Page 42 of Devious Delusions

“No, baby,” he says. “It was because you were hurting yourself and you kept going to the police and telling them you were a murderer.” His voice lowers and a lump grows in his throat. “That you set him on fire, and it was purposeful.”

20

ASHER

Ikiss Delilah’s cheek and slide her off my thigh while she chews her lip and stares at the wall. There’s no preview of where her thoughts have taken her, and I don’t even want to know. They’ll just be something that will piss me off when I need to deal with my parents’ fuck up.

My shoulders bunch as I walk into the closet and force back the reminder of what will be waiting for me. Disappointment. It will always be disappointment because the son they want is six feet under and probably dust by now. Having one surviving child wasn’t enough for them, not when I’m a reminder of what they’ve lost. If I thought it would make a difference, I’d have a bunch of surgery to change my features and then they might have seen me as anything other than my twin after his death.

Delilah follows me and hovers at the threshold of the closet with her bottom lip still trapped between her teeth, and she swaps it for the inside of her cheek as I pull the rest of my clothes off and go to shower. I’ve developed a shadow, and she doesn’t leave me when I go into the bathroom either.

There’s no conversation. She just stands there, trapped in her mind, and stares through air. I don’t wait for the water to heatup and watch her as I step under the cold spray. If she breaks, I’ll be fucked since I can’t take her with me when it will ruin everything. If she sees her parents she’ll combust, and if she sees mine she’ll implode. Our life is a delicate balance to keep us both sane and ensure everything works the way we need it to. I’ve already fucked up by being too rough with her. Her knees are red. My cock loves it, and so do I, even though a part of me regrets it. She needs gentleness, care—the shit that doesn’t come naturally to me.

Softening my voice, I call her to me. “Lilo.” She continues staring into space and I step back to poke my head around the glass screen. “Baby, come here.”

Her head snaps up and she blinks into awareness.

“Come here,” I repeat. “I promise the water isn’t cold this time.”

A small smile lifts her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes as she drags her feet. Without removing her t-shirt, she steps forward, directly into my arms. I hug her to my chest then rest my lips on her crown as the spray runs over my back.

Her voice is small and muffled against my chest. “Asher?” I hum in response.

Tilting my head back so I can hear her clearly, I wait. There’s no other question and I cup her nape as I softly say, “Yeah?”

Delilah slowly looks up with so much loss, confusion, and hurt in her eyes that she’s unrecognizable as she whispers, “Did I ever tell you about what happened in the hospital?”

Her father is a prick. I hated the cunt growing up, after finding out everything he put his daughters through, it’s grown tenfold. Her parents have been controlling, under the guise of care, but it’s not care that makes someone lock up their own child. That’s ego and knowing the only power you have is over a child. Weak prick.

My tone hardens and I look away from the hurt in her eyes. “Don’t think about it anymore. I won’t let anyone take you from me again.”

She spent years in that hospital—too long—and it’s what has made her like this. Rather than delve into the details that she’ll inevitably get wrong, I slowly peel the wet t-shirt off her to stop the conversation. Delilah hasn’t spoken about whatever she went through while she was in the hospital. I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned it sooner since she would always tell me everything when we were kids, and I didn’t think she was even capable of keeping secrets.

“Did you visit me?” she asks with hope.

Water drips down her forehead and clings to her lashes, turning them spiky. She doesn’t blink it away as she looks up at me with that same hope. I’ve read every note that was left on her file, studied her medical records while she’s been in and out of her episodes but they don’t give in-depth details other than her erratic behavior. One moment she’d be threatening her family to anyone that was in ear shot, the other she’d beg for them. She’d make promises to stay in her bed and then as soon as the porter’s back was turned, she’d run. Nothing living is made to be trapped. Delilah isn’t any different, she needs freedom and answers. She softly squeezes my side to get me to answer.

“No one was allowed to,” I say evenly to hide my own emotions on the topic.

My blood heats in my veins and I step back under the spray in an attempt to get it to cool down, but all it does is magnify how vulnerable Delilah is as she stands opposite me with her arms limply hanging at her sides. The corner of her lip disappears, and I hold her hand to guide her closer as I softly explain. “Your parents left for a few years, and the doctors wouldn’t authorize any visitors without their approval.”

She brightens and wraps her arms around me, the mood change rocking me both mentally and physically, but her whisper is worse.

“It’s just a fucked up dream. I knew it was.”

I never had any plans on leaving her again so soon and I try to find a way to get Wainscott PD off my ass. If I don’t go they’ll end up sniffing around my life and assuming I have something to do with whatever bullshit my parents are involved in.

But Delilah interrupts my mental organization as she looks up. “Will you be gone for long?”

Stroking her hair back, I press my lips to her forehead for my own selfish need. Her lashes flutter and she innocently smiles to herself. I still remember the first time I did it and she blushed; she never blushed before, but that day she did. It was the same when I kissed her cheek. The innocent touches have always unlocked her nervousness and it was something only I had the key to since she was always the perfect Delilah Leroux who wouldn’t be seen with a hair out of place.

I keep her attached to me and give her my half-assed idea. “I’m not going to go. I’ll just answer their questions over the phone.”

She rears back and narrows her eyes at me. “You have to. They’re your parents and it’s fine if they don’t want to see me, but you need to help them.”

I don’t argue anything different and watch her. I wish there was some invention to tell me what’s going on inside her head. Instead, I’m left guessing and being away from her once has proven that all I’ll do is worry about her. It’s warranted and I won’t know who I’ll be coming home to.

Will she be fine?

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