46. Delilah
DELILAH
I reread Skye's text three times.
Then, while Priya is in the back changing for her shift, I pick it up and call Kane.
He answers on the first ring. "Lilah."
"Are you still in the city?"
"Yeah."
"Can you come to the bakery?"
"When?"
"Tonight. After closing."
"Okay."
I spend the rest of the day anxious and jittery. At one point, Priya banishes me to the back because, and I quote, "You are a danger to the pastries."
She leaves just before closing.
Kane arrives shortly after I've flipped the sign.
I let him in and relock it behind him.
He's wearing a dark coat over his suit. His hair is disheveled. There's a cut above his left eyebrow and bruising along his jaw.
My heart drops. "You said you weren't hurt."
"It's nothing."
"Kane—"
"A guy got in one punch before Yuri put him down. It looks worse than it is."
I reach up without thinking and touch the bruise gently.
He goes still.
I pull my hand back. "Sorry."
"Don't be."
We stand there in the dim bakery, staring at each other.
Finally, Kane says, "Why did you ask me to come?"
"I wanted to see for myself that you were okay."
"I told you I was fine."
"I know. But I needed to see it."
His gaze softens. "I'm here."
"I can see that."
He doesn't move. Doesn't reach for me. Just stands there, waiting for me to decide what happens next.
And I realize how badly I want him to touch me.
"Can you hold me?" I ask.
Kane's brow lifts.
Then he steps forward and wraps his arms around me.
I press my face against his chest and breathe him in.
He smells like smoke and sweat, with a metallic note that might be blood. The thought alone is terrifying.
But underneath all of that, he smells like Kane.
And I've missed him so much it hurts.
His arms tighten around me. "Lilah."
I don't say anything.
I just hold on.
We stand there for a long time. Long enough that my legs start to ache. The world outside the bakery blurs and fades away, leaving only us.
Finally, I pull back.
Kane's hands drop to his sides immediately.
"I need to tell you something," I say.
"Okay."
"I told Skye to use everything Fisk gave you. Even if it implicates you."
He doesn't react. "I know."
"You know?"
"Gershon told me. Skye called him after you texted her."
"And you're okay with that?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because if Fisk's records prove you knew about the forged guaranty—"
"Then I'll answer for it."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Kane—"
"I'm not going to ask you to hide evidence, Lilah. Not for me. Not for anyone."
"But it could hurt you."
"I don't care."
"You should care."
"Why? Because it might damage my reputation? Cost me money?" He steps closer. "I'd burn it all if it meant keeping you safe."
My throat tightens.
Because I believe him.
I believe he would sacrifice everything for me.
And that's what scares me.
"I don't want you to burn anything," I say.
"I know."
"I just want the truth."
"Then you'll have it."
I look up at him. "Even if it costs you?"
"Even then."
I want to argue. To tell him he's being reckless. That he should protect himself.
But I can't.
Because this is what I asked for.
Honesty. Transparency. No more withholding.
And he's giving it to me.
Even when it hurts.
"Have you eaten?" Kane asks.
I blink. "What?"
"Have you eaten dinner?"
"No. I was going to make something after closing."
"Can I join you?"
I should say no. I should tell him to leave. That I need space.
But I don't want space.
I want him here.
"Yeah," I say. "You can stay."
I make us grilled cheese and tomato soup in the back kitchen.
It's not fancy. But it's warm and filling, and Kane eats every bite without complaint.
We sit at the small prep table, our knees almost touching.
"This is good," Kane says.
"It's grilled cheese."
"It's still good."
I smile despite myself.
And for a moment, I forget why we're apart.
I forget the lies. The betrayal. The weeks of silence.
All I see is Kane, sitting across from me, eating soup and smiling like we do this every night.
Like we're still us.
My chest aches.
"What's wrong?" Kane asks.
"Nothing."
"Lilah."
I set my spoon down. "I want you to stay."
He goes still. "What?"
"I want you to stay. I want to pretend nothing happened. I want to go upstairs and fall asleep with you and wake up tomorrow like everything's fine."
"But?"
"But I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"That if I let you stay, I'll forgive you. And then you'll lie to me again."
Kane sets his own spoon down. "I won't."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do."
"Kane—"
"I fucked up, Lilah. I know that. And I've spent the last three weeks hating myself for it. But I'm not going to do it again."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because losing you was worse than anything I was trying to protect you from."
