LUCAS
“What is this?” She looks over at me from her corner of the sofa. The way she sits with her feet drawn up under her, anyone would think this is her apartment. I have to swallow back a flare-up of irritation.
“An effort at giving you a little culture. It’s a good movie.”
“It’s not in color.”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” She scowls at the TV when it’s obvious I’m the one she wants to scowl at. “Just give it a chance. You might enjoy it.”
“Okay.” She shrugs, still looking skeptical. I turn my attention back to my laptop, though it isn’t exactly holding my interest, with Nic’s advice running through my memory on repeat.
I need to get her out of here. I need to separate myself from her and turn my energy toward Aspen.
Yet the more I’ve thought about it, the more evident something is: it’s easy for him to say. I knew it during our call, but now it’s clearer than ever. The girl is untrustworthy. I still know nothing about her connection to the Valentines beyond blood.
She is part of them. She is the last Valentine, the family who hurt Aspen. How can I let her walk around, free and clear until I’m sure she won’t turn against Aspen? No matter how irresponsible it makes me to keep her here, it’d be ten times worse to let her go until I’m certain she’s not a threat.
I can hardly live with everything I’ve done. How could I live with myself if my daughter is hurt again—and I had the power to stop it but did nothing?
Nic doesn’t get it. I’m doing this for my kid. Not for me.
The sound of her soft chuckles lifts my gaze to the TV screen. “This is actually pretty funny,” she murmurs once she notices me watching.
“It’s a classic screwball comedy.”
“I didn’t think these old movies were actually funny. I figured they’d be all boring and dry and stuff.”
“I still can’t believe your aunt never introduced you to any of that. You said she watched movies.”
Her mouth sets in a firm line. “I guess that’s why I was never interested. Sitting with her to watch a movie meant breathing in her smoke. Have you ever been trapped in a room with a chain smoker, and the windows don’t open?”
“I can’t say I have.” It sounds miserable, one more layer of unhappiness in what seems like a generally unhappy life.
That’s what I still don’t understand and can’t help mulling over while she turns back to the movie. What am I missing here? She’s a Valentine kid, yet she lived in a trailer. No money—she was fairly clear on that. The rest of the family lived like kings while she was trapped in a double-wide of smoke.
She has to be lying. Addicts will tell any lie they can fabricate if it means getting what they need. They’ll steal anything they can get their hands on and make promises even a child could see through. I spent years with people like that, and I don’t get that same feeling about her.
Delilah’s anger comes through in every word she uses when she talks about her past.
“Do you know more movies like this?” she asks, wearing a smile when she turns to me. Like she’s forgotten who she is, who I am, what this is.
“Of course,” I mutter, diving into my work. “There’s plenty of them. I’m sure you could find some online.”
“Right. I’ll use all the free time I have on the internet.”
I grit my teeth against a sarcastic response since I get the feeling that’s what she wants. Obviously, I know she has a point. But it isn’t as if she’ll be here forever.
“When you get the chance. That is what I meant.” She swings her head back toward the TV, and I’m glad. The less we talk about her future, the better since I don’t know what her future will look like.
Eventually, she’ll have to move into the dorms. It’s only a matter of when. I hate how uncomfortable it makes me feel, the thought of letting her go off on her own.
Though it’s not as if she’ll be alone, technically. Someone will always be watching—maybe I can install cameras in her room as an added precaution. And if I’m able to listen in on her conversations, I could learn more about her ties to her family. That brother of hers who’s better off dead. She makes it sound like they didn’t have any kind of relationship growing up, yet she was still tied to him somehow. I have to know how she fits into the puzzle.
The movie ends around dinnertime, so rather than start another, we wait for our meal to be delivered from the cafeteria.
“You don’t like to cook, do you?” she asks curiously while we wait.
I don’t look up from what I’m typing. “What was your first clue? Nobody wants to eat anything I’ve prepared, believe me. Nothing short of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”