They were friends.
If Munch Brill—or any member of his never-ending family—had a problem with Travis? Too. Damn. Bad.
CHAPTER NINE
● ≈ ● ≈ ●
FOR THE FIRST time in months, Delaney found she couldn't relax around Travis. He seemed to have the same problem. Though their reasons were as different as night and day.
Delaney needed a favor. Two, actually. But one was so big, she didn't know if she'd be able to ask the question without her stomach giving up its roiling contents. Travis might not be open to granting her wish with her vomit all over his shoes.
Over and over she'd rehearsed in her head the perfect phrasing. Every time—in the privacy of her room and the security of her thoughts—Travis said yes. Now that the time had come, she wondered which would be worse. A flat-out no. Or—Delaney swallowed—if he laughed in her face because he found the idea ridiculous.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, giving her chin someplace to rest as she waited for Travis to expel his pent-up energy.
One second he paced the length of the clearing, the next he'd flop down next to her under their usual tree. At the moment, his long legs carried him in a circle around the small piece of real estate.
"I wish you could come to the tournament," Travis said, absently tossing a baseball in the air.
The state baseball tournament would take place next week over two hundred miles away from Green Hills. Delaney didn't give a fig about sports. However, she'd enjoyed watching Travis when the team played at home. Even as a novice to the game, she recognized that he was good. Maybe great.
Travis played baseball with a joyful abandon she both admired and envied. The only thing close in her life was the piano. But music—at least for her—was a solitary exercise. She loved that she could disappear into herself for an hour or two, able to forget her troubles.
Though Delaney had no desire to take up a sport, she wondered what the camaraderie felt like. The bond created by teammates moving together toward the same goal.
Must be nice.
"I wish I could be there when you win the championship."
Travis stopped in mid-stride, turning his head in her direction. The smile she'd grown accustomed to—his lips curving slowly, showing off his straight, white teeth to perfection—lit up his face.
"We haven't won anything," Travis told her. Then, with one word, his smile turning cocky, he blew every trace of humility right out of the water. "Yet."
"Mm."
"Hey," Travis joined her on the dark-blue blanket—Delaney's contribution to their outings. "You were supposed to laugh. Or knock me down a peg or two. Why the frown, Del?"
"Munch will be back next week."
"Does he hit you?"
Eyes wide, Delaney wondered where that question had come from. The truth was just as dark. Maybe darker. Up until now, she'd never volunteered information about what Munch had planned for her. And Travis had never asked.
"Munch has never raised a hand—or his voice—to me."
"The fact that you don't like him is obvious." The blue of Travis' eyes turned a shade deeper, as did the tone of his voice. "Dad says Munch is a bully. Mean to the bone."
"Your dad is right." Delaney took a deep breath, sharing part of her secret for the first time. "Munch has never hurt me. Mom hasn't been as lucky."
"Del."
Travis moved closer, his arm tentatively going around her shoulders. A hug. Delaney couldn't remember the last time somebody touched her with no motives beyond simple comfort.
With a sigh, she settled her head on Travis' chest, soothed by the soft cotton of his t-shirt and the steady beat of his heart.
"Thank you for not asking why she doesn't leave."
"The question did occur to me."
"Me, too."
Since she was already there, Delaney twined her arms around Travis' waist. When his embrace tightened, she jumped all the way, snuggling as close as possible.
"I've finally come to terms with a bitter realization. Munch has beaten my mother so far down—physically and mentally—that she's paralyzed. She acts as if she can't remember what life was like before she married him." Delaney's fists clenched. "But I do."
"There must be someone outside of this godforsaken town who can help. Maybe if I—"
"No." Delaney shook her head, pulling back far enough to look Travis in the eyes. "You can't get involved, Travis. Munch—his family—there's no telling what they might do if you tried."
"Then what?" Delaney could feel the frustration vibrate through his body. "Something. Anything. Give me something to do."
Here was the opening Delaney needed. All she had to do was jump through. If she had the nerve.
"Do you believe a girl—" Delaney checked herself when she heard the word. From now on, she had to start thinking of herself differently. "Do you believe a young woman has the right to choose who will be her first lover?"
Travis seemed thrown by the question, as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around the concept.
"I believe," he began hesitantly, gaining conviction as he went, "everybody—woman or man—should have the right to choose their lovers. All the time. Every day. Old, young. And every age in between."
Delaney sighed, letting out a long breath. She hadn't expected Travis to answer any other way. However, he expressed her feeling so perfectly, she almost kissed him.
"Why did you ask?"
"My birthday is in June." Unable to meet Travis' narrowed gaze, Delaney focused on a spot just over his shoulder. "Some people think sixteen is just the right age."
"Some people? As in—? Holy shit." Travis gripped her arms, the bite of his fingers deep. "Your stepfather?"
Delaney gave Travis a small, almost imperceptible nod. Enough to answer his question and set him off like a heat-seeking missile. Thank goodness, his target was far away in Mexico.
"That sick, twisted son of a bitch. Has he—?"
"No."
Delaney hadn't known what she expected from Travis. Sympathy. Outrage. However, volatile didn't begin to describe the blue fire burning in his eyes.
