by Rae, Harloe
“Let me know you again.”
“No.”
I don’t deserve an answer, but that doesn’t hold me back. “Why not?”
“Because you left me, asshole,” she spits through grinding teeth.
I clear my throat, desperate to get out of this sinking hole. It’s obvious we’re not moving forward this way. “Can I at least have another spoon?”
Her eyebrows pinch. “Why?”
“So you can share this with me. Let’s clean up our broken mess together,” I say with far too much hope in my voice.
Delilah blinks slowly while my words digest. The tension in her stance loosens with an audible sigh. A small fracture is splitting her frozen exterior, and I need to keep the thawing going. The paper in my pocket feels like hot lava, but uncertainty plagues me.
Before I make a move, she murmurs, “Maybe you should go.”
“Do you really mean that?”
She gnaws on her bottom lip. “I don’t know,” comes out as a barely-there whisper.
Her hesitation—no matter how slight—gives me the green light I’ve been waiting for. I reach for the small square and place it on the smooth glass between us. Delilah glances at the paper and gasps, her head shaking back and forth. When she looks at me, all traces of frost and ice are long gone. All I see is the beautiful girl who’s always been mine.
“Say it,” I urge.
She swipes at her lashes. “Damn you, Zeke. That’s not playing fair.”
“Just humor me.”
Delilah sniffs, and the small noise hits me straight in the solar plexus. The whisper of her refusal might as well be a deafening roar. I want a chance to explain, more promised moments in her warmth. More than ever I’m determined to win her forgiveness. Delilah might not give in easy, but there’s plenty of time to try. The pain clouding her eyes in my fault and I want to wipe all doubt away.
I try again. “Come on, Trip. Knock, knock?”
Her nostrils flare with the surrender. “Who’s there?”
Leaning toward her, I whisper, “Me.”
Delilah edges closer like we’re connected on a pulley. “Me who?”
“The man who never stopped loving you,” I finish.
She sucks in sharply, but doesn’t move away. “What do you want from me?”
“Everything.”
Her breath puffs out, and I feel the exhale on my lips. “I’m not—”
“Hey, D?” The interruption comes from behind her. Talk about bad timing.
Delilah jerk upright and combs through her long hair. She stares at me with wide eyes, as if just realizing the position we were in. She presses quaking fingers against her mouth.
“Did you hear me?” her friend asks while coming into view around the corner. Raven stops short when she sees me. “Oh, shit, you’re still here.” Her gaze darts between us. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Delilah “What? No, you’re not. We’re just talking. That’s all. Nothing more,” she stammers.
Raven lifts a brow. “Uh, okay. Carry on.”
“Wait!” Delilah shouts, and Raven freezes in place. “Did you need something?”
Her friend waves her off. “It’s not important. Inventory stuff.”
“Oh, right. I need to get going on that.” She looks at me. “I have to do inventory.”
I smile. “Yeah, that was your first excuse to get rid of me earlier.”
She scratches her ear. “Um, yeah. As you can see, I actually have a job to do.”
Raven snorts. “D, you can continue catching up with Zeke. I can handle things for a bit.”
Delilah shoots her a glare. “I wouldn’t want to add more work for you.”
“Really? Because we’re so busy at the moment. Plus, this would be worth it,” she responds, her eyes sparkling with interest.
I watch Delilah silently communicate with Raven through hand gestures and nods. The oddball blonde gives me a thumbs-up before retreating into the hall.
“She seems like a good friend,” I say once she’s out of sight.
“Ugh, I guess. When she’s not throwing me under the bus,” Delilah mutters.
“I appreciate her support.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, moving on. I’ve got stuff to do. This has been . . . nice,” she says.
“You’re not getting rid of me quite yet.”
Delilah huffs. “No? What’s it gonna take? I’m nearing the end of my rope, Zeke.”
I laugh at her pinched expression. “I need a chance to explain. I’m not giving up, Trip.”
“Me either,” she replies. After several tense beats, she adds, “But maybe we can see each other later. After close. Will you be around?”
