“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears sliding from her eyes.
Michael stared into her face, his hands gripping her thighs so tightly he was bruising her. “I don’t care that you’re sorry, Del, I only care that you hurt.”
“I do, Michael,” she whimpered as he thrust into her again. “I hurt so much.”
Michael sneered. “Good, you deserve it. I’m the only man that can ever accept you. Remember that.”
She nodded and squeezed her eyes closed, unsure what was real and what wasn’t anymore.
“You’re mine, Del, only mine. Always mine, and I’m going to make you pay for thinking you could ever get away from me.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven.
Elijah
Elijah stared out at the Grand Canyon.
It was dark on the trail, just the freckles of stars spotted across the night sky. A clear night. A humid night. A silent night. He looked out across the rocky canyon rim, and he tried to think of nothing. He tried to stop his thoughts from rolling into one and consuming him.
Guilt. He felt guilt. So much guilt it was eating him up inside.
He loved Delores, but he had no idea of how to help her. She was fucked up; that much was obvious. And the life they had planned together was all gone. Destroyed by her sickness.
Elijah had left his cell in his car, not wanting to be disturbed. He needed the peace and quiet to think, to work, to decide. He would stand by her, he already knew that. There was never any question of that. He loved her. He just couldn’t think of a way to help her. He couldn’t imagine pulling her back from this.
He listened to the quiet hush of the world and he thought of her face the day after they had slept together. The way she had looked at him like life was new and good and pure, and was something to be happy about. She said she couldn’t remember how to be happy anymore. Until that moment.
*
‘I want to be happy, Elijah.’
‘I want you to be too.’
Delores looked down at her body, the thin white cotton sheet covering her nakedness. It had been their first time, and she had thought their last. A cheap motel for a cheap deed. She had thought she was doing it for revenge. But now she realised she wasn’t. Now she realised that she wanted more. That she deserved more.
‘Tell me what I can do, Delores,’ Elijah said, sitting up and putting his arms around her waist. He kissed the back of her neck and placed his stubbly face against her shoulder. He inhaled her scent, the sweet musk of sex still clinging to her soft skin. ‘Tell me how I can help.’
She shook her head, her brown hair tickling her skin. ‘You already have,’ she said, turning her head to the side to look at him.
She reached around and touched the side of his face. He kissed her palm and looked up at her, his brown eyes so much softer, so much warmer than Michael’s.
‘You already have,’ she said again and smiled.
Elijah smiled back. ‘Have?’ He sat up and gently pushed her back down on to the bed, leaning over her. She blushed. He liked it when she blushed. He loved the look of innocence on her face. The way the redness crept into her pale cheeks and gave her new life. ‘Can I help you again?’ he grinned, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.
Delores laughed. It was a sound she hadn’t heard in so long. And then she cried. A sound that she’d heard too much.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,’ Elijah said, pulling away and starting to sit up.
Delores’s arms flew up, her hands wrapping around his shoulders as she pulled him back down to her. ‘You didn’t. Not you, you didn’t upset me. You couldn’t.’ She pulled his face to hers and kissed him, hard. She hooked a leg around the back of his, wanting him closer to her.
His hand moved to pull the sheet from her body so that their bodies were touching again. Closer.
Closer.
They could never be too close.
She felt him between her thighs, and she almost cried again with the need for him to be closer to her. He could never be close enough to wash away her ache of loneliness. Her sadness.
