The door swung open. Tucker stood there, grinning. “What the hell are you doing?”
I chuckled. “Not sure.”
He kept grinning. “Feeling awkward because you’re here to steal my sister away?”
“Is that how you see it?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Would you expect anything less?”
“Is this whole conversation going to be in question form?”
“Are you ever gonna fucking come in and stop letting the AC pour out of this house?”
“Is your ass gonna move so I can get by?”
“Nope.” Tucker slammed the door in my face.
“Fucker,” I mumbled as I let myself in.
Tuck was already in the kitchen, digging in the fridge. “Wondered when you were gonna start actin’ normal again and waltz your happy ass in here.”
I heard TV football in the den. Then Delilah’s dad yelled, “Do I hear the daughter-stealing asshole in my kitchen?”
I just shook my head, smiling. Yep! Everything is as expected. I walked into the den, where Mr. Ward was sitting on a circular brown leather couch. This room was different from the rest of the house, as if purposely meant to be manlier. The dim lighting gave it a cave feel.
“I’m here, sir, and I promise to have your daughter home by ten.”
Tucker walked past me, throwing his dad a beer. “Bullshit.” He sat in a type of recliner every man should own sometime in his life.
John opened his beer. “Yeah, Maverick, don’t make promises Lilah won’t let you keep.”
“What won’t I let you do?” Delilah asked as she walked into the kitchen.
I tried not to stutter when I caught sight of her in tight blue jeans that were made for her figure—her luscious figure that instantly made my balls ache. “Umm-uh—out—er—late.”
Of course, this meant the peanut gallery was open for business. The Mr. Wards of the house heckled me in the background.
“Uh, uh, duhhh…”
“Do you hear this fool?”
“Hear him but can’t understand a damn word he’s trying to say.”
“He better not be thinking about her talents.”
Delilah grabbed my hand and her purse and dragged me toward the front door, saying to her brother and dad, “Good night, gentlemen. Don’t wait up.”
Mr. Ward chuckled to Tuck as we left. “See? Told ya there won’t be a ten o’clock…”
When the door shut behind us, I was shocked as my back forcefully hit the outside wall. Lilah attacked my mouth with hers. My body instantly reacted as if I had been starving for her affection, especially that kind of affection. In between kisses, I asked, “What if your brother—”
She kept kissing me. “I know. I know, but I needed this.”
This girl always got me growling. Hunger. Hunger.
My arms wrapped around her waist as I picked her up while shoving my tongue down her throat. She giggled as I carried her to my truck. I pulled back from her enticing mouth. “Oh God. Your brother is right, Lilah! I’m literally stealing you away.”
Her hands held my face for easy access for more kisses. “Don’t ever stop.”
With her in my arms, I struggled to open the passenger door and had to force myself to put her in the seat. Then I had to fight against my body that kept following her lips as she kept kissing me. Damn! I wanted to gobble her up!
“Delilah… I can’t buckle you in… if you keep kissing me like this.” Clearly, the female was capable of handling her own seatbelt, but it was the only excuse I had to be close with her brother possibly watching through the front window.
“Don’t want to be restrained,” she purred while kissing me again.
I groaned, “Oh shit,” as I fumbled with her seatbelt, trying to avoid her tasty lips, which were calling to me and nibbling on my neck. When I heard the seatbelt click, I pulled away, slamming the door as if she were a danger to me. I thought she was. Her brother was gonna beat my ass!
Lilah’s lips were blushed from my goatee, and she looked pleased with her control over me. “What’s the matter, Maverick?” she asked through the window.
I rested my pointed finger against the glass. “You! That’s what’s the matter!”
She went to lick the glass where my finger was. I yanked my hand away as if she were a deadly snake trying to poison me. I walked to the driver’s side of the truck, whispering to myself, “She’s gonna get me killed.”
At the driver’s-side door, I scolded her through that window. “You gonna behave?”
There’s that laugh I love to hear.
