Page 87 of Finding Delaware

Huck is watching me, but I can’t look at him. Instead, I turn to Logan, who’s looking at Salem with a mixture of longing and sorrow.

“Your turn.”

Logan swallows, pausing a moment before hanging his head. “Look, I do love her, okay? It’s just that we’ve never... I’ve never had sex, much less made love.”

My shocked gaze bounces between them, and Huckslee does the same. Like, I’m really not one to judge because other people’s relationships aren’t my business, but I can’t fathom it. The fact that they’ve been together for two years, even live together, and haven’t even fucked?

“Why?” Huck finally asks, just as flabbergasted as I am.

Salem downs the rest of her wine before climbing to her feet. “Because I don’t want to get married!”

Next thing I know, she’s stomping up the stairs with tears on her cheeks, and Logan is brokenly watching her go. Theurge to console her is strong, but that’s not my place right now, so I duck my head until Logan’s watery gaze meets mine. “You better go after her.”

And he does. He’s up in the loft within minutes, playing music, so we can’t hear their conversation. Huck and I kneel there for a moment, avoiding each other’s gazes, and he slowly starts to collect the cards with his head bent.

“You wanna keep playing?” He asks.

We could. It would be an excellent way to ‘bridge the gap’ as Salem puts it, and open up some form of communication. But I really don’t want to know about his sex life, and I doubt he wants to hear about mine.

“I’m out of hot chocolate,” I find myself saying, scooping up everyone’s cups. “And it’s getting late. We should probably clean up.”

He only nods, silently putting the cards back into the box. One of them catches his eye, though, and he pauses momentarily as he stares at it.

I quickly wash the cups at the sink before drying them and placing them on the rack. When I turn around, Huckslee is still kneeling, bent over that one card.

“One more question,” he says slowly, turning it over in his hand, “then we can put the game away.”

Rising from a crouch, he thoughtfully brings the card over to the sink, grabbing two glasses before filling them with water. After setting them in front of us, he lifts the card to read it.

“Never have I ever been in love.”

His eyes meet mine, a starry night against snow-capped mountains. He doesn’t make a move toward his drink.

But I do.

Holding his gaze, I pick up my glass and drain its contents before placing it in the sink.

Neither of us looks away from the other. I don’t think he’s breathing. For all he knows, I could be drinking for Salem or any other girl I’ve dated over the years, but I know I’m not.

And I make sure that he knows it, too, by how I look at him.

Realizing I was in love with Huckslee wasn’t as earth-shattering as the books and movies make it out to be. I kind of always knew in the back of my mind. That’s why I couldn’t seem to stay away from him. I just never thought he felt the same, especially after the way I treated him. At least, until he punched me out for kissing Logan, and then hope pulsed to life inside this cold, dead heart.

His eyes zero in on my lip, where it’s caught between my teeth, and he leans in slightly. My breath is trapped inside my lungs, little flutters of emotion flipping around in my stomach. Just when I think he’s going to press those soft, full lips against mine...he spins around, grabs his bag, and enters the bathroom before shutting the door tightly. Sliding the lock into place.

Dazedly, I blink at his full glass, feeling my heart race. A numbness spreads over me, moving my limbs mechanically as I wash out the glasses before grabbing my own bag to change into sweats. Huckslee doesn’t emerge until I’ve settled on the floor before the fire, a blanket beneath me while one covers my body. I also laid a few for him on the sofa with a pillow from the closet.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, lying down, but I don’t respond. Instead, I’m listening to the music still playing softly from upstairs, staring into the flames, reliving all my worst moments.

Like all of the times my dad laid hands on me, and I was so desperate to replace the memories of his fists with someone else’s. Anyone else’s. And then Huck saw my bruises for the first time in the locker room after ninth-grade football practice.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Crap. I already know who it is before I turn around, his voice being the first sound I listen for in the halls. Should have checked better, but I thought everyone had left ready.

Bunching up my face, I glance over my shoulder at him and glare. “What do you want, Fuckslee?”

His big brown eyes are wide as he takes in my bare back. “What happened to you? Are those fingerprints?”

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