22. Delilah
DELILAH
Kane spends the rest of the day being ominously quiet.
I try to ignore it. Give him his space. Busy myself with cooking and laughing at Zara's shenanigans along with Priya and, occasionally, Niko.
Kane's brooding casts a dark cloud over the festivities, but the others don't seem to pay it much mind. Only me.
After the fireworks, Kane disappears outright.
I find him in his bedroom. He's standing by the window with his phone in his hand, staring at the dark water like he expects someone to appear.
"Hey," I say from the doorway.
He turns. "Hey."
I cross to the bed and sit on the edge, pulling my phone out. "I downloaded the photos Priya's cousin sent. The place looks amazing."
Kane doesn't move from the window.
I open the first image—a wide shot of the rental house, all cedar shingles and wraparound porch, nestled between tall pines with the lake glittering behind it. "Look at this deck. We could have breakfast out there every morning."
Still nothing.
I scroll to the next photo. "And there's a fire pit. We could make s'mores. Very romantic."
"Lilah—"
"And there's a little beach with kayaks we can use. Priya says the water's really clear. You can see all the way to the bottom."
"We need to cancel."
I stop scrolling. "What?"
"The trip. We need to cancel it."
I wait for the punchline. When it doesn't come, I say, "You're serious."
"Yes."
"Why?"
He turns to face me fully. "Because I don't know who those men in the boat were, and I can't protect you in Poconos the way I can in my territory."
I set my phone down slowly. "Okay. So we pick another place."
"That's not what I'm saying."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I want you to stay in the city."
The words hang there between us, flat and final.
I stand. "You want me to cancel our trip because you're worried."
"Yes."
"And you think the solution is for me to just stay home."
"For now, yes."
"For how long?"
His jaw works like he's trying to find the right words.
"Until we know who's behind the surveillance," he finally says. "Until I'm sure it's safe."
"Safe according to whom? You?"
"Yes."
I cross my arms. "When did I become someone who needed your permission to go on vacation?"
"That's not what this is."
"Then what is it? Because it sounds a lot like you telling me where I can and can't go."
"I'm trying to keep you alive."
"By locking me up?"
"By asking you not to put yourself somewhere I can't reach you in time if something happens."
"Nothing is going to happen."
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you!" My voice rises. "You're scared because men in a boat took some pictures, so now I'm supposed to cancel my trip and sit at home like a good girl until you decide it's safe for me to leave?"
"I already spent one week wondering if you'd come back alive," Kane says, his voice going rough. "I'm not doing it again."
I take a breath. Then another. "I know you were scared."
"Then why are you fighting me on this?"
"Because I spent that week in a basement.
" My throat tightens. "I spent seven days chained to a chair wondering if Vetrov was going to let me go or if I was going to die in that room.
And I'm not going to keep living like I'm still there, Kane.
I'm not going to let him decide when I can leave my own house or take a trip with my boyfriend or do anything that feels normal. "
"This isn't about Vetrov."
"Yes, it is. It's about you being so afraid of losing me that you're trying to control where I go and what I do, and I can't live like that."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"By telling me I can't go to the Poconos?" I shake my head. "That's not protection. That's just locking me up in a different cage."
His hands flex at his sides. "What do you want me to say, Lilah? That I'm fine with you being exposed in a location I can't secure? That I'll just smile and wave while you drive away to a house with three open water approaches and no perimeter?"
"I want you to trust me to make my own decisions."
"I do trust you."
"No, you don't. If you did, you wouldn't be asking me to cancel."
"This isn't about trust."
"Then what is it about?"
"It's about the fact that I can't go through that again!" His voice cracks. "I can't sit in this house wondering if someone took you. I can't wait by the phone hoping for a ransom call. I can't—"
He stops. Turns away.
I watch his shoulders rise and fall with slow, measured breaths.
"Kane," I say.
"I know what you went through." His voice is hoarse.
"I know you're the one who was there. But I'm the one who found your phone in the alley with blood on it.