“Nope!” she answered, melting my self-control all over again. She winked. “But I promise to make it worth your while.”
I got in the truck. Fumbling to get my keys in the ignition, I asked, “Where’s this flirty Delilah coming from?”
“Not liking it?”
“Oh no.” I’m already hard. “I’m liking it, all right.”
“Good.” She reached for me again.
I playfully swatted her hands away. “Your father might be looking out the window!”
“Don’t want my daddy seeing me molest you?”
I fought to get the truck in gear. “Sweet Jesus.”
After driving away from her house, I inhaled deeply, trying to collect myself. “Where to, my Lilah?”
“What do you feel like, my Maverick?”
“Anything you want.”
Her giggle was like a purr from the heavens. Then she suddenly gasped. “I want to see where you sleep!” I raised an eyebrow. She laughed. “I mean it! When we have our late-night calls, I want to be able to picture where you’re lying. I want to feel closer to you when we talk on the phone. Please?”
Of course, nothing else needed to be said. Delilah gave out a command, and I shamelessly followed orders.
When we came to the haunted road, I noticed Delilah’s hands gripping the side of her seat. I reached for one of them, but she shooed me away. “No. Please, keep both hands on the wheel.”
I nodded and gripped my steering wheel with sincerity. Her fear was real, and I wasn’t about to compound it with juvenile behavior.
“Want me to slow down?”
She answered so quickly it almost broke my heart. “Yes. Please.”
My foot came off the gas pedal, and the truck slowed to twenty miles an hour. I don’t think she breathed for the quarter mile it took to get past the dangerous curve where Kenny had lost his life. “Wanna talk to me, Lilah?”
“I-I don’t want you taking that way home.” Delilah’s voice was shaking.
I inhaled slowly then said, “It’s the only way to my house.”
She whispered, “I know.”
“Can I hold your hand now?” Delilah quickly accepted my hand and squeezed tightly. I kissed her fingers, telling her, “I’ll be okay. What happened to him won’t happen to me.”
She looked at me with a spooked expression. “I know we’re new—I mean, you and I haven’t been together long—but even if we break up tomorrow, I want you to live a long and happy life, Maverick.”
What she said was disturbing to me. It was laced with guilt. “Lilah, why are you speaking as if you didn’t wish the same for Kenny?”
Delilah looked out the window. “I knew Kenny. Tucker may have been his best friend, but… a girlfriend is different to a guy.”
Completely relating to how she could affect me in ways no one else could, I nodded. “I understand that.”
Her eyes closed as she leaned her head back against her headrest. “So, I knew him better than anyone else.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
She looked to me and quickly said, “I don’t want that to ever be the case with you and me.”
My stomach began to turn. “Okay. Are you speaking of his… change?”
Terror crossed her face. She went pale in an instant. “How do you know about that?”
I tightened my hold on her hand, quickly reassuring her. “I don�
�t. It’s just something you said when you were drunk. It makes a guy stop and think, ya know?”
She nodded and closed her eyes again. When they reopened, I knew the conversation was ending. Delilah was closing the door to her past. “I knew him better than anyone else. That’s all.”
By the time we got to my house, Delilah had calmed. Color was back in her cheeks. She seemed normal and centered again. You would have never known the internal torture she’d just experienced. That also concerned me: Lilah knew exactly how to shut down strong emotions.
After greetings with my mom ended, Lilah and I headed upstairs. Delilah didn’t comment on them, but I knew she had seen my mom’s pill bottles. I hadn’t expected a guest.
Delilah slowly walked into my room, taking in everything—dirty laundry and shit that was everywhere. After shutting my bedroom door, I rushed around, trying to straighten up my room and make my bed. “Sorry. Didn’t expect to be bringing you here.”
Still looking around, she replied, “No. Don’t apologize. I want to see the real you.” She began inspecting, touching my dresser and chair. “Where do you do your homework?”
I pointed to my desk.
