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“Except for you.”
“Of course, I misspoke. What I meant was I’ll be hands-off—”
“I think I understood what you meant.” Obviously not, or else there wouldn’t be so much resentment in her voice. I’m doing this wrong, fumbling left and right. One skill I was never able to master was how to navigate touchy situations like this one.
“I thought this would make you happy.”
“So did I.” She sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed like she’s suddenly in a hurry to get away from me. “For my whole life, I've never been given a choice. I could never make my own decisions. Rather it was my father, my aunt, Nash, or you. Someone always took my choice away. First, I was trapped in a trailer, then I was bound to Nash. After that, Quinton kidnapped me, then I came to Corium, and even when I left there, I got myself captured again.”
“Maybe it’s time to break the cycle.”
She shrugs. “I always hated being trapped and always yearned for freedom, but now that I am faced with the possibility of that all, all I feel is fear. I thought I would be relieved and happy to be on my own, but the truth is, I have no idea how to take care of myself. I don't even have a fucking driver's license. I don't have an education or any special skills. What the hell am I going to do?”
“You’ll be fine. This is a good thing. You’ll be safe and protected. I promise.”
“So you say.” The disappointment in her voice cuts me to my core. What does she want from me? She doesn’t want to go back to Corium. Have I not offered enough? I can’t help but have a slight twinge of resentment at the idea. How much more can I give her?
As it turns out, she has an idea. “I need you to do something for me.”
“And what would that be?” I ask, guarded.
“I need you to take me back to the trailer where I used to live with my aunt.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I still have things there I would like to take with me wherever I go. Can’t I at least do that?” She pauses. “Remember, I didn’t exactly expect to never go back, and I could only take as much as I could carry in a single bag. I still have clothes there, books, stuff like that.”
“I can get you more clothes and books. You can leave all of that behind.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.” The ferocity of her response takes me by surprise. Who would want to return to a place as bleak and depressing as she described? That’s her past; what is the point of returning to somewhere you never belonged?
“Don’t you want to start fresh? Why would you want to be reminded of a place where you felt isolated and ignored?”
She snorts as she stands. “Call it closure, I guess. Whatever you call it, I don’t care. I want to go. I need to.” Our eyes meet, and she holds my gaze. “Please.”
How am I supposed to refuse that? The pleading in her gaze and her words. I can tell she needs this, even if I don’t want her to return to that place.
“Fine. First, we get some decent food in you.” As it is, I smell coffee wafting up from downstairs, and all it’s done is wake up my appetite. I can only imagine she’s hungry. What she needs now is to rest and get her strength back. Instead, she would rather walk down memory lane and reopen old wounds. I don’t understand it.
What’s worse, I don’t know why I want to.
Celia and Nic are deep in discussion when we enter the dining room, so deep they don’t notice our arrival until I clear my throat. Celia immediately sits up straight and smiles, her gaze focused on Delilah. “There you are. I thought we might have to send out a search party.”
She’s every bit the gracious hostess, rising from her chair and rounding the table with an outstretched hand. “Hi, Delilah. I’m Celia. I’m so glad you’re safe. How are you feeling?” Things haven’t always been warm or friendly between us—she didn’t come to the family under normal circumstances—but she’s proven to be an excellent partner for my brother. Raised in our world, she knows the ropes and can roll with the punches.
And right now, I couldn’t be more grateful. Delilah’s shoulders loosen and sink to their normal level instead of being up around her ears. “I’m doing… okay. Thanks for lending me some clothes.”
“Of course. You wouldn’t want to be in anything that reminds you of that place.” Celia gives her a knowing nod. “I understand.”
Yes, she would. I wonder whether Nic shared any of Delilah’s background with his wife. Of all people, Celia would relate to being treated like nothing but a pawn by her bastard of a father. She was a day shy of being sold into marriage when my brother’s men kidnapped her and set her on the path she now walks alongside Nic.
She shows Delilah to a chair, and I follow close, holding Nic’s gaze all the while. Let him give me shit about Delilah in Celia’s presence, and I’ll throw it straight back in his face. I wonder if he’s thinking about that as Delilah takes a seat, with me taking the chair closer to him. The way she shrinks back in his presence, it’s obvious she’s uncomfortable. Why do I fucking care so much?
Because I can’t forget how she threw her arms over her head and begged for mercy when I found her in that closet. She was a screaming, shrieking animal practically devoid of sense or logic. I don’t know what it is about her, but she brings out every protective instinct I possess—for better or worse.
“Eat up,” Celia encourages. “Take as much as you want. Unless there’s something else you’d like, instead.”
Delilah wears a disbelieving sort of smile as she takes a couple of pancakes and a pair of sausage links. “This looks and smells amazing. Thank you. I’m fine.” I pour myself a cup of coffee and exchange a look with Celia, who only offers a shy little smile before taking the carafe so she can freshen her own cup.
