“Still. This is a piece of your legacy, and you have the power to keep it alive.” She places her hand on my arm. “Anyway, it’s just a thought.”
I’m not one for drudging up the past or lingering too long on Memory Lane, but seeing my childhood home in such a state of decay makes my chest hurt. Magdalena worked hard for this house. Two jobs. Thousands of clipped coupons. She did everything she could to keep me in a safe neighborhood with decent schools.
Glancing up at the top window on the left side, I instantly remember being that twelve-year-old kid with an obsession with football and dreams bigger than his britches.
In a weird sort of way, I’m proud of him.
He never gave up, not even when things got too hard.
Turning to Delilah, I give her a bittersweet smile. I can’t stay here much longer.
“Let’s go back to the hotel.” I point to the car and she nods, heels clicking on the broken, weed-filled sidewalk.
The ride back is mostly quiet, each of us lost in our thoughts I suppose, but every time we pass a streetlight and it shines in, her beautiful face is illuminated, and some kind of peaceful feeling washes over me.
It’s strange and exciting in ways I never could have anticipated with her.
And above all else, it’s scary as hell.
I’m not afraid of much in this life, not after what I’ve gone through, but falling for someone like Delilah is downright terrifying . . .
And I feel it happening in real time.
Sometimes it’s slow.
Sometimes it’s all at once.
Sometimes I can’t get her out of my head, and I replay our moments together on some kind of slow-motion instant replay.
Scratch that. Most of the time I can’t get her out of my head.
But it wasn’t supposed to be like that because in a little over a month, she’ll be gone and life will go on. Today she’s my friend. Tonight she’s my lover. And tomorrow . . .
I can’t think about it. I can’t think beyond right here and right now.
Reaching across the car, I take her hand in mine.
God, it feels good to be close to someone again.
She moves closer, resting her head on my shoulder, and she yawns. Tonight won’t be about sex, and for the first time in a long time, I’m perfectly fine with that.
For some insane reason, I just want to be next to her.
Chapter 27
Delilah
This morning I woke up to Zane’s tongue between my thighs and a covered plate from room service on the bedside table next to me. After that, we did some light shopping and headed to the airport for an early afternoon flight home.
Now I’m back in Laguna Palms, sitting at Aunt Rue’s kitchen table as she grills me about my weekend away.
“That boy is so sweet on you.” She says it like it’s a bad thing.
“We’re just friends, Aunt Rue.”
“Who just sweeps a young lady across the country and treats her to a fancy weekend in Chicago?”
“I think he’s lonely.” I wrap my hands around the mug of cappuccino before me, feeling the weight of Aunt Rue’s discerning stare. “He’s been through a lot.”
She scoffs, crossing and re-crossing her legs. “Still no excuse to act like a damn fool.”
“It’s easy to judge him,” I say, glancing across the table at her. “He’s a good person. He means well. His delivery might need a bit of work, but he’s making progress. I mean, he’s a completely different person than the one I met last month. I couldn’t even be around him without seeing red, and now I look forward to seeing him.”
“Oh, Jesus, Delilah. Don’t tell me you’re in love.”
I laugh. “Not in love. Just enjoying each other’s company. As friends.”
She gives me a squinty side-eye and rises to refill her coffee. “I don’t know, Delilah. I still think he’s a heartbreaker. Just wait until that shine wears off.”
“Thanks.” My lips purse flat.
“I don’t mean it in a personal way. Every relationship has a shiny period where you look past each other’s misgivings and can’t get enough of each other.”
“Fortunately Zane and I are not in a relationship, so . . .”
“You kids and your complicated social dynamics. I’ll never understand it.” She takes her seat, swatting her hand at me. “Either you’re together or you’re not. There should be no in between.”
“It’s just a summer fling.” I take a sip, looping my thumb through the mug handle. “No strings. We’re just having fun. If either of us gets hurt, it’ll be our own fault for getting attached.”
“Are you attached, Delilah?” She peers down the bridge of her nose.
“No. Of course not.”
“Could you walk out of here tomorrow, never see that boy again, and life would go on without a hitch?”
I stare off to the side, trying to imagine what that might feel like, and I find myself struggling to breathe.
“There’s your answer.” Rue slaps the table.
“I feel like you’re mad at me, Aunt Rue . . .”
“I’m not mad. I just love you so much, sweetie, I don’t want to see you get hurt. When I look at you, I see my little string bean with braces and glasses and curly hair that sticks out at the sides.” She wears a warm, melancholy smile. “I want you to stay young and innocent forever. I know. That’s selfish of me.”