"You have to get out of there. Today. We'll—"
"I have a plan, Travis."
"What about your mom? Scratch that," Travis waved away the thought. "From what you told me, she can barely breathe without asking permission. You can stay with Dad and me. If Munch tries to—"
"Travis. Travis!" Delaney had to stop him before he did something stupid. If he destroyed his hand—and possibly his baseball career—on the nearest tree, she'd never be able to live with herself.
"What?" Travis rounded on her, his chest rising and falling as he sucked in one outraged breath after another.
"Sit." Delaney patted the blanket. "Please."
"You're awfully calm, all things considered."
"I've had a lot longer to think things through," she said when he was beside her. Sitting, but not the least bit relaxed. "Munch will wait until my birthday. I don't know why. Sweet sixteen," Delaney shuddered. "And never been kissed. I never want to hear that phrase again as long as I live."
"Let's make sure you never have to."
Delaney swore her heart skipped a beat when Travis cupped her face, his gaze locked on her lips.
"Are we going to have sex?" she asked as he brushed his mouth across hers.
"Why don't we start with a kiss? Then we'll talk."
With a nod, Delaney waited. She'd been so worried for so long about avoiding Munch's kiss—and everything that came with it—that she hadn't given any thought to kissing a boy. Travis gave her enough time to prepare, but not enough to worry that she had no idea what she was supposed to do.
Thankfully, he'd kissed a girl or two in his time. All he required of Delaney was for her to relax—easier said than done—and decide if she liked the experience.
Sweet, was Delaney's first thought. She'd overheard some girls talking about how their dates slobbered all
over them. Apparently, they had never kissed Travis. His lips were neither too wet nor too dry. Too hard or too soft. Like Goldilocks, she'd found a boy who was just right.
"What do you think?" Travis whispered as his thumb lightly caressed her cheek.
"You know what you're doing."
"I've kissed a girl. Or two," he chuckled.
"Or twenty or thirty."
"Not quite that many."
Delaney didn't care about the number. Travis didn't make her feel like one of the crowd. She felt special. At this moment, they could've been the only two people in the world.
"I was going to ask if you would have sex with me." Rather than awkward—as she expected—a sense of calm had settled over her.
"I figured." Ever so gently, Travis tucked a stray hair behind Delaney's ear.
"I even stole a condom from Marnie Tillman."
Thursday afternoon, when Delaney washed her hands in the high school bathroom, Marnie's purse sat open on the counter as she gossiped with a group of friends. The sight of an open box of condoms gave Delaney a spark of inspiration. If she lost her virginity, Munch might lose interest.
"You're the only person I would ask. The only person I can trust. But because you aren't attracted to me, I was afraid you might not be able to… You know. Perform."
When Delaney's gaze dropped to the front of Travis' jeans, a burst of color suffused her cheeks.
"I'm eighteen, Del. And a guy. A strategic gust of wind can get me hard."
"Gee, thanks."
Delaney hadn't expected Travis to gush over his newfound desire for her. But finding herself compared to a random act of nature was a little rough on her already shaky ego.
"You're very pretty, Del. And I liked kissing you," Travis reassured her. "If you want me to be your first, I'd be honored."
Unlike the rest of her life where she had no control, Travis left this choice up to her. She didn't need long to decide.
"I don't want to have sex. Not now. Not in the foreseeable future."
"Then you'll wait until you're ready." Travis took her hand. "About your stepfather?"
"I told you I have a plan. This." Delaney motioned between them "Sex with you would have been a last resort."
"Gee, thanks." With a rueful twinkle in his eyes, Travis echoed her earlier response.
"You know what I meant."
"Mm." Travis lay on his back, tugging Delaney down beside him. "Now that we've settled the will we, or won't we situation, tell me your plan."
"I won't be at our graduation."
"Where will you be?"
"On a plane headed to Hawaii."
"If you need money, I can scrape a couple hundred together."
Just like that. No questions asked. Delaney couldn't think of a single thing she'd done to deserve a friend like Travis.
"Thanks, but I have enough. I already have my ticket—and a place to stay. Ms. Watts helped me arrange everything. She was sympathetic when I said I wanted to get acclimated before classes start next fall."
"Who's Ms. Watts?"
"The guidance counselor. You never met her?"
Travis shrugged. "I've never needed any guidance."
"Depends on who you ask."
"Ha, ha." Travis shifted his gaze from the sky toward Delaney. "I agree that your plan is good—in theory."
Delaney knew where Travis was headed.
"Scum like Munch? He might decide he's waited long enough."
How many times did Delaney lie in bed, diligently going over every contingency? She couldn't plug every hole because—though she often had her doubts—Munch was human. And humans were unpredictable.
"I won't let him…" Delaney choked on the words. "I won't let him. Period. I have a knife hidden under my mattress. If all else fails, I'll—"
"No!"
"Yes! I'll kill him, Travis. If you think I'm not capable, you're wrong."
"Kill the bastard—with my blessing." Travis expelled a shaky burst of air. "I thought—"
"What?"
"I was afraid you planned on killing yourself."
"Death before dishonor?" And let Munch win? "No. Not me."
"I think I love you, Delaney Pope."
