“It was that or lose my inheritance,” I remind her, my tone matter-of-fact.
She tilts her head, considering this. “Fair,” she concedes after a moment, though her eyes are still filled with questions. “But seriously, Gale. What’s the deal with you two? Because whatever’s happening here, it doesn’t feel like it’s just a business arrangement. Everyone in town says you two look like you are so in love . . . the first child might pop-in in nine months.”
I look away, my throat tightening as I try to find the words to explain something I don’t fully understand myself. “It’s complicated,” I say finally, my voice quieter now. “Can I get back to you when things are less . . . crazy? Just know that we went from convenience to love.”
Delilah watches me for a long moment, her expression softening just enough to remind me why she’s been the one person I could trust since I arrived at Birchwood Springs. “Complicated I can handle,” she says. “But don’t leave me in the dark, okay? If you’re in over your head . . . I need to know.”
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Okay.”
But even as I say it, I know there’s so much I can’t tell her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Am I in over my head? Not with Ledge, the rest . . . well, that’s going to take a long time to figure out.
ChapterThirty-Three
Ledger
The room hums with quiet,the kind of silence that only settles after something raw and electric. The sheets are tangled around us, Galeana’s hair spilling over the pillow in dark, messy waves against the white cotton. Her chest rises and falls in a rhythm I’ve memorized without meaning to. She’s warm against my side, grounding me in a way nothing else ever has.
I lean in, brushing a line of lazy kisses along her bare shoulder, my fingers ghosting over her skin as if I need to remind myself she’s really here. We’re here. And for now, it’s enough.
At least, it feels like enough—until she breaks the silence.
“I hate lying to them,” she murmurs, her voice soft but heavy with something unspoken, something I know she’s been holding on to.
I glance down at her, my brow furrowing. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, her gaze fixed on the ceiling like it holds the answers she can’t bring herself to say aloud.
“Umm, context would help here, darling,” I say, a little edge of humor in my voice because she just went fromfuck me harder, Ledgeto . . . well, whatever this is.
“My friends,” she says quietly, her voice breaking just a little on the word.
“Your friends?” I repeat, trying to catch up.
She nods, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard. “Aiden and Delilah. I’ve never lied to Aiden. And Del . . . well, she’s my Birchwood Bestie. However, we’re still getting to know each other, but lying like this just feels wrong. It’s like I’m hiding this massive part of my life from them, and they can tell something’s off. But I can’t tell them why.”
I shift onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow so I can see her better. Her eyes meet mine, wide and vulnerable in a way that twists something deep in my chest.
“You know why you can’t, darling,” I say gently, brushing her hair back from her face. My thumb skims her temple, a small, grounding touch. “It’s not only for our safety, but theirs too.”
She sighs, the sound filled with a mix of frustration and resignation. “I know. I do. But it doesn’t make it easier. I was on a video call with Aiden earlier, reassuring her that there’s no danger.”
I exhale, my fingers trailing down her arm. “We’re safe,” I remind her, though the word tastes bitter on my tongue.
Her gaze sharpens, and she turns toward me, her expression hard to read. “Are we?” she asks, her voice low. “Because I’m not sure anymore. There’s a reason we have guards stationed around this house and at the construction site of the new one. And I can’t explain that to Aiden. If I told her the truth, she’d freak out—and Del? Del lives here. She’d lose it.”
“I get it,” I say softly, my voice carrying the weight of more than just understanding. “God, do I get it.” And I do. I understand the tightrope she’s walking, the constant calculation of what to say, what to withhold.
“But we can’t risk it, Gale,” I continue, my tone firmer now. “Not with the syndicate watching. Not with the stakes this high.”
Her eyes flicker with something—anger, frustration, exhaustion—it’s hard to pinpoint exactly, but it hits me like a punch to the gut. “I know that. I do. But knowing doesn’t make it any less shitty, Ledge,” she says, her voice quiet but laced with an edge. “I feel like I’m losing a part of myself every time I look Aiden in the eye and pretend like everything’s fine.”
I don’t have an easy answer for her. Hell, I don’t have any answer. What am I supposed to say? That it’ll get easier? It won’t. That this will all magically go away? It sure as fuck won’t. So instead, I lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, letting my lips linger there like it might soften the ache in her voice or at least remind her she’s not carrying this alone.
“We’ll get through this,” I murmur, the words as much for me as they are for her—a promise I’m determined to keep even if it kills me. “But listen, if at any point you want to leave, if it’s too much and you need to be in Denver with her or go to Seattle, I’ll make it happen. No hesitation. We won’t give two fucks about what happens here.”
She pulls back slightly, her brows knitting together, her lips parting in protest. “You should care,” she says, her voice firm.
“I do,” I reply, the words tumbling out rough, raw, and immediate. My hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her closer until her face is inches from mine. “But I care more about you. Don’t you get that, Gale?” My voice drops lower, heavy with emotion. “You’re my everything now. I can’t—” My voice catches, and I have to take a breath before continuing. “I can’t fathom something happening to you.”
