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He turns to walk down the path, heading towards his car, and then I remember something.

“Hey,” I call out. He turns back to me. “I saw something in your room. The sketch. You hung it.”

I watch as a smile forms on his face. It takes away the sombre expression he’s had since he arrived to rescue me last night.

“Of course. It’s a work of art, Dee. I fully expect to see your artwork selling for high prices in the future. I’ll be glad to claim I have an Adler original.”

“You’re an idiot,” I scoff, but then I give him a small smile. “See you later.”

“First period,” he confirms.

This time, as he walks towards his car, I don’t stop him or call him back. I watch him leave and try to ignore the warmth that spreads through my body. It’s been a long time since I had somebody in my life who genuinely seems to think I’m worth something.

All in all, it’s a little bit terrifying, but right now, I’m grateful for him and everything he did for me, even if I have no idea how I’ll ever pay him back for his kindness.

Chapter nine

Delilah

Two Years Ago

“This looks interesting,” I comment as Joseph hands me the bowl of what he says is chocolate lava cake. Whatever it’s trying to resemble, I’m seeing “brown,” “hot,” and “steaming.”

“If I thought there was a possibility that you’d require a dessert tonight, I would have made you a banoffee pie,” he says, and my memories overwhelm me. How many times did we sit and eat that together? How hard did I laugh the first time he tried to make it for me, didn’t set the sauce properly, and I watched as it oozed over his kitchen?

“Chocolate lava cake will be fine.”

“Good, because you’re shit out of luck for anything else,” he jokes.

He sits down next to me on the sofa, his own bowl and spoon in his hands. There’s an oddly uncomfortable moment when he leans over me, but then I realise he’s aiming for the remote control, which is on the arm of the sofa.

He grabs it and then settles in his seat, flicking the television on. It appears set to play a smooth listening radio station. The screen remains dark, but having the music on is surprisingly comfortable.

“For a second, I wondered if you were going to put on one of your films, or your show,” I tease.

He chuckles. “God, no. I hate watching myself on-screen. I think everybody finds it awkward.”

I pop a scoop of my dessert into my mouth and then huff back a cough.

“Jesus, that’s like fire,” I exclaim once I’ve managed to swallow. I’m fairly sure I’ve singed my windpipe with how hot it was.

“Well, it does say lava cake,” he points out. There’s a quick, amused smile that forms but swiftly disappears, replaced by a look of concern. “Do you need a glass of water?”

“I think my wine will put it out. Either that or set me completely alight.” I wink and pick up my wine, taking a small sip. I put it back down and return to the dessert, making sure I blow on the next spoonful before taking a bite. “It’s actually not that bad,” I state.

“Not that bad. Full of compliments, Dee.”

“I think you probably have enough people who give you compliments and keep your confidence up,” I quip.

It’s easy to fall into a bit of teasing, even if the things he’s told me about Hannah are weighing heavily on my heart. I was devastated when Joseph walked out on me. He disappeared from my life with only a stupid note left behind. The main message was that he was marrying another woman, but the only information I retained was the knowledge that he didn’t really love me. How could he, if he could do that to me? That’s not love.

For months, I agonised over every recalled conversation and moment between us, looking for the evidence I’d missed. I criticised myself as heavily as I did him, and although I knew he was the one in the wrong, I blamed myself more. I saw myself as exactly what I had been—needy, young, immature, chasing for affection and acceptance in a world that showed me none.

I held myself accountable, even though I never intended to fall for Joseph. But when it happened, it was the kind of love that hits like a sledgehammer, in a way that makes it impossible to be the same person you were before.

For a long time, I convinced myself that what I felt was friendship and appreciation for the way he helped me, and I was sure that he didn’t feel anything for me more than sympathy.

Not long after the night Duncan tried to grab me, Joseph accompanied Ms Castle from theatre studies to the next visit to see a play. We sat next to each other, watching The Deep Blue Sea, and when I cried at the emotions being portrayed on the stage, he discreetly handed me a tissue so I could wipe my eyes. It felt like more evidence of his caring nature rather than anything sinister or inappropriate, things that carried on during our lunchtime conversations. That night, he drove me and some other students home. I was the last one to get dropped off. He walked me up the pathway to the house, letting me check that nobody was home and that I would be safe before he left me.