I don’t pause. “Of course. Where?”
“Just be in front of Jitters at six.”
Delilah is giving me the greatest gift. The grin lifting my lips is a tiny bit cocky, but I can’t seem to help it. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”
She holds up a palm. “I’m only agreeing to a conversation.”
I wink. “We’ll see about that.”
EXPLAIN
Delilah
I SLAM THE register shut with a resounding bang, signaling quitting time. That also means Zeke will be meeting me soon. I chew on a nail while considering running upstairs to change.
“Whatcha doing?” Raven asks.
I startle and slap a palm to my racing heart. “Shit, you need some damn tap shoes. You’ve been scaring me a lot lately.”
She smirks. “That’s because you’re always zoning out thinking about Zeke.”
I don’t bother denying it. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“Trey is picking me up. We’re going to the movies. Wanna come? It could be a double date.” Raven wiggles her hips.
I try to keep my expression neutral, not wanting to show how happy the idea makes me. But it’s silly to be giddy over that. Zeke and I are . . . nothing. A lot needs to happen before I consider going on an actual date with him. It also occurs to me that Trey and Zeke did not get along in high school. That was mostly for my benefit, I realize, but still.
“I’m gonna pass for now,” I say gently. “But you’re sweet to offer, Rave. Maybe we can set something up eventually. I’ll see what he has to say first.”
She pouts. “You’ve never had a boyfriend. I really want it to work out with Zeke.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. If she only knew the truth. “Fingers crossed.”
“And toes,” she adds.
“Let’s not be too optimistic.”
“Don’t be a downer. Let me enjoy the possibility.”
“I’m beginning to think you care more than me,” I laugh.
Raven scoffs. “As if. I caught you practically climbing over the counter earlier. And he was no better. You two will be bumping uglies by next weekend.”
I toss my head back with a cackle. “Gosh, you’re hilarious. I really needed that.”
She bows. “Happy to oblige.” Raven’s phone dings, and she glances at the screen, smiling wide. “Trey is outside. Do you need anything before I go?”
“Nah, I’m packing up. Have fun.”
“You to-oo,” she sing-songs and skips toward the door.
When I reach for my purse, Zeke’s bold writing snags my attention. I grab the paper while a swarm of butterflies attack my stomach. When he slid that joke in front of me, my false bravado folded like a house of cards. Countless memories slammed into me and I struggled to remain standing. That glimmer of the past made him impossible to resist. But Zeke has some explaining to do.
After shutting off all the lights and triple-checking the locks, there’re no more excuses to stall. I walk slowly to the door and step outside, my legs wiggling like jelly. A slight breeze helps cool off the July heat, making the temperature rather pleasant. People are milling all about, enjoying Saturday evening on Main Street. But all of those inconsequential details fade into the background. Zeke is leaning on a bench directly in front
of the store so he’s all I see. But it’s far more than his location.
Holy crap cakes, he’s sinfully delicious.
Men shouldn’t be allowed to wear white tees and faded jeans when girls are mad at them. Whoever spilled the beans and told them this outfit is our kryptonite should be ashamed. How do I stand a chance? I’m still pissed as hell at him, but it’s hard to remember why when he looks this good. I hold my head high and swallow the pool of saliva threatening to drool out. I can totally appear unaffected.
But then he talks.
“Damn, Trip. How is it possible you’re more gorgeous than this morning?” Zeke murmurs, straightening off his perch. He’s different today, more like the old Zeke. Even though he seems lighter, there’s a lot of mystery in those brilliant blue eyes. His stride is effortless as he moves toward me. The spicy scent of his cologne makes my knees wobble.
Let it be noted I gave a valiant effort. I tried, ladies.
While licking my lips, I scold my racing heart. Two can play at this game. “Thanks, Bear. You’re not looking so bad either.”
Zeke stumbles over nothing. “Oh, no way. You haven’t called me that since sophomore year.”
“Doesn’t mean I ever forgot.”
“You still have the shirt?”
