Delilah
Present Day
My body feels heavy, the adrenaline that had flooded my system during the call with Gabriel long gone.
I sit on the deck of the ferry, feeling responsible for uprooting the lives of the people here.
If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t have to leave.
I already don’t have many friends here, and I can’t imagine this will gain me any favor.
I replay the call with Gabriel in my head.
There have been times in our marriage when I’ve questioned if my husband cares for me at all.
I’m not an idiot, I know he doesn’t love me the way I love him.
But seeing him so… unkempt proves that he’s been affected by my absence.
And he seemed genuinely relieved when I said I’m unharmed.
That has to count for something, right? Regardless of how he feels or doesn’t feel, he’s my husband.
I have to listen to him, and he told me to come home.
The other part of our conversation I can’t stop going over makes its way to the forefront of my mind.
Gabriel and Maverick were friends. The thought alone is ridiculous.
How were these two men—whose beliefs couldn’t be more opposing—ever friends?
Gabriel said they were “best friends for twelve years”, but he clearly didn’t mean the last twelve years.
So, what happened? I’m sure Maverick would tell me if I asked, but I don’t particularly want to talk to him when the entire camp can see—and probably hear—our interaction.
My status here is already questioned at best and detested at worst. No need to add to that by talking to the leader of the Rebels like he owes me his time over the other more pressing matters I’m sure he’s dealing with.
My eyes are—once again—drawn to the man in question.
He’s like a magnet for my attention. I’m hyperaware of his presence at all times, so much so that it’s starting to grate on my nerves.
I’ve never been so captivated by a person before.
It feels like I’ve been living in black and white, everything around me dull and lifeless except for Maverick. He stands out, the only thing in color.
I reluctantly pull my eyes away from his handsome features, kicking myself for even taking notice of his beauty. You’re a married woman, Delilah, I remind myself. I’ve never so much as looked at another man besides Gabriel before this, so why is Maverick so hard to ignore?
Luckily, Liv and Charlie join Bec and me on the deck, offering a much-needed distraction from my thoughts. Charlie teaches me some more signs, and the next forty minutes pass quickly.
It isn’t until the entire camp is unpacking that I realize I don’t have anything of my own to unpack.
I help where I can, all the while wondering where I’ll be sleeping, or if I can acquire a new toothbrush, and I’m really starting to miss my Jacuzzi bathtub right about now.
It’s been far too long since I’ve bathed properly.
Once everything is unpacked from the ferry, everyone trudges through the woods to find a place to set up camp.
It’s apparent by their efficiency that most of these people have done this many times, and I’m amazed by how quickly the new camp is built.
There are a few things that take more hands, like the dining tent, the Hub, and V’s medical tent, but even those are done by the time the sun starts to set. It’s wildly impressive.
Bec catches me wiping my sweat-slicked brow with my bicep, and she gives me a cheeky grin and a wink. “You’re really earning your place around here, city girl.”
I shrug. “Just trying to be helpful.”
Bec ducks inside her tent before coming back out with a towel and a bar of soap. “Let’s go find a place to wash up.”
“Is this your way of telling me I smell?” I ask, and she laughs.
“Moving day’s hard work. You’ll feel better, trust me.”
I hesitate. “I don’t have a towel. Or soap. Or clothes to change into.”
“We’ll get some stuff at the Hub.” She jerks her head for me to follow.
“But,” I argue. She waits patiently—sort of—for me to continue. “I can’t pay for it. I don’t even have anything to trade.”
Bec shrugs. “We all start with nothing when we come here. No one will think twice about it.”
“Sam might,” I mumble, which makes Bec laugh again.
“Ah,” Bec says. “Don’t worry about Sam. She’s a tough one to win over.”
I follow her to the Hub where we find another set of clothes for me, some bar soap, shampoo, and a towel that’s clearly seen better days. “Where does all this stuff come from?” I ask.
“Most of it is from Mav’s dad, Joe. He collects donations or buys supplies secondhand, then brings it all down across the border every few months,” she explains.
“Wow,” I say. “That’s really generous.”
“He would live here with us if Mav let him. But he’s getting older, and roughing it out here in the woods would be hard on his aging body.
Plus, it’s nice to have someone on the outside who can keep us informed on the Brotherhood’s movements.
” Bec freezes then gives me a funny look, and I realize she probably feels like she said too much.
“I would never expose Arcadia.” The words leave my mouth before I’ve even really had time to think, and I’m surprised to find that they’re completely true. I wouldn’t tell the Brotherhood about the Resistance, not voluntarily anyway.
She gives me a pitying look. “Everyone can break, city girl.”
I shiver at her insinuation. They wouldn’t torture me for information… would they?
Bec sighs, but doesn’t push the subject. “Let’s go, Mrs. Sinclair.”
She doesn’t say it any particular way, but something about that name sounds off now. “You can call me Della,” I say. “If you want.”
