Page 16 of Sweet Oblivion

Thank you,she signs.

And that one, she gets right.

Inever make it to the living room. Not willing to be that far from Delaney, I slide my ass to the floor next to the bathroom door and listen to muffled sobs. The fact I can hear her tells me just how hard she’s crying. The new hearing aids I got last month are the best I’ve had yet. My doctor referred to them as superpower hearing aids, and he was right. They pick up so much more than my last ones did and have a crazy battery life. But right now, part of me wishes they weren’t.

Am I intruding on her privacy by sitting here?

She’s been in there for a long damn time.

Steam stopped escaping from under the door at least ten minutes ago, but she hasn’t come out yet.

Tori sits across from me, eyeing me up like I’m intruding in her space. Who the fuck knows. Maybe she’s looking at me like I’m breakfast. Don’t pigs eat people? I swear I’ve heard of that.

All thoughts of the pig evaporate like the damn steam when the door finally opens, and I jump to my feet. A still shaky Delaney stands in front of me, wrapped in a fuzzy pink robe that hits her mid-thigh. Her bruised skin rubbed raw no doubt from the hot shower and scrubbing and soap, and her long, dark hair, hanging in wet, nearly black waves around her bare shoulders. Beautiful and broken.

“You stayed,” she whispers so low I don’t hear it, but I feel it.

“As long as you need,” I promise.

Her lip quivers, and I slowly wrap my arms around her, giving her a moment to back away if she wants to. In case the touch is too much, too soon. But she doesn’t. Delaney wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest, like she’s scared to move.

I drop my chin to the top of her head. “I won’t let him hurt you ever again. No one will. I promise.”

Another sob rips from her throat. I slide my arms under her legs as they give out and carry her through the open door to the bedroom across the hall from the bathroom. Not a single thing is out of place. No clothes thrown on the floor. No mess on the single dresser. Her bed is made with a plain green comforter the color of the sage in my great-grandmother’s garden, with sheer white curtains hanging down from the four corners of the canopy above. It’s simple and clean and devoid of any real personal touches, save for the single stuffed pig sitting on the pillows that looks a little like Tori.

With careful steps, I move through her space and rest heron the center of the bed before sitting close enough to be next to her but not enough to be touching. Not unless she needs it. I’m running without a playbook. I have no idea what this woman needs or wants. Just that I know God himself couldn’t get me to walk out of this room right now. Not without her. Not unless she tells me to, and even then, it might just be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Delaney pulls her knees up to her chest and plays with a loose thread on her towel as the foot of the bed shakes. When I look down, Tori has made herself at home on a giant pink pillow I’m guessing is her bed, and I fight back a laugh when I see she’s resting her head on her own stuffed pig. Turning back, I drag my eyes over the woman next to me and throw a Hail Mary. “So... Tori, huh?”

That gets a small smile, and damn... it’s like I just hit the damn lottery.

Noted. This woman loves her pig.

“Is there a story there?”

“Not really,”she slowly spells out before herhands drop to her lap and back to that thread, curling it around her thumb.

“Don’t worry about signing, Lane. It’s quiet in here, and I can hear you and read your lips.”

She nods, and her shoulders relax a small fraction. “I found her wandering near the bar a few months ago. She didn’t have a tag or a collar, and animal control said no one had reported her missing. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I put a flyer up at the bar and kept her with me. No one ever came or called, so she sort of just became mine.”

“So you named her?”

She nods.

“Why Tori?”

There goes that smile again. “I thought about calling her Piggie Smalls because she’s little, ya know... And I mean, who doesn’t love Biggie? But when that didn’t feel right, I decided to go with The Notorious P.I.G.” She peaks over thebed at the little pink pig who’s fallen asleep that quickly. “Tori for short.”

“You a big 90s rap fan, Delaney Rousseau?” I ask, fascinated.

“Kinda.” Her thumb turns white from lack of circulation until she finally unravels that loose thread. “I guess we better get to know each other a little better if we’re getting married, shouldn’t we?”

I kick my shoes off and lean back against the pile of pillows stacked along her headboard as the other reality of the past six hours kicks in. “Lane?—”

“No, Ryker.”She sits up straight and stares into my eyes, and fuck if it doesn’t hurt to see the pain there. “Do you understand you saved my life? Do you really, truly comprehend that? He would have raped me. He probably would have killed me. I couldn’t breathe. He was choking me. I thought I was going to die. You saved me. Let me save you.”She scoots closer and runs her trembling fingers over my hair, lightly touching my hearing aid. “You’re sure you can hear me? Because I’m trying to learn ASL, but I know I’m not very good yet, and I want to make sure I don’t fuck one more thing up tonight.”

A single tear trickles down her cheek, and I flick it away with my thumb.