Facade

It’s my excuse for being here. What if something happens? What if the assholes come back? But I also know that’s exactly what it is. An excuse for being in the one place I’ve felt sane in a long time. I don’t want to consider why that is.

“He knows you’re here.”

I let those words sink in. Let them feel good when they shouldn’t. They might not know it, but I do a shitty job of protecting people.

“Want to sneak in the bathroom with me?” I tease.

She rolls her eyes. “Not going to happen.”

“Sit with me.” I nod my head across the table. Delaney looks around as though she needs to make sure the empty diner didn’t suddenly fill up with people while she wasn’t looking. When she’s sure it’s okay, she sits down, watching me. Both of my elbows rest on the table and I hold my hands out, palms up. She studies me for only a second before her palms rest on mine.

We hold each other, as though neither of our eyes can divert away. Questions dance in her eyes. I let myself smirk before I jerk my good hand out from under hers and lightly smack the top of it.

“Oh my God. You’re a cheater. You didn’t tell me we were playing!”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

She laughs. It’s soft, but you can tell nothing’s more real. It starts in her stomach and builds until it rolls out of her mouth. I want to catch it, to do the same thing.

“Considering I haven’t played the slap game since I was twelve, no.” Another laugh. I lift my middle finger and rub it across her palm, to tell her we’re playing again. Or just to feel her shiver.

“What about your hand?” she asks.

“It’s fine. It’s healing. I only keep it bandaged up so you’ll baby me.”

At that, she straightens in her seat. Gets a cutthroat look in her eyes that tells me she’s ready to take me down. We sit there for an hour, playing the slap game, thumb wars, whatever else we can think of. I count her laughs, memorize the sound and wonder if she’s keeping track of mine too. It’s stupid. So fucking stupid, but it feels good and I don’t remember the last time I felt good. More than just physically, at least.

When a customer comes in, the little ghost gets up and does her job. I watch her seat them and take their order and bring them drinks. The sway of her hips when she walks and the curve of her ass drive me crazy.

Soon her shift is over, and I’m walking her out. I back her against her car, cup her cheeks in my hands, and say, “We’re still dancing around this. I want you. Come home with me.”

Because that’s the only thing I can admit. The only thing I understand—a physical want.

She sighs. “I want to… I just don’t know if I should.”

“Because of your fucking brother?” I ask. It takes her a minute to reply. I expect her to tell me I’m wrong. To give me another reason. Maybe to say because it’s me.

“You don’t understand. I’m his little sister. He thinks he has to take care of me. We’re all each other has. I haven’t talked to him since you left and I can’t not go home. He’d worry.”

Fu

Only, I left instead. Left her alone with the memories of the little boy she loved so much.

Emotion fights to get to the surface and I want nothing more than to shove it down again. I’ll do anything to make it go away. Leaning into Delaney, my body holds her against her car. “Are you ever going to let me inside?” I ask, grinding into her so she feels the hard length of me. It makes me a prick, falling back on this time and time again, but being a prick is better than cutting myself open and letting my secrets leak out.

“Are you?” she tosses back at me. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it? You throw sexual stuff at me, because you know it builds up those barriers. Maybe I should do the same with the truth?”

I respect the hell out of her for calling me on it. For not letting me get away without knowing that she sees this game I’m playing with her. So I let a tiny seed of truth slip out. “It hurts too much to let myself bleed.” Those words are more than I’ve given any other girl. They’re a truth I wouldn’t share with anyone, but yet I gave them to her.

“Sometimes we need to bleed to heal… and… I just want…” She covers her face with her hands. I don’t move away from her and don’t pull her hands away either. I let her fight whatever battle she’s waging because it doesn’t work that way. She can’t fight mine and I can’t fight hers. “I like you.” Her hands slide away. “I can’t believe I said that. It probably sounds stupid, but I do. I didn’t expect it and I don’t know how to deal with it, but I just want you to be okay.”

Jesus, she’s honest. Honest in a way I’ve never been. Not when I was hiding Dad’s bruises or cleaning up puke while he raped my mom in the bedroom. I wasn’t honest about Ash.

“I’ll never be okay. This is it for me.”

“Delaney! I’m glad you haven’t left yet. Can you come back inside for a second?”

I don’t look behind me at the sound of the female voice coming from the diner.

“Umm. Yeah. I’ll be right there.” Delaney tries to look at me again, but I take a step backward. She follows, moving toward me before her lips come down on my swollen eye.

“I’m sorry Maddox hit you. I’m sorry for everything. All I want is for it to be okay.”

She’s such an optimist that I want to laugh, but I don’t.

“Tonight,” she tells me. Honesty mixes with sincerity on her face.

If I were a real man, I’d walk away. I’d tell her no and never show my face again. Or better yet I’d open my fucking mouth and spill the truth. How I let an i

I squeeze her hand, walk to my car, and drive away.

Chapter Fourteen

~Delaney~

I hardly hear the other waitress as she rambles on about the schedule change. That the manger called and they caught the people who tried to rob the diner. One of them confessed, she says, but her words don’t register.

When I get home, I struggle to remember the drive here. The whole time I think about Adrian and I remember what his breath felt like against my ear. For the first time, I know I got a partial glimpse of the real him. Yes, I knew he hurt. Obviously. I know there are demons and pain and regret in his past, but listening to him speak, seeing the loneliness in his features and even in the way he touched me. No, I never realized how very deep it ran.

Which does nothing to wipe out my guilt.

And it also makes me co

Because of him. There’s something special about him. And it’s scary. Scary as hell. But not as scary as the fact that I need to tell him. That I owe him this and I don’t know how to do it.

Instead of going straight to bed when I get home, I soak in a bath. I fill it with bubbles and let it try and wash away my thoughts. It doesn’t work and I think maybe, maybe I might be glad of it.

When I get out, I dress in my pajamas. Maddox is sleeping on the couch, so I’m quiet as I walk back into my room. Unease gnaws at my stomach as I dial the hospital to talk to my mom. I’ve tried before and she won’t speak to me. I’m not surprised, though; she never wants to talk to me, but I can’t stop myself from seeing if she’s okay.