“Good for you.”
I stand up, taking a sip of my coffee before shoving my phone in my back pocket.
“Ready to get to work?” she asks.
“Yeah. Let’s load the last of the small boxes. The furniture movers will be here around noon,” I say. “Just promise me one thing.”
“Sure?”
“Don’t tell Aunt Rue about this. I’m not in the mood for one of her lectures, and I know she’ll march over there and give him the what-for, and I just don’t want to spend my last day here dealing with any of that.”
“Won’t say a word.” Daphne slips her arm around my shoulder and we head to one of the back rooms where Rue keeps her doll collection and crystal.
“And promise me one other thing,” I say as we walk.
“Of course.”
I bite down on my trembling lip, hoping the physical pain will override the emotional. “Promise it won’t feel like this forever.”
“It won’t. It gets better. I promise.”
We stop in the hall and she wraps me in her arms. She’s a good three inches taller than me, and I bury my head in her shoulder.
“I don’t understand.” My words are muffled against her shirt.
“And you never will.” She rubs circles into my back. “All you can do is move on and try to forget.”
Our sweet summer fling has officially left a nasty taste in my mouth. I’ve spent the summer drunk on endorphins and adrenaline rushes, Oxytocin, and lust. But now it’s a toxic combination, coursing through my veins and making me sick.
I want to forget.
I want to forget everything about him.
Chapter 37
Zane
Five calls. Four texts. Nothing’s going through.
She’s blocked me.
Which means she doesn’t want to talk to me . . .
Which means she’ll never hear the truth . . .
Which means she’ll leave here tomorrow, hurt, because of something she thinks I did.
I slam my phone down and glance out the window in time to see a moving truck back into Rue’s driveway.
Daphne ambles across the drive, motioning for the truck to come a little closer and then telling it when to stop.
My heart races, pounding so hard I can’t think straight. Without hesitating or thinking any of this through, I grab a piece of paper and scribble down a note.
Gorgeous,
Please take my calls. Please come see me before you leave. It’s not what you think.
I love you.
de la Cruz
I read the note and crumple it up. I’m not telling her I love her in a note. That’s fucking lame. We’re not in junior high.
I grab another sheet and write the note again, this time omitting the part where I tell her I love her. Someday, when I get a chance, I’m going to tell her to her face. She’ll get to hear it straight from me.
Slipping on tennis shoes, I run outside before Daphne disappears, ignoring the horrified look on her face when she sees me coming at her.
“Daphne, I swear to you it isn’t what it looked like. What did you tell her?” I hook my hands on my hips, squinting, the letter folded neatly in my left palm.
“I told her what I saw.” Her voice is laced with disgust. This isn’t the Daphne I met a couple of months ago. This Daphne hates my fucking guts. “And you shouldn’t be here. I don’t want my sister seeing you, especially after I spent all morning calming her down.”
“Jesus.” I run my hand through my hair, tugging a small fistful. The last thing I want to do is hurt Delilah. “Daphne, you have to give this to her.”
I slip her the note.
“She’s not taking my calls or texts, and I have to explain everything to her before she leaves tomorrow.”
Daphne cocks her head to the side, examining me. Behind her, one of the movers stands with a clipboard, clearly needing her attention. But I need it more.
“Whatever explanation you’re going to give her, which I’m sure will be some kind of variation of the truth that paints you in some saintly light . . . is it even going to change anything? She’s going back to college in a month and you’re here playing football. You already made it crystal clear to her this summer that she’s nothing more than your own personal sex toy.” Daphne huffs. “You had fun. I get it. But now she’s hurt, and you have the nerve to stand here acting like you deserve another chance?”
“Ma’am?” The driver of the moving truck lifts a finger. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I just have some questions before we get started.”
“Yes. Sorry.” Daphne spins around, ending our discussion before I have the chance to tell her that Delilah was so much more than what I gave her credit for this summer.
In many ways, she saved me.
I watch Daphne shove the note in her side pocket and lead the movers inside the house.
Lingering for a moment, I watch the door on the off chance Delilah might come out, but she never does.
Tonight I’m throwing rocks at her window.
Tonight I’ll do whatever it takes.
I have to see her one last time.
She can’t leave here thinking I didn’t care about her.
She can’t leave here never knowing that I loved her.
And that I still do.
Chapter 38
Delilah
Two Months Later . . .
I close the lid to my laptop and shut my textbook. I’ve been working on this research paper for five straight hours, and my vision’s beginning to blur from too much screen time.