She continued without letting me say a word. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m asking you that. I always envision you running around like James Bond doing whatever you want and knowing everything. My family paints that picture, you know? Like maybe you know everything that’s going on right now when obviously you don’t.” She took a big breath that didn’t really do much to calm her. “And I’m rambling when I shouldn’t be.”
“It’s fine.” Her rapid breathing was starting to stir something in me that I couldn’t handle right now. I put my hand on my chest. “Delilah, seven breaths? Huh?”
She glanced at my hand, and her brow furrowed. Then she whispered, “Seven’ll bring heaven?”
I nodded and smiled. We breathed together. Synced for just a second. It was enough time to calm us both, though, to get us on the same page.
After seeing color return to her cheeks and how her shoulders relaxed, I said, “It’s good to see you, Lilah.”
She pursed her plump lips and then she chuckled. It was huskier than I remembered. “Not under these circumstances, though.”
“Still good to see you. You haven’t been back over the last couple of years when I was home from leave.”
“Yeah, life I guess.” She shrugged while she stared out at that building.
Damn, this was going to hurt.
I knew avoiding the truth and pain it brought never helped. I only waited when it would prolong the torture for some enemy I was dealing with. Now, with her, I needed to be honest.
I dropped the bomb as I pushed the car ignition. “Your sister’s staying in jail.”
“What?” The screech that rang through the car was full of fear, anger, and shock. When I didn’t reply and started to shift into drive. But that little hand of hers, so small I could break it, went right on top of mine and shoved the gear back into park. “Dante! What the fuck? What do you mean?”
I lifted a brow at her swearing. “I mean what I said.”
“You can’t just leave.” Her hand dug into mine harder, and I saw the pink on her cheeks deepen in anger rather than embarrassment. That pink was almost the same color as something else of hers I remembered, and fuck me, I did not need to be imagining it right now.
I had years of training. I went to great lengths to keep those around me calm, keep us focused on a mission, and complete objectives flawlessly.
Yet, most of those situations were life and death.
Here, I didn’t know how to act. I’d been with women and made them comfortable, understood their emotions. They understood mine too. Delilah and I were different.
She was so good that her mom once told my mom that she’d forgotten Lilah somewhere because she was so quiet and well-behaved that there was no way of knowing whether she was there or not.
It wasn’t like that for me. Today, and most every day, I knew when she was there.
Maybe I’d invested too much in hope, pictured our families merging with her taking my damn name. I realized I’d loved her for a long time. And when she didn’t write, I still held on to hope.
I wanted her to see me, thought the holidays would be better.
Instead, Christmas had been a shit show.
“Man,what the fuck you dressed up for? We going out to the bar after dinner?” Dom asked me as I searched the room for her.
Telling my best friend that I’d put my damn cologne on for his kid sister was not something I was about to do. “Well, I’m not going out looking like your ass. You wearing sweats to pick up Susie tonight?”
“I don’t need to wear anything to pick up Susie.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, and Dex elbowed him with a glare, probably because he was sweet on Susie at this point.
This was the normal cycle of the small town: we all flew back in, enjoyed our family, then went to the little bar in the village. High school flames were rekindled for a night, along with drama and petty bullshit.
I loved it.
It was comfort; it was home.
It’d been only two weeks earlier that I’d been overseas, on top of a building that was on fire, trying to snipe a terrorist. That year, I’d become ruthless in my missions, and when Lilah didn’t email me back, I’d pushed for more training within Special Ops. I’d taken contract work, I’d worked with the government, the mob, specific embassies. Hours of running, sleep deprivation, and fighting.
“What the hell are you trying so hard for anyway, Dante?” Dom asked. “You’re making us all look like pansies. Delta Force and dressed in some expensive jeans. How much did those cost anyway? I could make millions in tech, and every girl is still going to only want you.”