Page 152 of Severed Heart
“Then I will wait,” I tell him. “I am eager to hear it ... when you are ready. But I want you to know I will always regret the words I—”
“I need to go, Delphine,” he says, cutting my apology abruptly. It’s then I know that no matter how close he gets, I’m very far from certain types of honesty. Honesty he’s so easily pulling from me, but honesty he seems to no longer want. Words I want so much to say die in my throat at his dismissal, but I give him some truth anyway.
“I hope you know I tried for you,too, Tyler,” I tell him. “Very hard. I did not drink during the day. At night, I would go longer and longer before I would sip—”
“Until you were triggered,” he finishes for me. “I know, Delphine.”
“I just want you to know that you knew mesober.”
“I do know,” he relays across the space, feeling as if it’s starting to widen from how intimate we were last night and this morning.
“Okay, I’m sorry to keep you. Go to your errand.”
“Do me a favor,” he asks.
“Anything,” I blurt like a lovesick fool.
“Try towatchthe movie. You can start sorting out whatever you need to tomorrow morning, okay? Stay out of that dangerous place”—he taps his temple—“for a little while longer.”
“I will try,” I promise as he takes his leave, and I start the movie, knowing I will doanythinghe asks of me. It’s my heart that might not be agreeable to the distance he’s intent on keeping from his. This truth is evident as it pounds in the direction of his footfalls, following him out of the snap of the storm door and into his truck as it sparks to life, trailing him long after the rumble fades with his departure. Both pounding and achingheavilyreminding me of the loss of his presence, of what that ache feels like as it has for eight unforgiving years.
Chapter Forty
TYLER
BLINK.
Stalking toward the pin Russell sent, it’s the location adjacent to it that has dread coursing through me as I hasten my steps. I’m already on edge about the fact that Dom picked Delphine up tonight from one of the last of the treatments she has left. That and how Delphine’s body might respond so soon after detox. Some of my anxiety stems from the fact that the start of Delphine’s therapy has been rough on her. My mom came through in a major way for us both, giving me a hug before delivering a light tongue-lashing about visiting home, which I now deemCarter’shouse. Just after, she’d postured up like the professional she is.
Though technically, having my mother treat her might be a conflict of interest, I meant what I told Delphine. Regina Jennings is the only one I trust with her. And seeing as how they’ve never met before that day and that we’re not currently romantically involved, Mom is confident she can treat her objectively.
Not only did Regina Jennings take the edge off what I thought would be an awkward introduction to Delphine, but within half an hour, Mom made it to where Delphine felt comfortable enough to send me packing so they could begin their first session.
Therapy has seemed a good start, despite the rough days that have followed. I’ve spent every night of them with her, sleeping across the hall in Dom’s bed, tossing and turning right along with her. Before tonight, some of my anxiety has been from second-guessing if I did the right thing getting her to sort through the trauma that she’s already relived for two fucking decades. But Mom assures me Delphine needs new coping mechanisms along with some much-needed altered perception of thinking about what was done to her. In believing the same, I’m trusting that Mom truly knows best.
Anxious to get back to Delphine but growing even more so as I draw closer to the pin, I switch my focus, stalking toward the shadow standing next to the tree. Dread fills me as I approach and glimpse Russell’s expression and the fact that we’re tucked away in the woods across the street from Peter’s house.
“Tell me right fucking now that he’s okay,” I demand, my soft spot for Peter evident amongst our birds since I recruited him from that jail cell. More obvious now as I scan his pitch-black house with my heart in my throat.
“Physically, yeah, mentally, not good,” Russell says, scanning the house with me.
“What happened?”
“His dad has been coming around the last few weeks. Apparently, one of Peter’s cousins jacked his jaws about how well he was doing and about buying the house and his mom a car. So, of course, out of the fucking gutter comes dear old, drug-addicted Dad, who’s been stalking Peter and his mom collectively ever since. He started by harassing his mom for money at the gas station she works at and claiming rights to see Annabelle. Since then, he’s gotten more aggressive and has been pounding on their door during late hours, demanding money.”
“The fuck?” I grit out. “Why didn’t he come to us?”
“I think he didn’t want to weigh us down with all the shit we have going on. He didn’t even tellme,” he exhales heavily. “He probably assumed his dad would crawl back into the hole he came out of when he got nothing from his threats. But tonight, he fucking busted in the door.”
I don’t need Russell to put a voice to it, knowing precisely what happened next. “Please tell me Annabelle wasn’t here.”
“No, thank God, she’s still with the babysitter, and his mom is working the night shift at the gas station.”
“Were the neighbors home?” With Peter’s house sitting at the end of the last street inside the small subdivision, and the woods we’re standing in facing the front of his house, his only nearby neighbors are to his right.
“Not at the time. They pulled in ten minutes ago.”
“All right, no one was called, no blue lights?”