“Oh yeah?” she asks, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.
I shrug, but my heart is pounding. I convince myself I’m not actually breaking the rules since it’s just a nickname. “Yeah. My friends used to call me that.”
“Aww,” Bec teases. “Does that mean we’re friends?”
I roll my eyes. “Unless you want to keep calling me Mrs. Sinclair.”
She scoffs. “Hell no!”
I laugh, belatedly realizing I haven’t truly laughed in what feels like forever. The feeling is almost foreign, but incredibly freeing.
“Let’s go, Della.”
I dip my chin to hide my smile and follow Bec.
We find a creek that leads us to a large pond where we bathe in the fresh water; I wash my hair and scrub my skin raw, shaking from the cold, but my chattering teeth are worth it to feel clean for the first time in days.
We dress in the clothes we brought and Bec shows me how to wash the dirty ones we were wearing.
It’s far from ideal, and I definitely miss the convenience of a washing machine, but at least I’ll have a spare change of clothes that are clean.
On our way back to the new camp, damp clothes in our arms, I try to get to know Bec more. “So, do you have a husband?”
Bec starts coughing violently. I pat her on the back a few times until she recovers and catches her breath. “No.”
“Oh,” I say. “Is no one here married?”
Bec shrugs. “Not really.”
I clear my throat. “What about Maverick? You two seem close.”
Bec makes a face of distaste. “Gross. Mav’s like my brother.”
For indiscernible reasons, hearing they’re not romantically involved fills me with relief.
Truthfully, now that I think about it, I’ve been in Maverick’s tent—slept in his bed—and there were no signs of anyone else living there.
He must not be married… but why wouldn’t he correct me when I said something when we first met? “Ah.”
“Besides,” Bec interrupts my thoughts. “I’m pan.”
My brows furrow. “Pan?”
“Pansexual.”
“I’m sorry,” I wince. “I’m not familiar with that term.”
Bec gives me a patient smile. “It means I don’t really care about gender. I love people for who they are, regardless of how they identify.”
My eyes widen as I process what she’s saying. “You’re gay?” I whisper. Not that there’s anyone else around to hear us. No one is gay in New Athens, not openly anyway. It’s forbidden since non-heterosexual pairings can’t result in children.
She laughs. “I mean, I definitely prefer female companionship these days.” The smile melts off her face. “My time in New Athens didn’t exactly improve my disdain for the majority of the male population.”
I nod, because what is there to say? What she experienced in New Athens was horrible, even if I’m still trying to reconcile my own experiences with those of the people here.
But honestly, after everything she’s been through, she deserves to be happy.
Why should I care if that happiness is found with another woman?
“So, do you have a girlfriend, then?”
Bec’s cheeks flush a pretty shade of mauve and she clears her throat. “Um, no.”
A slow smile creeps over my face. “But there is someone you like, isn’t there?”
The pink on her face deepens. “It doesn’t matter.”
I decide to stop teasing. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable and lose one of the only people here who tolerates my presence. “Well, if you ever want to talk about her, I’m here.”
She smiles. “Ya know, city girl… you’re not that bad.”
I roll my eyes. “What a glowing endorsement of my company.”
Bec snorts. “What about you?”
“What about me, what?”
“You have a husband.”
“Yes,” I say, wondering where this line of questioning is headed.
“Who you care about.”
“Yes…”
“He must be good in bed, then.”
Now it’s my turn to blush while Bec smirks. “Can’t say I’ve ever found the experience particularly enjoyable.”
Bec grimaces. “Jesus, sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
I wave her off, face still flaming. “It’s fine.”
She shakes her head. “Anyone who doesn’t prioritize their partner’s pleasure is a horrible lover.”
I shrug. “A woman’s pleasure is secondary to a man’s.”
Bec glares at me. “That’s bullshit, Della.”
“That’s what I was taught.”
“Well, you deserve to find pleasure too,” she says with full sincerity.
“Thanks.” I plaster on a fake smile as we walk back to the camp in silence.
The idea of telling Bec that I’ve never found pleasure in sex is embarrassing. My priority has always been ensuring that Gabriel finds release, but I’ve never even gotten close to achieving climax. At least, not with my husband.
There was one time when I thought Gabriel was out of town.
I was alone in the house and decided to take a hot bath and try to bring myself pleasure.
I touched myself, explored my body, found what felt good.
He caught me with my hand between my legs and was so angry he broke the vase of flowers on the vanity.
Then he forced me to walk across the floor littered with shards of glass and took me roughly from behind while my feet still bled.
A hand touches my arm gently.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Bec’s looking at me with concern.
I shake my head to clear the memory. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
Her face morphs into one of pity. “I’m here too, if you ever need to process anything.”
I ignore her offer. I don’t think I’m ready to process anything yet, let alone say it out loud to another person.
“I’ll see you later.” I quicken my steps and hurry away, only to run straight into someone who smells oddly comforting.