I'm the one who signed away twenty years of work in one night because the alternative was letting you die.
And I can't—" He stops again. "I can't go through that again, Lilah. I just can't."
My chest aches. Because I understand what he's saying. I do.
But understanding doesn't make it okay.
"So what?" I ask. "I just stay home forever because you're afraid?"
"No. Just until we know it's safe."
"And when will that be? A week? A month? A year?" I step closer. "When does your fear stop dictating my life?"
"That's not fair."
"It's completely fair. You're asking me to give up something I want because you're scared. And I get it, Kane. I really do. But I can't keep proving I love you by sacrificing things that matter to me."
"You think this trip matters more than what you're putting me through?"
The question stops me cold.
Because that's not what I said. That's not what I meant.
But I can see it in his face—the belief that if I loved him enough, I'd stay. That choosing to go is choosing the trip over him.
"That's not what this is," I say.
"Isn't it?"
"No. This is me refusing to let fear run my life. Yours or mine." My voice shakes. "I love you, Kane. But I can't be the person who stays home because you're worried. I tried that with Connor and it broke me."
"I'm not Connor."
"I know. But you're asking me to do the same thing he did—make myself smaller so you feel better."
"That's not—" He stops. Scrubs a hand over his face. "I'm not asking you to be smaller. I'm asking you to be safe."
"By staying where you can see me."
"Yes."
"That's the same thing."
We lock eyes across the space of his bedroom. The bed between us might as well be a canyon.
After a moment, Kane says, "What if I put an armed escort on you?"
"What?"
"Discreet protection. They stay out of sight but close enough to respond if something happens. You get your trip. I get to sleep at night. It won't be half as romantic, but at least it'll be a compromise."
I want to say yes. I want to meet him halfway. But I'm thinking about the way he waited by the window today, watching for threats that never came. The way he pulled me inside when the men in the boat appeared.
The way he's looking at me now, like I'm already gone.
"I don't think so," I say.
His face shutters. "Okay."
"Kane—"
"It's fine. Go have your trip." He moves toward the door. "I'll sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight."
"You don't have to—"
"Yeah, I do."
He's almost to the hallway when I say, "I'm not trying to hurt you."
He stops but doesn't turn around. "I know. Neither was I. But that doesn't mean it didn't happen anyway."
Then he's gone.
I stand there in his bedroom, staring at the space where he was.
My phone lights up. Priya, asking if I'm okay and—almost telepathically—if the Poconos trip is still on.
I don't know how to answer.
I cross to the window and look out at the dark water. The lake is calm now. No boats. No men with cameras. Just the reflection of the moon rippling across the surface.
Kane's afraid of what might happen out there.
I'm afraid of what happens if I let that fear win.
I pick up my phone and text Priya back: All good. Trip still on.
Then I look around.
The master bedroom feels too big without him. Too quiet. I climb into bed and pull up the photos from today on my phone.
There's one of Kane and me by the grill, his arm around my waist while I hold up a spatula like I'm making a point. We're both laughing. He's looking at me like I'm the only person in the world.
I look at that photo until my eyes blur.
I miss that version of him. The one who was happy just to be standing next to me. Who laughed at my jokes and let me call him boyfriend in front of everyone and pulled me onto his lap when I got bossy.
That version existed six hours ago.
Now he's in a different room, imagining every way someone could hurt me, and asking me to give up a week at a lake house because his fear is louder than my need for normal.
I save the photo and set my phone on the nightstand.
Then I roll onto my side and fix my gaze on the wall, trying not to think about the fact that Kane is probably doing the same thing three doors down.
My chest hurts.
I want to go to him. I want to climb into his bed and tell him I'll stay. That I'll cancel the trip and prove I love him more than I love being free.
But I can't.
Because if I do, I'll spend the rest of my life giving up pieces of myself every time he gets scared. And eventually, there won't be anything left of me to love.
So I stay in my own bed and miss him from three doors away.
I wonder if he's missing me too. If he understands why I can't just stay.
I wonder if this is the thing that finally breaks us.