I’ll be there in five.
It took her less than five to get to Lane’s house. He’d told her via text that he’d left the front door unlocked so she should just come on in, and she did, peering around the door as she opened it.
“Lane?” she called as she stepped into the empty living room and shut the door behind her.
“I’m in the kitchen,” he answered.
Entering the kitchen, she found Lane leaning against the counter, slinging back a beer. He raised his mostly empty bottle in a silent toast when he spotted her, then nodded toward the fridge. “Want one?”
She grabbed one for herself and handed him another, which he took gratefully, removing the cap with an almost vicious twist. “How’d you know I needed another?”
Delilah shrugged. “I figured I may as well grab you one while I was getting my own.”
The look he gave her was skeptical, but he didn’t argue. Maybe he wasn’t in the mood. She knew she wasn’t. She was exhausted. Tired from last night, the busy day, the worry over Angela, and taking care of a despondent Wren. The Gallaghers were a tiring bunch.
But she wouldn’t trade them for the world.
“My mom said something about you.”
“What did she say?” She handed her beer to Lane and he twisted off the bottle cap before giving it back to her.
“That she believed we made a good match.”
Lane said it so nonchalantly she nearly choked. He would say something like that when she was trying to take a drink. “Wh-what do you mean?” she practically sputtered.
“My mom said she always believed we were better suited for each other than you and West. And that’s pretty much an exact quote. You’re the type of girl who always seems to know exactly what I need. Like another beer.” He clinked his bottle against hers then drank.
Huh. She hadn’t really meant anything by giving him another beer. More like she was trying to help him out. Trying to take care of him. After all these years and the onslaught of emotions that swirled within her whenever she was near him, it seemed to come naturally.
“Well, I’ve known you a long time,” she said.
“Right.” He drew the word out, looking at her as if she’d lost a couple of marbles. “We’ve known each other for years.”
“Practically our entire lives.”
“I don’t really remember life without you in it.”
His statement made her heart swell. Did he find her too familiar? Nothing special? Or was it comforting—a realization that she’d always been there for him no matter what?
Did he even really see her?
When she said nothing and could only stare at him, he took her beer and set both of their bottles on the counter before he turned toward her. “Where you going with this, Dee?”
He frowned, a little crease forming between his eyebrows, and she was filled with the urge to trace it with her finger. Ease his worry, his exhaustion, his pain, whatever troubles he was dealing with. She wanted to shoulder them with him.
Togeth
er.
“I’m trying to tell you that when I help you out . . . when I seem to know what you want before you even want it, that’s because I know you.” She stared into his eyes, baring her soul with every word she spoke. “I really know you, Lane. I probably know you better than anyone else.”
At least, she’d like to think that. Believe it.
They remained quiet for a long moment, their beers forgotten on the kitchen counter, the only sound in the room their soft inhalations. He finally took a deep breath and blew it out so that it puffed his cheeks, his gaze siding away from hers. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight and his eyes full of pain.
And wonder.
And confusion.