and pace our bedroom, nearly ripping the hair from my scalp. She didn’t run away because she regretted kissing me. She ran away because she thought I didn’t want her.
Little does she know, she’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. I’ve been wrapped around her delicate finger since I met her. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.
Except, apparently, fucking KISS HER BACK!
How the hell do I have this conversation with her? How do you find the right time to have a life changing discussion? Is there ever a right time?
So instead of being the man she deserves, I tuck tail and move forward as if nothing happened. Just like I did the first time we kissed.
The birds haven’t woken to catch their worms, yet the sun still rises over the eastern horizon.
Reid and Izzy asked us over today for breakfast and for some help on the ranch.
Izzy will be showing Delilah the ropes—or at least the few ropes she’s learned from Reid—while I help him with some projects on the property.
Today will be the perfect distraction from the storm of emotions swirling in my mind. Time with Isabelle should offer Delilah a reprieve as well.
“It’s unreal out here, man,” I say to Reid as we work along the eastern fence line of the ranch. They’re planning to build a few small guest houses to rent out to guests and Reid needed a second set of hands to clear organic debris from the staked area.
“Nothing will ever compare, that’s for sure. All I wanted was to share it with other people. All Isabelle ever wanted was a place like this to escape to, or to call her own. We’re lucky to have the chance to make it a reality.”
“Not sure it’s luck. More like determination, and a hell of a lot of hard work,” I offer.
“Meeting Isabelle sure feels lucky to me. Couldn’t do any of this without her,” Reid says with such affection in his voice, I envy everything he has.
Meeting Delilah felt the same way, lucky, life altering. I sure as hell couldn’t get through this life without her.
A weird fucking bobblehead bounces around on the dash of his truck as he drives us back to the main house.
“What’s with the anteater?” I ask, unable to hold in my curiosity.
Reid chuckles. It catches me off guard because he rarely laughs.
“It’s an armadillo,” he says, a fondness softening his harsh features. “Did your sister ever tell you about Sam’s weird obsession with armadillos?”
I shake my head no. Quincy and I have a good relationship, but we’ve never shared much about our personal lives. Chalk it up to the age difference or her moving away, but I don’t know much about her time in Wyoming, aside from the basics of meeting and marrying Sam.
“A school project on the stupid creatures turned into a lifelong, hilarious obsession.” He sobers, because what a short life it was. “Now it’s all we have left of him, other than memories.”
We bump along in choked silence, contemplating the harsh loss of his little brother—my sister’s young husband—hell, my brother-in-law. I didn’t just lose Sam that day. I lost my big sister too. She’s a shell of who she used to be.
It hits me how alone I’ve been feeling. My dad isn’t all there anymore. Alzheimer’s is a real cunt. Mom lives for him and barely takes care of herself. Quincy’s buried in grief. Delilah and I are falling apart—and I fear our pieces will never fit together the same again.
“The land we just cleared was his, you know. Our parents gave us each a plot of land to build a home on and Sam never got the chance. Isabelle and I are building these cabins not only for our dreams, but for him. Someday soon, loved-up couples and happy families will make their own memories on Sam’s land.
My hope is his memory will live on forever in the memories made by our guests.
” Reid’s love for his brother shines through his emotion-clogged throat.
I don’t know how to respond. I wasn’t prepared for a deep heart-to-heart with Reid Andersen this morning.
As lush greenery passes outside the window, I wade through the dreams Delilah’s shared with me over the years. It makes me wish I could give her a home like this.
Breakfast turns into brunch, and we eat way too much. Mrs. Andersen is a fucking Michelin star chef, I swear. I’m thrilled to see Delilah poking in bite after bite without the anxiety that often plagues her during meals.
“Do you want the last croissant Mrs. Andersen sent home?” I ask back in our kitchen.
“No thank you, go ahead. If it was one of the mini quiches, you might have to fight me for it.” Her smile guts me.
I’d do anything, give anything, be anything for her to always smile at me like that.
“I’m sorr—” we say at the same time, the apology hanging between us.
“You go first,” I say.
“No, you go first,” Delilah insists, and it’s well known I can’t deny her a damn thing.
I drag in her sweet scent faintly hanging in the air, holding it in my lungs while I gather my courage.
“I’m sorry things between us are so fucked up. I didn’t mean to scare you these past few days. There was a rockslide that blocked us from coming home. My phone died, with no way to charge it.” I study her face for any hint of what she’s thinking.
“I was safe, but we were stranded until the emergency crew could dig us out. I drove straight home as soon as we could pass. All I wanted was to get back to…home.” I nearly said to get back to her, but I don’t know how she’s feeling about me.
We stand on opposite sides of the kitchen island, but there might as well be an ocean between us. I fear her diamond eyes see right through me.
“It’s okay. There’s no reason to apologize. Of course I was worried sick, but as long as you’re safe, none of that matters. I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Delilah says as a bashful blush colors the apples of her cheeks.
“Doll, you have nothing to apologize for,” I insist, but she continues.
“I’m sorry I…kissed you.” My heart cracks, the brittle string connecting us ready to snap. She’s sorry she kissed me. Does she regret it?
“I was so scared something happened to you, and I was so relieved you were home safe. I just…reacted. Can we pretend it never happened?” That heartstring is held together by my last shred of hope she doesn’t regret kissing me.
She looks down, a silken curtain of hair obscuring her beautiful face from me. I reach across the narrow island and tuck her hair behind her ear, allowing my fingertips to graze her pulse point and down her neck.
What’s there to say in this moment? We’re both concealing truths and veiling lies about our feelings.
“Sure doll, consider it forgotten.” My mouth turns sour at the lie.
Because I’ll remember that kiss until my dying breath.