Chapter 37
DELILAH
I'm sitting on my bathroom floor when I finally break.
It's not like in the movies. No dramatic sobbing, no sliding down the wall in slow motion. Just me, hugging my knees to my chest, staring at the chipped tile while tears track silently down my face.
I've been here for an hour. Maybe two. Time feels slippery, unimportant. My phone sits on the edge of the sink.
I keep staring at Troy’s contact details, debating calling him. I pushed him away. He didn’t want to go but I pushed him. He might have stayed.
I got exactly what I thought I wanted.
So why does it feel like someone hollowed out my chest?
My fingers move before I can overthink it, sending a text to the only person I can think of who might come.
Are you free?
Three little dots appear instantly.
Lacey
Omg yes! What's up babe?
I stare at the screen. What do I even say? I think I ruined the only good thing in my life because I'm terrified of needing anyone?
Can you come over?
Lacey
Are you ok?
Not really
Lacey
OMW
I type it out with shaking fingers, then let my phone clatter back onto the sink. I should get up. Wash my face. Change out of the hoodie—Troy's hoodie—that I've been wearing for 24 hours straight.
I don't move.
Twenty-seven minutes later, there's a knock at my door.
“It's open,” I call, my voice rough from disuse.
I hear the door creak open. Footsteps. Then Lacey's voice, uncertain. “Delilah?”
“In here.”
The bathroom door pushes open, and there's Lacey, in a bright yellow rain coat. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and for a moment, I see myself through her eyes—huddled on the bathroom floor, face blotchy, hair unwashed.
“Oh, honey.” Her voice is soft as she drops her purse and sinks down next to me. “What happened?”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Just a ragged breath that catches in my throat. Lacey doesn't push, just wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“It's okay,” she says. “Take your time.”
Another breath. “I fucked up.”
“With Troy?”
I nod, a fresh wave of tears threatening. “How did you know?”
She gives me a look. “Del, you're wearing a UMS Engineering hoodie that's like three sizes too big for you. You’ve basically been MIA all semester and whenever I asked you where you were, you were with him. I’m not a detective, but...”
I let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Right.”
“Want to tell me what happened?”
I do. I tell her everything—the initial partnership, the tension, the Thanksgiving visit. The messages from Brianna. The argument. The horrible, final text that's still sitting on my phone like a time bomb.
“I kept pushing him away,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I can't even explain why. It's like... it was going too well, you know? Like I could see it all just waiting to fall apart, so I had to break it first.”
Lacey sighs, rubbing my shoulder. “Oh, Del.”
“I know. I know it's stupid.”
“It's not stupid. It's you being scared.”
I look up at her, surprised by the simple assessment.
“Can I be honest with you?” she asks.
I nod, bracing myself.
“I love you. I have since freshman year when you lent me your notes after I was too hungover to go to class, and you didn't even judge me for it.” She shifts to face me more directly. “But you've never really let me in. Not completely.”
The words sit heavy in my throat. “That's not—”
“It is true,” she says gently. “After freshman year, when we stopped living together, I kept trying to keep that closeness. But it always felt like there was this wall. Like you decided the friendship had reached its limit.”
I stare at the floor, something heavy pressing on my chest. Because she's right.
“With Brianna and Chloe, sure, they're not perfect people. But at least I know where I stand with them. With you...” She shrugs. “You're always one foot out the door. Ready to bail.”
“I'm sorry,” I whisper, the full weight of it hitting me. “I've been a shitty friend to you, haven't I?”
Lacey looks surprised at my directness. “I wouldn't say—”
“No, I have.” I sit up straighter, needing to face this. “You've always been there for me, and I've kept you at arm's length. I don't return your calls half the time. I bail on plans. I'm... I'm really sorry, Lacey.”
She shrugs, a small smile playing at her lips. “It's fine. I've been busy anyway with Carter and everything.”
“No, it's not fine. You deserve better.”
“Del,” she says, squeezing my hand. “Listen to me. I don't expect you to be anyone other than who you are. I know you're not the type to text every day or do weekend brunches or whatever. That's okay.”
I’m confused by her easy acceptance. “You're not mad?”
“Honestly? Sometimes I get a little hurt. But then I remember that's just you. You need your space. You're independent.” She nudges my shoulder. “I accepted that a long time ago. I love you as you are, not as some hypothetical best friend who acts exactly how I want.”
The simplicity of her acceptance nearly undoes me again. “I don't deserve you.”
“Enough of that,” she says firmly. “I choose my friends. I choose you. End of story. And I'm not saying this to make you feel worse, Del. I'm saying it because I think maybe it's a pattern. And maybe understanding it will help you figure out what to do now.”
I wipe at my face with the sleeve of Troy's hoodie, breathing in the fading scent of him.
“My mom,” I start, then stop, not even sure what I'm trying to say. “She was never reliable. Is never reliable. Always promising things, then disappearing. I guess I just... got used to not counting on people.”
“That makes sense.”
“And Troy, he was trying so fucking hard.” My voice cracks. “He kept showing up, no matter how much I pushed him away. And it scared me, because what happens when he stops? When he gets bored, or tired, or realizes I'm too much work?”
Lacey shifts closer, our shoulders touching. “Can I ask you something?”
I nod.
“Has he ever actually given you a reason not to trust him?”
“No.” The answer comes instantly, surprising me with its certainty. “Not once.”
“Maybe he's the real deal, Del.” She says it softly, like she's afraid of spooking me. “Maybe some people actually stick around. Or, maybe he’s not. Maybe he will break your heart. That’s life though. You have to let people in far enough so you can enjoy the magic but then you also risk them hurting you. But you can handle it, babe. You’re so strong. ”
I think about Troy—bringing me coffee in the morning, listening to my ideas, respecting my boundaries until I all but forced him away.
“I think I love him,” I whisper, and saying it out loud feels like jumping off a cliff.
Lacey doesn't look surprised. “I know.”
“And I've completely fucked it up.”
“I don't know about that.” She grabs her phone from her pocket. “What exactly did he say?”
I recite his words back to her.
She makes a face. “Okay, that's not great. But it also doesn't sound like he's writing you off forever. He's hurt. He needs space. That doesn't mean it's over.”
“What do I even do now?”
“Well, first, you're going to shower. Because, sorry babe, but you're kind of ripe.” She wrinkles her nose dramatically, and I laugh despite myself. “Then we're going to order food, and you're going to tell me what you want to happen. And then we'll figure out how to make it happen.”
“That simple, huh?”
“No.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “But you're not alone in this, Del. You've got me. Whether you're with Troy or not, whether you fix this or not—you've got me.”
The words hit me harder than I expect, a fresh wave of tears blurring my vision. Because maybe that's what I've been most afraid of all along—being truly, completely alone. Unloved. Unwanted.
“I don't deserve you,” I say.
“Bullshit.” Lacey stands, pulling me up with her. “You absolutely deserve people who love you. And I do. And I'm pretty sure Troy does too, even if he wants to strangle you right now.”
I let out a watery laugh.
“Now go shower,” she says, giving me a gentle push. “I'll order pizza.”
“Lacey?” I call as she turns to leave.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For coming. For...”
“Being your friend?”
I nod, throat tight.
She smiles, soft and understanding. “Always, Del. Always.”
As I stand under the hot water, washing away days of grief and self-pity, I think about what she said. About patterns. About walls. About deserving love.
I don't know if I can fix things with Troy. I don't know if I'm brave enough to really let someone in, to risk everything on the chance that maybe, just maybe, he won't leave.
But for the first time, I want to try. Not just with Troy, but with everyone who's been trying to love me while I've been busy pushing them away.
I want to try.