Until Delilah

by Harlow Layne

  Little does he know I’ll do everything possible so no one learns the reason we moved to their little town.

  Max pulls up to the same spot I had him drop us off the night before. It’s in front of an apartment building about a mile away from the shelter. If there had been any place closer, I would have had him drop us off there, but sadly, most of it is businesses, and that would only lead to questions I don’t want to answer.

  “Do you need any help getting inside?” he asks.

  “We’re good, but thank you. You’re too kind.” I lift up a hand and wave. Beckham tries to give an enthusiastic wave too but fails due to his exhaustion. “We’ll see you at the game on Saturday.”

  Standing in the parking lot, we wait until Max’s truck is out of sight and then I hold my arms open, knowing I can’t ask my son to walk the mile it will take us to get to the shelter. He’s already dead on his feet and I have a feeling I’ll be the same once we get to the shelter.

  After twenty very long minutes, I stand at the door to the women’s shelter and try the door one more time only for it not to budge. I read over the sign again, only I can’t see the words as I tear up, but I have the words burned into my mind.

  Doors are locked promptly at nine o’clock sharp and will be opened again in the morning at eight a.m.

  4

  Max

  I’m pulling into my driveway with thoughts of Delilah and Beckham running through my head when Mom calls.

  “Hey, is everything okay?” She doesn’t normally call this late unless something’s happened.

  “You could say that. I just got a call from a very upset Delilah.” She continues to talk, but I don’t hear her. What could Delilah be upset about?

  When I finally tune back in the last word I hear is shelter.

  “I’m sorry you’re going to have to repeat that. Why’d she call you?” Why hadn’t Delilah called me? It’s then I realize she doesn’t have my number, making it impossible for her.

  “Did you know she and her son are staying at the women’s shelter?”

  “No,” I draw out the word thinking of the apartment building I dropped her off at twenty minutes ago.

  “Well, I guess that’s where she’s staying. It was difficult to understand some of what she was saying between bouts of crying. I told her I’d come pick them up, but I thought—”

  “I’m on my way,” I interrupt while backing out of my driveway.

  “That’s what I thought. While I don’t expect a full report tonight, I do expect one the first chance you get. Why would she lie about where she’s staying?”

  “Would you want anyone to know you were staying there?”

  Delilah has been pretty cagey about answering questions and now things are starting to make a little more sense, but there are still plenty of things that don’t add up, and sooner or later, I’m going to get her to open up to me. Even if it’s the last thing I do.

  “Are they okay besides being locked out?” I ask as I start to speed down the road that leads from my house.

  My house is tucked away from the town and private. Just the way I wanted it after I moved back to my hometown. The last thing I wanted was to have neighbors stopping by whenever they felt like it to shoot the shit with me.

  “I think so. They’re probably just tired. Can you text me after you drop them off—”

  Again, I interrupt her. “I’m bringing them back to my place. I’ll text you once I know they’re asleep. How does that sound?”

  “That’s what I thought.” I hear the smile in her voice.

  While it took me twenty minutes to get to my house from where Delilah had me drop them off, it only takes me ten to pull up outside the shelter. My teeth grind together as I hop out of my truck and walk over to where Delilah is sitting on the curb with her son on her lap.

  “Max, what are you doing here?” She starts to stand with Beckham in her arms and I catch her elbow to help bring her to stand the last few inches.

  “My mom called me and told me you called her upset about being locked out of the shelter, which is strange since I dropped you off at an apartment building a mile back. Do you want to tell me why you lied to me?”

  Her blue eyes flare, but her voice is hushed when she speaks. “Can we talk about this later? I would really appreciate it if you could take us to the nearest hotel.”

  There’s no way in hell I’m taking her to a hotel, but she doesn’t need to know that. Instead, I nod and take Beckham from her and place him in the backseat of my truck. We’re silent as I pull out of the parking lot. It’s taking everything in me not to yell at her and then question her about why she’s staying at the battered women’s shelter. Now the split lip and bruising make more sense.

  When we’re on the long road heading to my house, she breaks the silence. “Where are you taking us?”

  “I’m not taking you to a hotel, Delilah. Tonight, you and your son are staying with me. Tomorrow we’ll talk about your living situation.”

  “You’re not the boss of me. What’s stopping me from calling an Uber and leaving the moment you fall asleep?” she whisper-yells.

  Leaning over, I keep my eyes on the road, but direct my voice so only she can hear. “How about the tired little boy in the backseat of my truck? Don’t you think he deserves a good night's sleep? He’s not going to get that if you keep shuffling him around all night.”

  Her blue eyes turn glassy as she stares straight ahead without answering me, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap.

  I expect some sort of reaction from her when she sees my house but get nothing. After living in an apartment in New York for most of my adult life, I wanted a place where I could spread out and when I found this house for sale, I knew it was the house for me. It’s too big for one person, but I’ve always hoped I’d find ‘the one’ like my father and we’d have kids to fill it up. Never did I think the first person spending the night would be one of the baseball moms and her son.

