Then I turn.
Delaney’s face crumples. Her knees wobble, and I catch her before she can think better of it.
She presses her forehead into my chest, breath hitching, shoulders shaking. She’s been holding herself together since the second she saw him.
“I didn’t want him to find me,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say.
“I didn’t want this to touch my life here.”
“I know,” I repeat.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes red and wet and furious with herself. “I wasn’t hiding because I was guilty.”
“I know.”
The words land differently this time.
She nods once, letting herself believe me.
“Let’s go home,” I say gently.
She doesn’t argue.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Delaney
By evening,the house has gone quiet in a way that makes my skin prickle.
I sit on the edge of my bed longer than necessary.
My hair is still damp from the shower. My skin smells of soap and hot water and effort. I scrubbed harder than I needed to, like I could wash away the echo of his hand on my wrist. My body knows better. It remembers things my brain would rather compress into something smaller and easier to live with.
I’m not shaking anymore.
That almost scares me.
Eventually, I force myself up and follow the low murmur of voices down the hall. Each step is a decision. Each breath feels like something I have to remember how to do.
They’re all there.
Boone in his chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, holding the room together by force alone. Caleb on the couch, posture relaxed but eyes sharp, tracking me the second I appear. He’s been waiting for this moment without wanting to rush it. Silas leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight in a way that tells me the jokes are staying locked away tonight.
No one speaks. They just look at me.
I sit on the edge of the chair like I might bolt if I get too comfortable. Boone slides a glass of water across the table toward me without asking. I wrap my hands around it even though I’m not thirsty. I just need something solid.
“I’m sorry,” I say, because it’s the reflex I haven’t trained out of myself yet.
Silas exhales sharply. “Nope.”
I blink.
“That’s not how this goes,” he says. “You don’t apologize for someone cornering you.”
My mouth opens. Closes. I nod instead.
