Page 75 of Left in the Dark

She’s quiet again for a few beats before I hear her say, “I’m fine. I’m just being sentimental.” Delaney blows out a breath. “Okay, tell me the latest school gossip. Leave nothing out.”

I lie there, taking it all in.

From my research, or “spying,” as Jaxson calls it, I know she went to college for her bachelor’s in education. She started teaching third grade at Mountain View Elementary School. A few years later, after completing her master’s degree, she was hired to teach fifth graders.

I lie on my stomach beneath her bed, listening to her conversation with Callie. The two were close in high school, but now, their friendship rivals the one I share with Jaxson.

It warms my heart, sending me catapulting back to the past. To better days that I want to forget yet relish in, letting them chip away at my cold, barren soul and the splintered pieces of my broken heart.

Her voice takes me back to the past, the best and worst days of my life. I let the denial wash over me, pretending she’s mine again. Memories of her being my first, innocent love before our hearts were broken, lives torn apart, and souls tainted in darkness.

Will we ever be able to go back there again? To reclaim the trust and love that we once shared.

Like cold water being dumped over my head, the pain washes over me, sucking the air from my lungs. She omitted the truth, keeping her home life shrouded in secrecy. Not only that, but I’m nowhere closer to figuring out if she had anything to do with the attack on me and my father’s subsequent arrest.

“I miss you, too. We’ll talk again tomorrow. Love you, Callie.”

She sighs as she sets her phone on the nightstand. The TV turns on, and the bed shifts as she gets comfortable.

I’m uncomfortable as hell on this damn floor, wearing this fucking Michael Myers mask, hoping like hell she goes to sleep soon.

When I hear her deep, even breathing, I slowly crawl from beneath the bed. My head lifts to find her bathed in the light from the TV, flat on her back with the comforter and blanket pulled to her chin. Her long lashes rest on her cheeks, her lips slightly parted as she sleeps.

I climb to my feet, working out the kinks in my body from lying still on the floor.

She whimpers, and I freeze.

“No.” Her head moves back and forth on the pillow, her fingers curling tighter around the blanket. “You can’t keep me from him.”

I freeze, my heart banging in my chest. Every muscle in my body tenses as I wonder who she’s dreaming of.

“No.” She kicks her legs slightly. “Oh, God, Zayne. Please forgive me.”

It’s like an iron fist squeezing my heart as I stare down at the agony on her face. Her knuckles are white as her head thrashes back and forth.

“I’m a monster. I left him.” Her lip wobbles. “I shouldn’t have left him.”

I don’t know what possesses me to do it, especially since it’s so risky. But I lean over her prone form, my finger barely grazing her face. She stills, her lips parting and her tongue darting out, touching my thumb. “It’s okay, minx. We’ll get past this.”

As if she hears and understands me, a soft sigh comes from her lips before they curl into a soft smile.

I pull my hand away, knowing I need to leave. “I’ll be back.”

Before I have second thoughts, I hurry out the door and quietly move down the stairs. I turn on my phone's flashlight as I head down the stairs, keeping it pointed at my feet so I don’t trip, knowing the light from this angle won’t shine upstairs and wake her.

As I walk through the living room, something falls and hits the floor. I cover the flashlight with my hand, waiting with bated breath for Delaney’s scared voice to float down the stairs or for her feet to pad across the floor to the staircase.

When neither happens, I relax my tense muscles and move my light toward whatever fell on the floor. A folder lies near the bookcase.

I walk over to it, stooping down to gather the contents, but freeze when I see the photos. Shock courses through me as I stare at pictures of Delaney and me.

I lift the first one, examining it. It’s a picture of us when we were seniors in high school. The love on our faces as we stare at one another is evident.

Examining picture after picture, memories and confusion wash over me. I didn’t take these photos, and neither did Delaney.

Which means someone was following us and knew about our secret affair. I suspect this same person used these photos to blackmail her into doing something.

I place them inside the folder, my thoughts in turmoil. Instead of putting them back, I stand, tucking them beneath my arm. Turning off the alarm and unlocking the door, I head out, then lock and arm it again.

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