  Delilah jumps from the truck the moment I put it into park and starts for the back door to get Beckham out, but I stop her with a hand to her shoulder. “I’ll get him and take him to one of the spare bedrooms.”

  “You don’t need to do that. I’m fully capable of carrying my own son.”

  “I know you are, but I also know it’s a whole lot easier for me to lift and carry him than you. Let me do this.” I can’t believe she’s fighting me on this. She looks exhausted.

  I hear Delilah continually huff as she follows behind me through the kitchen, living area, and then up the stairs. I pick the first door on the right to place Beckham in. It has a Jack and Jill bathroom they can share.

  Delilah shuffles past me and pulls down the comforter and sheet, so I can lay her son down. I let her do what she needs to do and move to stand by the door. Carefully she pulls off his tennis shoes and socks and then pulls the covers up to his shoulders before she sweeps his hair off his forehead and places a gentle kiss there. She walks backwards, keeping her eyes on her son until she’s only a couple of feet away from me. As if she can feel my proximity, Delilah turns on her heel and stares me down.

  Not wanting our time to be over, I start to head downstairs. I look over my shoulder halfway down to make sure she’s following me. I wouldn’t put it past her to climb into bed with her son just to be difficult. I find her staring daggers into the back of my skull, and I can’t help but smirk. She’s even more gorgeous when she’s mad. There’s something about the fire in her eyes that has my cock twitching.

  The second we hit the living area, Delilah rounds on me and puts her finger to my chest. “I will not have another man tell me what I can and cannot do with my child. You don’t know him or what’s best for him.”

  “I never said I did, but even an idiot could see how tired he was. He was about ready to pass out when I dropped you off and he was asleep on you when I picked up back up. Tell me, did he walk the mile to the shelter?”

  Her eyes turn to slits. “Of course, not. What kin
d of mother do you take me for?”

  “One that lies. I don’t know why you didn’t tell me you were staying at the shelter. I would have happily dropped you off there.”

  “And then you would have asked questions. Questions I don’t want to answer. Questions I can’t answer,” she yells, but then covers her mouth and looks up the stairs.

  “I’m not going to press you for answers tonight, but tomorrow you need to start telling me some truths. And if you think about trying to leave in the middle of the night, you better forget about it. The alarm will be set and if you so much as try to leave it will go off.”

  Her hands go to her curvy hips. “So, we’re prisoners in your house?”

  “If that’s the way you want to think about it to make you feel better, then yes, you’re my prisoner for the night. I’m probably the nicest jailer you’ll ever meet. I only want what’s best for you and your son.”

  “Why?” she whispers as a lone tear streaks down her cheek.

  Only I can’t answer her question because I haven’t figured out why I brought them to my house.

  5

  Delilah

  Shuffling around Max’s kitchen trying to find everything is a pleasant chore. His kitchen is a dream with black and white veined cream marble countertops and dark wood cabinets and floors. All of the appliances are top of the line and look as if they’ve never been used along with all the pots and pans. The best part is the big picture window along one wall that has a small table with four chairs around it. I could sit and look out of it for days on end.

  The backdrop to Max’s house is a stream with a forest behind it. I can’t imagine how beautiful it is in the fall with the leaves changing colors, or in winter with the ground covered in snow.

  I’m placing the last few pancakes I’ve made on a plate when the man himself strides into the kitchen and comes to an abrupt halt when he sees me at his counter with a spread of food put out for him. He stands before me in a pair of gray sweatpants, a tight white t-shirt, and barefoot. Damn, is he fine. Is this what most baseball players look like? If so, I need to start paying more attention.

  The food I made is my way of apologizing for last night. I took out my frustrations with Bradley on him. Max has done nothing but be kind to me, and I treated him horribly.

  “What’s all this?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest with his piercing blue eyes hard like ice, trained on me. I can’t help but watch as his biceps bulge with the movement.

  Clearing my throat, I come around the counter to stand in front of him. I have to crane my head up to look him in the eye, but I don’t mind. All my life I’ve had to look up to my dad who stands six-foot-three and if I had to guess, I’d say Max is six-four or five.

  “This is my way of apologizing for last night. You took us in when you could have easily dropped us off at a hotel and been done with us. Life hasn’t been easy as of late and I took that out on you.”

  His eyes soften as he looks down at me. “This is the first time anyone’s ever cooked in my house.”

  I was right in assuming nothing had been used before.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I thought a nice breakfast to start the day off right, might help in my apology.” I indicate the pancakes, eggs, and bacon I’d made. Why did he have all this food if he doesn’t cook, though?

  “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

  Before he can say anything else, I hold up my hand. “I beg to differ. I need to leave my baggage at the door, but…” Easier said than done. Especially with realizing all the signs I’d missed with Bradley.

  “But what Delilah?” He steps closer to me but doesn’t touch me. “You can open up to me. I promise I won’t be like Kari and spread whatever you tell me all over town. I like my privacy as well.”

  “Why don’t we get our food and then maybe I can try to explain?” I’m not going to tell him everything, but I’ll tell him enough that he’ll think it’s why I’m where I am now.