“Where do you…” She stopped and looked at me. “Think about me?”
I swallowed deep then looked at my bed, which was screaming, Right here! Right here is where this joker jacks off to you every fucking night! I blinked then looked back at her, praying she couldn’t read my mind.
She eyed my bed then me, grinning. “I see.”
Busted.
Just when I thought she might show that flirty side again, Delilah caught a glimpse of my gloves hanging on my wall. She walked to them. “Maverick? Do you box?”
I stayed quiet. She turned back to face me. I hesitantly nodded. “I… did.”
Playful Lilah was gone when she sensed a story behind my vague answer. “Did?”
I blew out air. “I stopped after… my dad. Something we did together. It hurt to continue.”
“Is this why you didn’t tell me about Jerry and what happened at the party?”
After a moment of silence, I asked, “Tucker?”
She smirked. “My best friend knows me well. He felt he could help you.”
“I didn’t lie about it, Lilah.”
“I know, and my brother explained who was to blame.”
“You’re not mad?” I was surprised. “You don’t think… less of me?”
“What? God no. Why would I?”
“You hate fighting.”
Her inhaling deeply told me that she was thinking of someone in particular. “Let me rephrase. I hate undisciplined fighting. Ego fighting.”
“Was Kenny undisciplined?” I meant that in more ways than one. She must have known it because she chose to change the subject.
She eyed my gloves again. “Do you miss it?”
My throat went tight. I croaked out, “Yeah.” I guess we both had subjects we wanted to avoid.
Delilah reached up to the gloves then paused, pointing. “May I?”
I nodded, not wanting them near me.
Lilah unhooked the gloves—tethered by their laces—from the wall and handled them as if she already understood how important they were to me. “They’re lighter than I expected.”
“Eight ounces. My sparring gloves weigh more.”
“Why?”
“Can’t hit as hard. Heavier gloves mean less damage to my partner.”
Delilah sounded hesitant as she asked, “Did you do real fights? Outside a gym?”
“In the street?”
“No. Competitions?”
“They’re called matches. Yes. I did.”
Delilah thought for a minute. “Were you any good?”
Never lie. “Yes.”
“Pro kind of good?”
I couldn’t hide my sadness as I nodded and whispered, “Yes.”
“That would scare me if we had a future together. You fighting would scare me. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” Her eyes stayed on mine, waiting for a response.
I felt too tied up inside to think beyond my dad. “I—well, I let it go, so… it’s gone.”
“Can’t pick it back up?”
I made it simple and clear. “Can, but won’t.”
She nodded, thoughtful.
“I won with those gloves. My lucky gloves.”
A gentle smile appeared. “I like being lucky. Will you show me?”
Just the thought of putting those gloves on made me feel as though a rope was tightening around my neck. I hadn’t worn them since he died. “I can put them on you?” It was all I could offer her.
“No. On you.”
I took a timid step back, shaking my head.
Delilah took a step forward. “Please?”
“Lilah—”
“You said anything I want.”
I nervously replied, “That’s not fair.”
She shrugged her shoulders the way Tuck always did. “Nor is life. Gloves.”
My hands opened and closed as my anxiety built to a paralyzing level. She stepped closer to me and quietly said, “Look at me.” I did, and watched her lick her lips. Her tongue quickly enticed me and rerouted my thoughts. My nerves were exchanged for anticipation. “Do you want to kiss me, Maverick?”
I hungrily nodded, desperate to feel her silky lips. As she pressed her lips to mine, I didn’t even feel her grab my hand; I only felt her wet tongue, tasting and searching for mine. Nor did I feel my gloves slide onto my hands as she lightly moaned into my mouth. I was too male and too hooked in her snare to recognize that I was being had. When she pulled back from our heated kiss and gently said, “There. It’s done,” I thought she was confused.
I leaned in to her for more kissing, almost growling, “I’m not done yet.”