"Like a sister?"
"I wouldn't kiss my sister. Or consider having sex with her. I love you like a friend."
With Travis by her side and her secrets finally out in the open, Delaney was as close to feeling at peace as she'd get until she was far, far away from Green Hills.
She would miss him. But they had here. And now.
"I love you, too. Friend."
Delaney liked the way the words sounded. She would miss Travis. So very much. But they had here. They had now. Tomorrow was too much to ask. Somewhere. Sometime. Someday. A little part of her could always hope.
Energized, Delaney jumped to her feet. She grabbed her bag, glancing at Travis as she opened the zipper.
"Would you do me a favor?"
"Seems like an unnecessary question at this point."
"You might not think so when you hear what I want. It's pretty big."
"Bigger than divesting you of your virginity?"
Understandably cautious, Travis sat up, watching as Delaney returned, carrying a sharp, metal object.
"Hold out your hand."
"Scissors?" Travis hefted the weight. "Big-ass scissors. Do I really want to know?"
"If you're careful, no blood will be shed."
Filling her lungs with air—and courage—Delaney sat, her legs crossed, her back to Travis. Reaching up, she removed the band from her hair.
"Cut it off."
"Del." She could hear when Travis gulped. "Are you sure?"
Her first open act of defiance. What could Munch do after the fact? Yell? Make her wear a wig? If Delaney thought too hard about the possibilities, she might chicken out.
"I'm sure. Cut if off."
"I've never cut anybody's hair before."
"Just make sure you leave me both my ears and we'll be fine."
Snip. A long piece of what Delaney had come to think of as chains that wore her down hit the ground. Followed by another, then another in quick succession.
As Travis found his rhythm, divesting Delaney of her burden, her head wasn't the only part of her that felt lighter. She closed her eyes and felt her spirit soar.
"Are you going to tell me when?"
"Nope," Delaney laughed. Go as short as you can go."
"IF YOU WON'T come home with me, at least let me put a lock on your bedroom door."
Parked in the shadows of the alley, Delaney hopped off Travis' bike. She removed her helmet, running her hand over the cap of spiky brown hair. Delighted by the results, she slipped off the leather jacket that had become hers by default.
"A lock won't keep out a determined Munch. If anything, trying to keep him out will make things worse. But I appreciate the thought."
Though Travis stowed the jacket for safekeeping, she'd held onto Meg Drake's commandeered jeans. When she knew she would meet Travis, she'd slip on the worn denim, careful to roll them up past her knees, so they were well hidden under her every-day dress.
Before she jumped on the back of Travis' bike, the dress came off, and the jeans came down.
"Then get rid of the knife."
Delaney frowned as she donned the pale-blue cotton sack. She didn't have to worry about hiding what she wore underneath since it was about the size of a circus tent.
"I feel safer with the knife nearby."
"False security, Del. If you're lucky—very, very lucky—the best you could hope for would be to slow Munch down. Temporarily. Most likely, he'll take the knife from you before you can do any damage. And if he's pissed off, he might cut you."
Travis made a lot of sense. Time after time, the scenario had played out in her head. Time after time, Delaney turned into a warrior goddess who possessed the kind of unbeatable strength and skill that only e
xisted in the movies.
In reality, Delaney realized as she unobtrusively flexed her puny biceps, Munch could probably defeat her with the flick of one of his sausage-like fingers.
"I should've started working out in secret."
"Building up your body isn't a bad idea. But, physically, men have the advantage."
"Men have been handed most of the advantages."
Travis wrapped his arms around Delaney. So strong, yet he didn't use his superior power to frighten or overwhelm. When he touched her, she felt safe.
"You have the greatest weapon of all, Del," Travis assured her, his lips brushing the top of her head. "Your brain. Though I'm not sure cutting your hair was terribly smart."
"Do I look that bad?" Delaney asked tentatively.
"The look suits you." Travis tipped her chin upward so he could study her face. "Though you might think twice about using the same stylist."
Delaney returned his grin.
"I don't know. If the baseball thing falls through, you might consider beauty school. Women would line up for miles for the chance to have you run your fingers through their hair."
Travis held her a minute longer, neither of them anxious to say goodbye. He'd be out of town for a week. Delaney was sure Green Hills—with Travis leading the way—would return victorious. Fingers crossed, she'd win her battle as well.
"Take care of yourself," she whispered.
"If things get bad, go to my dad. Tell him I sent you. He'll keep you safe."
She knew she'd never involve Travis' father in her mess. Munch wouldn't think twice about crushing anybody who tried to keep him from what he wanted.
But to put Travis' mind at ease. Without another word, she nodded, rushing away, down the alley and out of sight, without looking back.
As the house—she'd never thought of Munch's house as a home—came into sight, she slowed to a brisk walk, taking the front steps in two leaping bounds.
Turning the doorknob, she prepared herself for what was about to come.
Alma wouldn't scream when she saw Delaney's hair. Or rant. Or curse. Her mother rarely made any sound above a whisper—or a whimper. Her reaction would mostly come in the form of a wide-eyed, horrified expression.
"What have you done?" Alma gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
For All We Know (One Strike Away Book 3) Page 8