Of course I do, but admitting that seems weak in this moment. We begin a slow stroll along the sidewalk while I search for the best response. I go with a nonchalant, “Maybe.”
He smirks, totally busting me. “Buried under all your silk panties.”
I laugh at his bold assumption. “Try again. That faded piece of cotton has been demoted.”
“I’ve missed this. Talking to you has always been fun and easy,” Zeke tells me offhandedly.
“Couldn’t have missed this too much. You’ve always known where to find me,” I retort.
That shuts his playful side up real quick, and I’m a total bitch for making it happen. Zeke’s smile wilts and takes the effortless flow of our conversation with it. I want to kick myself for shoving this awkward tension between us. But maybe that’s for the best. I shouldn’t feel so comfortable with him after everything that’s occurred . . . or hasn’t. But try as I might, there’s no stopping it.
His defeated sigh might as well be a bass drum. “You’re right. I fucked us all up.”
I don’t argue, just offer a limp shrug.
Zeke nods slowly. “I’m gonna make us right again, Trip.”
“If you say so,” I say, still feeling the fingers of guilt around my neck.
We’re quiet for several feet before he asks, “Where are we going?”
“Dagos,” I supply with finality. There’s no choice in the matter. I need to be in a safe space for whatever Zeke is going to share with me.
“Ah, is that your place to be?”
“Sure is.”
“I saw Addison working here.” He opens the wooden door and gesturing for me to go in.
“She told me.” Although I reamed her out for waiting until Zeke surprised me at Jitters.
“Makes sense. You two have always been close.”
I make a noncommittal noise. “We all were.”
Zeke slams to a stop, his hands fisted and trembling. “Fucking dammit, Delilah. I’m well aware how thoroughly I’ve fucked up. You don’t need to drive the knife in any deeper than it already is.”
Is that what I’m doing? Most likely, but my reaction is instinctual. I have a lot of pent-up frustration where this man is concerned. When Zeke left and didn’t come back, I went through all the phases of loss on repeat. I’m totally screwed up because of him.
There’s no easy out of this fucking disaster. We might as well be treading water while moving further from shore. I rub my forehead and mutter, “I’ll try to keep the stabs to a minimum. For what it’s worth, I’m not intentionally trying to go above and beyond to be a super bitch.”
He grunts, but the pressure radiating off him visibly loosens. “That sounds like a complicated way to say you’re actually doing it on purpose.”
I turn to face him and cross my arms. “What do you expect? I have every right to be upset, Zeke. You fucked me over in a seriously shitty way.”
His gaze swings around the bar before he leads me to an empty booth in the back. I don’t mind the privacy, but the sensation of being trapped skitters up my spine. I sit and scoot into the middle on one side while Zeke occupies the other. After taking several calming breaths, my pulse quiets slightly. He reaches a hand across the table but must change his mind halfway. Zeke’s palm rests flat and empty, calling to me, but I’m not ready to answer.
“Hopefully I can make things better, Trip. Can we try moving forward rather than spin in circles? I’m not interested in making this even worse between us. I need to believe in the possibility of . . .” His solemn voice trails off.
“What?” I question after he remains silent. My pulse picks up again while I wait for his answer.
Zeke sucks on his bottom lip and stares deeply into my eyes. “Us.”
I have to bite my tongue to stop from agreeing to whatever he’s suggesting. How nice would it be to collapse into his arms and ride off into the sunset? I grip the wooden bench and stay frozen in place. It physically hurts to remain separated from him, but I have to protect myself. I’ve already fallen for him once, and that didn’t end so well for me.
“That’s asking for something I can’t guarantee. Not at all,” I say.
“Not yet, but maybe . . . eventually?” The strangled hope in his voice makes me wince.
I ignore Zeke’s question, giving him one of my own. “Why didn’t you come back for me?”
His expression shutters, exposing flickers of raw agony and the desperation swallows me. I can’t watch him suffer, but Zeke quickly clears the pain off his features. “Shit, Trip. Going straight for the jugular, eh?” He rubs the center of his chest.