I swallow hard.
"I love you," Kane continues. "And I want a future with you. But I'm not going to build that future on lies."
"What if you get scared again?"
"Then I'll tell you I'm scared. And we'll figure it out together."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
I want to believe him.
God, I want to believe him so badly.
But I'm terrified.
Terrified of trusting him again. Of getting hurt. Of letting him back in only to watch him walk away.
"I need more than promises," I say.
"Then what do you need?"
"I don't know."
Kane stands.
For a second, I think he's leaving.
But then he kneels in front of me.
"Kane? What are you doing?"
"What I should have done three weeks ago."
He takes my hands in his.
"I'm sorry," he says. "For lying to you. For hiding the truth about your mother. For deciding what you could handle without asking you first."
My throat tightens.
"I told myself I was protecting you," he continues. "That I was giving you one more happy day before everything fell apart. But that wasn't my decision to make."
"Kane—"
"You trusted me. You gave me a place in your home. In your life. And I betrayed that trust because I was afraid of losing you."
His grip on my hands tightens.
"I can't promise I won't make mistakes," he says. "But I can promise I'll never lie to you again. Not about your family, or Vetrov, or anything else."
"What if it's hard?"
"Then it's hard. But I'll tell you anyway."
I look down at him. At his bruised jaw and cut eyebrow and green eyes filled with something that looks like desperation.
"I don't know if I can do this again," I whisper.
"Do what?"
"Love you. Trust you. Let you in."
"Then don't. Not yet. Just let me stay. Let me prove I can keep my word."
"For how long?"
"As long as it takes."
My vision blurs.
Because I want this.
I want him.
And I'm so tired of pretending I don't.
"Get up," I say.
Kane stands slowly.
I stand too, and before I can second-guess myself, I kiss him.
He freezes for half a second. Then his arms come around me and he kisses me back.
It's not gentle.
It's desperate and hungry and three weeks of wanting compressed into one moment.
I pull back just long enough to say, "I forgive you."
"Lilah—"
"I forgive you. But if you ever lie to me again—"
"I won't."
"If you do, I'm gone. For good. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"I mean it, Kane."
"I know."
I kiss him again.
This time, he lifts me onto the prep counter.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer.
His hands move under my shirt, and I arch into his touch.
"Upstairs?" he asks against my mouth.
"No."
"No?"
"Here."
He pulls back to look at me. "Lilah—"
"I want you here. Now."
His eyes darken. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
That's all the permission he needs.
He kisses me again, harder this time, while his hands work at the button of my jeans.
I help him shove them down my legs, and then his hands are on my thighs, spreading them wider.
"Kane—"
"I've got you."
He pulls my underwear aside and slips two fingers inside me.
I gasp.
"Fuck, Lilah. You're so wet."
Of course I am. It's been three weeks. He's not the only one who's been pining alone in bed.
He adds a third finger, and I bite down on my lip to keep from moaning.
"Don't," he says. "I want to hear you."
"Kane—"
"Let me hear you."
I stop holding back.
And when he curls his fingers inside me, I moan his name.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Just like that."
He works me with his hand until I'm shaking. Until I'm so close I can barely breathe.
Then he withdraws his fingers, and I whimper at the loss.
"Patience, sladkaya."
God. I've missed that name.
He undoes his belt and shoves his pants down just far enough to free himself.
Then he lines himself up and pushes inside me in one hard thrust.
I cry out.
"Too much?" he asks.
"No. More."
He grips my hips and pulls me to the edge of the counter.
Then he fucks me.
Hard. Fast. Like he's been holding himself back for weeks and can't anymore.
I love it.
I love watching his control shatter. Hearing desperation in his voice as he groans my name. Feeling his fingers dig into my hips, hard enough to bruise.
"Fuck, Lilah. I missed you."
"I missed you too."
"Say it again."
"I missed you."
He thrusts harder. "Again."
"I missed you, Kane. I missed you so much."
He buries his face in my neck and fucks me like he's trying to prove something.
And maybe he is.
Because this isn't just sex.
It's a promise. A claim. A reassurance that we're still us.
That we can still have this.
I come first, screaming his name while my body clenches around him.
He follows a moment later with a groan that sounds like relief.
We stay like that, breathing hard, holding each other.
Holding on and never letting go.