DELILAH
Idon’t know what I expected. A tearful kiss? For him to tell me he loves me, too? I guess I know better than to think anything like that would ever happen, but still, it would be nice if he at least would act like he’s glad I’m with him as we sit in this jet and soar thousands of feet above the earth.
He’s too busy brooding, seething, to pay me much attention. In fact, he’s hardly said a word since he told me to get packed. I was too glad he agreed to think much of it at the time, but now we’ve been through leaving the building, climbing on the helicopter with our bags, then boarding the jet. He still hasn’t done much more than grunt when I ask a question. Eventually, I stopped. There’s nothing worse than somebody repeatedly giving you the cold shoulder no matter how hard you try. It’s easier not to try to let them work it out independently.
No matter how much it hurts. What do I have to do to make him understand I’m in this with him? He’s not alone. No matter how much he clearly wants to be. Somewhere along the line, somebody gave him the idea he’s not worth caring about. I wish I couldn’t relate to that, but I know all about it. And I don’t want him to feel that way. He’s worth so much more than that.
And there I was, thinking I wouldn’t have to go through the discomfort of facing Nic again. It’s not like he went out of his way before to make it seem like my being around was anything more than an inconvenience. I doubt his feelings have changed very much by the time the car he’s sent for us pulls up in front of his home.
Once we’re inside, with Nic arranging for our bags to be brought in—I’m not used to having people do things for me—Lucas finally sees fit to acknowledge me. “Go upstairs to the bedroom we were in before. Wait there until I come for you.”
It comes as such a surprise that I freeze in place at first. He can’t mean to send me away from him like this, can he? But no matter how long I stare up at him, his expression never changes—until it does, revealing irritation. “Didn’t you hear me?”
Even though I don’t want to, I drag my feet up the stairs before I even have the chance to say hello to Celia.
So here I am again. I kick off my shoes with a sigh, fatigue tugging at me now that the frenzy of packing and travel has passed.
Now there’s nothing to do but acknowledge the fatigue, the fact that I feel drained from head to toe, inside and out. To think, I started out this morning in Takotna, back in that hotel room with Lucas. Now here I am, after having flown in a private jet once again, my bags being brought in by a stranger. Not that I had much to bring with me—so much of it was destroyed, after all.
I wish he would have told me what he has in mind for the endgame, but then I guess he doesn’t know. Maybe that’s what he’s discussing with his brother now. Next steps. Where will he go, and what will he do with his life?
And how is he supposed to deal with the fact that his daughter is still up at Corium, and she didn’t do anything to stop this?
I know that’s got to be bothering him, and it hurts to imagine his pain. I find myself wanting to blame Aspen, but I’m not naïve. I’m sure that even if she fought like hell against her father-in-law, nothing would have changed. He was dead set on getting Lucas out of there.
Mostly because of me, I’m sure. Is that why he didn’t want to talk to me on the plane? I’m sure it’s our involvement that pushed Xander over the edge. It’s not like I wanted this to happen. Neither of us planned on it.
God, I’m exhausted. And I remember how comfortable the bed is. Celia was kind enough to leave pajamas on the foot of the bed like she did before. I changed into them before crawling under the covers and curling into a ball. It would be better if Lucas was here with me, but he has a lot to handle now. Eventually, he’ll get tired, I’m sure.
I just wish it didn’t feel like he always wants to get me out of the way. That’s what’s on my mind as I close my eyes, and sleep doesn’t take long to catch up with me.
It can’t be more than a few moments before the bed shifts, and my eyes fly open in surprise. It’s fully dark now, so dark I can only make out Lucas’s outline as he climbs into bed with me. “There you are,” I whisper in relief.
“Here I am.” He strokes my cheek before pressing a tender kiss against my forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
“I didn’t think you would ever come up.”
He pulls me into his arms, and I let my head drop onto his chest. “I had some things to take care of, but everything is going to be fine now.”
I can believe that when it’s like this, when we’re together in the dark, and I’m enclosed in the safety of his arms, with the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. I can believe everything will be fine in the end. A sense of deep peace settles over me, and I welcome it, smiling.
Even if there’s still the question in the back of my mind of what comes next. We aren’t going to stay here forever, I’m sure of that. I know he has money, even if I don’t know how much, but he was prepared to set me up in an apartment and everything, right?
Sure, when he had a job. Now that he’s been fired, what does that mean? Will he have to find something else? What would a man like him even do?
I want to ask all of it if only for my own peace of mind. But I’m too tired and too happy to be held like this. Why ruin it? It can all wait until morning.
Besides, he said everything was going to be okay now.
* * *
I’m alone again.
I sit up, looking toward the bathroom. The door’s open, and the light is off. Not the first time I’ve woken up wondering where Lucas ran off to. This time, I’m not coming out of a nightmare, and I won’t be wandering the house in search of him. It feels like so much time has passed since then, but it’s only been weeks. Still, I feel older as I get out of bed and go to the bathroom to wash up, then get dressed in last night’s clothes.
With all the excitement yesterday, I didn’t really eat anything, so it’s no surprise my stomach is roaring in displeasure by the time I creep out of the bedroom and head downstairs. It’s still awkward walking around in a house that doesn’t belong to me, one where it’s obvious my presence isn’t exactly welcome. I remind myself I’m with Lucas, and it was his choice to bring me. That means I belong, right?
That way of thinking lasts approximately as long as it takes me to reach the kitchen, where Lucas and Nic are seated at the table by the window. They’re nursing cups of coffee, and neither of them looks thrilled to look up and find me staring at them.