“I don’t see any reason to waste more time,” I reply.
“Good point,” Zeke agrees.
Myla, my second favorite server at Dagos, chooses this moment to stop by and grab our order. She gives Zeke a curious glance but doesn’t comment before striding away.
He roughly scrubs over his mouth. “I had big plans for us, D. I was going to pave the way and get everything set up. All I needed was an opportunity to prove myself. My aunt opened her home to me under certain conditions. So long as I was working and helping around the house, she’d let me stay. How hard would that be, right?” Zeke laughs, but there’s zero humor laced in the defeated sound.
“As it turns out, most people aren’t interested in handing out chances to a punk-ass kid. Even with my employment history, I could only get shitty shifts with minimum wage. I didn’t stop trying and kept moving on, but the bosses were assholes. It seemed like there was a target on my back and they all had it out for me. Makes sense since I was a worthless nobody. Without trying, I burned bridges faster than I could build them.”
He leans back and stares at the ceiling, blowing out a weighted breath before continuing. “I even tried making friends, thinking that could help. But I’m a joke, you know?” Zeke’s laugh is despondent and hollow.
He yanks at his hair, which I’m realizing is a new habit. “Even a bunch of teenage shits couldn’t put up with me. At the first opportunity, they framed me for some vandalizing shit. I don’t even remember where it was. The squad car pulled into my aunt’s driveway and two minutes later I was handcuffed in the backseat. She was fucking furious, mostly because I was an embarrassment and got the neighbors talking. My prints weren’t found on anything and I wasn’t in the security footage. They had zero proof against me, but that didn’t matter. Such bullshit. If my aunt wasn’t buddies with the sheriff, I would have been charged. Because of her, I got cleared pretty quick. But the damage was done and my lesson was learned. There wasn’t hope for me overcoming my pitfalls. I was destined to be a loser. My aunt agreed and I wasn’t welcome in her house after that,” Zeke mutters.
He swallows r
oughly and toys with the cocktail napkin. “At that point, I was broke, jobless, and just kicked out of my aunt’s place. She told me to crash at my uncle’s place, a man I’d never met. I was so fucking upset about everything piling up and didn’t think twice before storming out. I hopped on a bus out of town, but trouble followed me. It didn’t take more than a month or two before getting booted from wherever I was working or living. There was a curse embedded under my skin, I fucking swear. No matter what happened, I wasn’t good enough. Eventually I found a boxing gym and figured out how to take the pain away. I beat myself bloody most nights, just so I could sleep. It’s all fucked up,” Zeke grumbles.
Myla drops off our drinks without a word, which I appreciate more than she knows. Maybe the tension vibrating around us is visible to others. I quickly take a few sips of to ease the gritty dryness from my mouth. The vodka pour is strong and scorches a path directly to my veins. That should definitely help with taking the edge off. Zeke grabs his beer and takes a healthy gulp. I look at his hand and the array of scars crisscrossing there.
He looks familiar, like the Zeke I love. I mean, loved. Past tense, of course. Life has always been testing his limits, dumping more shit than sugar. His sweet soul cracked under the pressure. I want to hug him, but that seemed like a surefire way of tumbling down the rabbit hole.
“So, you were hurting yourself? On purpose?” My disbelief clangs loudly between us.
He nods. “More often than I want to admit. I was so fucking angry inside, all the damn time. My dwindling confidence wasn’t helpful. Excessive exercise was an outlet. I’d push until there was nothing left to shove.”
“But you’re so gentle . . . and kind. I never thought you’d get that angry.”
Zeke grunts. His blue eyes take on an icy sheen that force my stare away. “You’re wrong.”
I can’t stop the shudder from wracking my limbs. “Guess all that time in the gym explains a lot. I mean, you’re seriously huge.”
His biceps and pecs seem to flex on command. “Working construction does a body good. Doesn’t hurt that I beat myself up, in more ways than one.”
“Why? How did things change so dramatically? You had plans for a happy future. Or so I thought.” The last part comes out slightly warbled.