  Max looks around the room, and then his penetrating gaze comes back to me. “Where’s Beckham?”

  “He’s upstairs taking a shower before I have to take him to school.” I look down at the time on my phone and try to predict how early we need to leave here to get to the shelter, and then school from where we are now.

  “I can take him. Take you both,” he amends.

  “If you’re sure. I don’t want to be any trouble. You’ve already been more than kind.” Surely, he has better things to do with his time than shuttle us around.

  “I don’t offer if I don’t mean it.” He picks up a plate and starts to pile food on it. “You and Beckham are never a problem, so get that out of your head.”

  I make a plate for Beckham and set it down at the table and then go about making one for me before I sit at the other end of the table from Max.

  “I want to say this before Beckham comes down. He knows most of this, but I hate for him to have to relive it.” I take a deep breath and steel myself for what I’m about to say. It will be the first time I’ve admitted this to anyone, and it’s to a stranger no less.

  “Okay,” Max nods. “I’ll try not to interrupt.”

  “Thank you. Beckham’s father died when he was only a baby. I was depressed for a long time and had no idea where my life was going. I should have moved back to LA to be closer to my family, but I stayed in Biloxi where Jacob was stationed until he was deployed.” I try to clear the emotion from my throat, but it’s no use. It nearly prevents me from speaking it’s so thick as I continue. “When Beckham was three, I met a charming man who promised to give me the world, and I believed him. I was desperate for Beckham to have a father figure and not long after I started dating Bradley, we moved into his house.”

  Max’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t stop me. I also hear Beckham upstairs. He must be out of his shower and will soon be down, so I need to hurry up.

  “I should have seen the signs of how controlling he was, but I was in denial. I was surprised any man wanted me with a three-year-old attached to my hip. The day after we moved in, I was given a strict list of rules I was to adhere to. Little by little, I slowly started to lose myself as I was kept isolated from the world. The only time I went out was to dinners where I accompanied Bradley. I was to be seen and not heard.

  “It changed some when Beckham started school last year, but not for the better. Bradley didn’t like the fact that I had to spend time away from the house, but I wanted to be a part of Beckham’s school. I met a few moms, but we never became what I’d call friends. You’d think with us living with Bradley since Beckham was three, they would have bonded somewhat, but that was the furthest thing from what happened. Bradley would mention often about Beckham being someone else’s child and I think he was jealous.” I shrug, unsure why he was an asshole to my sweet boy. “I hate myself for not leaving sooner. My son is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and he’s so sweet and polite. He never did anything wrong, but Bradley hated him for whatever reason. I never should have put him in a position for him to ever feel that.”

  Max reaches across the table and places his hand on mine. “He’s the best kid I’ve ever met. You’ve done a good job with him.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot.” I point to the light bruising by my eye. “This happened the day I found out I was pregnant.” It’s not a total lie, but Bradley didn’t beat me up because I was pregnant, rather because of the information I’d found out about him. I only found out once I was at the hospital and they checked me out. “I left in the middle of the night. Left behind my phone, the money in my bank account, most of my clothes. Everything to start a new life without him in it, but I’m afraid he’s going to find me, and when he does…”

  The veins in Max’s neck stand out as his jaw tics. “I won’t let anything happen to you or your son. I promise you. Can I ask you what this Bradley does?” Max sneers when he says Bradley’s name.

  “His family is very powerful in Mississippi, and so is he.” That’s a
ll he needs to know. With what little I’ve given him, it will be too difficult for him to figure out who I’m talking about.

  “I don’t want you staying at the shelter anymore.” His hand that’s still on top of mine tightens. “You can stay here until you get a job and on your feet. No one will come looking for you here, and if they do, I have a state-of-the-art security system.”

  “Max, you’re too kind, but really we can’t impose on you like that.”

  It’s then Beckham comes barreling down the stairs with a big smile on his face. He sits down in the open chair where his plate of food sits.

  “Good morning,” Max greets him. “Did you sleep good last night?”

  Beckham nods as he takes a bite of his bacon.

  “What would you say if I told you, I’m going to take you to school today?” Max beams a smile down at Beckham.

  “That would be the best day ever.” Beckham smiles, looking back and forth between me and Max.

  “I was just telling your mom, I think the two of you should stay here until she can find a job.”

  My eyes narrow and I’m pretty sure a hiss of displeasure comes out.

  “Really?” Beckham bounces in his seat.

  “Why not? I’ve got plenty of room,” Max sweeps his arm in the air indicating his space. “Would you like to stay here?”

  “Yes, please.” My son looks at me with hopeful eyes. “Do you think GiGi and PopPop can visit?”

  “We don’t want to be a burden, honey, and Gigi and PopPop are on a trip right now.” He hangs his head, making me feel bad for how long it’s been since he’s seen my parents in person. “Maybe we can FaceTime them, and once they’re back, we can plan a visit.”

  I know once my parents learn what happened, they’ll hop on a plane and be here in a day. While I want to see them, I don’t want to answer all the questions they’ll be sure to ask. I’m too ashamed to face them. I have been for a long time.