Her hand touched my chest to stop me. “But I’m done with my mission.”
I was shocked when I looked down and saw my hands… gloved. I began shaking, completely overwhelmed with so many emotions flooding me. My biggest emotion was gratitude. I never would have overcome that major hurdle in my life without that beautiful girl.
She slowly began to tie the laces, cautiously saying, “If this is a dream of yours, I need you to follow it, Maverick. You’re too good of a person to not fulfill your dreams.”
I wanted to tell her how she was becoming a dream come true, one I didn’t even know I had until Delilah Ward entered my world. Instead, I said, “Must think of the future.”
She looked at me while holding my gloved hands. “That’s what I’m talking about, too.”
“I can’t take the scholarship offered.”
“Why?”
“It’s in Washington.”
Her face squinted. “And?”
There was one word that would make her understand my dilemma. “Bailey.”
Chapter Twelve
Delilah had become a crucial part of my existence. How can one part of a person’s life be in such harmony when another is spiraling downward? It can’t. They begin to collide, crashing into each other with misfortune of epic proportions. Two months of bliss were evaporating with my mother’s depression, which demanded attention. Christmas break was violently eating her alive.
Lilah had called, wanting to come over. While on the phone, I looked at my mom crying on the couch, swallowing pills. Half-emptied boxes of Christmas decorations were sprawled all over the living room floor, and the tree was half-decorated. The thought of Delilah seeing that made me ill. “Umm, now’s not a good time.”
I could hear the sting Lilah felt in her reply. “Oh, okay. Umm, will you call me later?”
What am I doing? My head dropped in shame for hurting her. I spoke barely above a whisper. “Yes.”
I didn’t. That day became too much for me. Bailey and I attempted to finish decorating the Christmas tree we’d bought, but then she approached my unconscious mom on the couch. “Mommy, should I hang this red, shiny bulb… Mommy?”
I felt as though I was suffocatin
g in a darkness that wasn’t visible to the naked eye.
“Peanut, come here, baby.”
Bailey walked to me but kept watching my mom. “Mavowick, is Mommy okay?”
“Yeah, sure she is. Just resting. How about you and I have a picnic in my room?”
Her worried face lit up. “Weally?”
Even if you’re not the one experiencing the depression, you can be pulled down with the victim and become a victim yourself. Luckily, my mom wasn’t taking enough pills to overdose, just enough to stay numb and avoid reality. I was simply too young to handle it all on my own. Being helpless in a hopeless situation made me want to hide, so that was what I did. I grabbed snacks, juice boxes, and DVDs, and Bailey and I hunkered down in my room in front of my TV and shut out the world. I turned off my cell phone, pulled Bailey into my lap, and willingly got distracted with a movie marathon.
Refusing to let Bailey face our personal hell, I kept her in bed with me when it was time to sleep. Loving the undivided attention, she happily snuggled against me and slept by my side all night. I, on the other hand, barely slept at all. I hadn’t had much sleep as of late because of the stress. My worry was as heavy as the nights that blanketed us.
The sun was a cruel reminder that another day had come and my reality was waiting for me downstairs, calling to me like the saddest song in the world. Not ready for more of that melody, I got fresh clothes out for Bailey, preparing to get her breakfast far from the house.
“Peanut, wanna play a game?”
She was in my arms. “I love games!”
“Okay, close your eyes, and guess what I’m doing.” I walked out of her bedroom.
“Going into the hallway?”
“Oh, you’re good at this game!”
She squealed with her eyes shut tight. “I am?”
“Yep!” I rushed toward the stairs.
“We’re going to the steps in our house?”
“How’d you know?” I teased but was trembling inside, anxious to escape.
She innocently giggled, eyes still closed, as we raced down the stairs and past the sleeping form on the couch. Spilled pill bottles were strung across the coffee table. Bailey and I were out the front door without her witnessing the worst: a mother who had given up.
Steal Me (Haunted Roads Book 1) Page 13