She rolls her eyes again. I swear they’re gonna roll right out of her sockets one day. She shivers slightly against the cold, and I reach behind me for the second blanket I’d pulled from the truck. “Here,” I say, shaking it out and then draping it over her shoulders.
“Oh,” she says in surprise. She pulls it tighter around herself, snuggling in. “Thanks.”
I tug my own jacket closed a bit more. It’s gotten a little nippy out.
“What about other aspects of your life?” Delilah asks, her voice a bit softer.
I arch an eyebrow. “Like what?”
She wags her head a bit before answering, “Relationships?” She shoots a glance at me, then looks back at the fire. “I’m aware of your reputation, Graham. Have you ever thought about finding someone and settling down?”
Amusement flickers through me. “Are you offering?” It’s a joke, but for some reason, I regret it the instant it leaves my lips.
“We’re trying to avoid Harrison killing us, remember?” Delilah snorts. “No, I’m just curious.”
An odd mixture of relief and something else I can’t quite identify shoots through me. I clear my throat. “I honestly don’t ever plan on getting married or anything like that.”
Genuine shock skates across Delilah’s face. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Why?”
I take a deep breath. It’s not a topic of conversation I broach often—or ever. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve shared the details of this decision with anyone. Not even Harrison. Although if I had to guess, I think he’s probably deduced it for himself.
So I’m not exactly sure what it is that has me considering actually answering Delilah in this moment. Not brushing it off or lying. Maybe it’s because she’s seen me at almost every point in my life—even if we were never particularly close. “You know how when we were kids and I always came over to your and Harrison’s house? He never really came to mine?” The wordstumble out of me before I really have time to process what I’m sharing.
She frowns. “Yeah.”
“It’s because of my parents.”
She’s silent, waiting for me to continue.
I stare into the fire ahead, watching the flames dance, casting shadows across our feet. “They fought. Like, all the time. Sometimes just bickering, sometimes full-on meltdowns. They might have loved each other, who knows? But they were miserable. And they still are. They’re still, to this day, together, fighting.” I sigh. “And it’s not just them. I see it all the time. People get married, and they get miserable. And from the outside, all I can see it as is some sort of awful … trap.”
The admission falls heavy into the silence, and for a second, I regret ever giving in and answering her question. But then there’s a tug at my wrist, and I look down to see Delilah intertwining her fingers with mine. It’s so sudden and soft and small, and yet it has my heart doing the strangest of things.Aching. Like it wants to burst out of my chest or something.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “For having to deal with that growing up. I’m not going to argue with you—you’re the only one who can decide what’s best for you. But there are people who are happily in love. They exist. I think it has more to do with the people in the relationships than the relationships themselves.”
I nod. I don’t know if I agree with her. But I don’t know if I necessarily disagree with her either.
“I’m gonna sound like the most cliched mom on the planet, but you probably just need to find the right girl,” Delilah says with a small laugh.
The right girl. Fuck. Normally I’d be shooting that comment down within seconds, but something about it has my heart doing that weird fucking thing again, and I’m lost for words.
So instead, I simply clear my throat and ask, “Hand me another beer, will you?”
Chapter eleven
Delilah
I wake to the sound of birds chirping and a semi-frantic Graham, whispering, “Delilah! Wake up!”
I groan, opening my eyes and squinting. And I register a number of things. The dying campfire across from me, Graham’s chest, upon which my head is resting, and the dusky, dark blue sky of dawn.
I sit upright so fast, I’m dizzy. “Holy shit, did we … fall asleep?” I ask, glancing around us.
“Apparently,” Graham mumbles, seeming just as dazed as I am.
