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I’m surprised by the soft fingers in my hair at my temple—threading in, brushing it off my brow.
“How about at the beginning?” she says gently. “This is something that really hurts, isn’t it?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“It’s your eyes.” She looks up at me now, searching my eyes, her own blue gaze brimming with emotion. “It’s funny... you and Ulysses have almost the same eyes. This green like spring, like emerald. But where his green says nothing, yours says everything. Even the things you won’t say.”
Fuck me.
I suddenly get the urge to kiss her so bad it aches.
Suddenly I want to ask her what this thing is between us.
Shit, I know I might just ask her, might just kiss her into ashes, if only I didn’t feel Celeste’s ghost sitting here between us, hand in hand with Emma Santos.
Still, I catch Delilah’s hand and draw it down to kiss her palm with a smile.
“Feels nice to hear you say that. I’m not real good at talking most of the time. I either get mad, or just clam up and can’t get the words out.”
“Sometimes that’s just how people are when they don’t feel safe,” she whispers softly. “But I promise whatever you’re about to tell me... it’s safe, Lucas. I won’t get mad. I won’t think you’re crazy.”
“Okay.” I’m gonna have to trust her word on that.
Still takes me another minute and her coaxing hand to unglue my lips.
“My folks died when I was twelve, and my sister Celeste was eighteen. Awful car accident. We didn’t have anyone else—no surviving family—and since she was legally an adult, she wound up being my guardian. Stuck raising me all by herself, me this furious punk-ass preteen, mad at the world for taking his family away. If the family house wasn’t bought and paid for, we’d have been out on the street, but at least we had a home. She did cashier work to pay the bills, and I picked up a little under the table work at the lumberyard, hauling scrap.”
“Little Lucas the lumberjack.” Delilah smiles, tucking her head against my side again.
“Wasn’t so little, even back then. Big old rangy thing like a colt with all his bones poking out everywhere while he tries to figure out what to do with legs too long for his body.” I chuckle, then trail into a sigh. “It was rough, but even when we fought, we were good to each other, me and Celeste. We were all we ever had. I was looking forward to when I turned eighteen, 'cause I guess I—well, I was hoping to set her free. She wanted to go off to make music. She wanted to sing. She had this gorgeous voice like a nightingale. I really think she would’ve made it big, and even if she didn’t, she would’ve had an honest shot. She’d have made people happy and done right by herself. But Celeste couldn’t go anywhere with it. Not when she was tied down being stand-in mama to her bratty little brother.”
“I doubt she felt that way,” Delilah says. “Not if she loved you as much as it sounds like you loved her.”
“Maybe. Who knows. Just know that one day she started changing.” I stop and steel my voice. “She was always a bit of a daydream believer, sort of flighty, but suddenly her head was in the clouds all the time. I figured out fast my sister was in love. But I didn’t figure out who it was till it was too late. She...”
I stop.
Fuck, this tastes so bitter.
Every word scratches my tongue like pitch-black venom.
“Lucas,” Delilah whispers, squeezing my arm to urge me on.
“I think she was having a fling with Montero Arrendell. Think he promised to use his money and his connections to get her into the music industry. Suddenly, Celeste was wearing expensive dresses we couldn’t afford, nice jewelry, going up to that house at all hours of the night.” I press my teeth against my lips, chewing on ugly words, struggling to breathe. “Then one night, we had the mother of all fights. I told her I’d pre-enlisted in the Navy for when I finished high school so she wouldn’t have to keep working to put me through college. She really thought she was gonna pay my tuition, when she never even went herself because she had me to raise. But she was so pissed, talking about how I’d go and get myself killed. And, of course, she was all dolled up that night. Montero sent a car to pick her up, and she left in a huff right in the middle of our fight.”
Deep, hoarse breaths rattle my lungs.
There’s an invisible fist of pure grief slamming into my gut, over and over, robbing away my words.
Fuck, I’m hollowed out from head to toe.
