Page 88 of Delta
He sets me on the counter, then grabs a clean kitchen towel from a cabinet and presses it against my foot. “Hold this here. Keep pressure.”
“I’m okay, Dylan.”
“No, you’re not,” he snaps. “Stay there.” Carefully stepping around the glass, he disappears into the hallway. Delta remains near the door, watching me.
“I’m good, bud.”
He wags his tail but doesn’t move.
Moments later, Dylan emerges, a shirt and towel in his hand, already on the phone. “Get here. Fast,” he orders, then ends the call.
“Who did you call?”
“Lani.”
“She’s not going to appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night,” I joke as my teeth start to chatter, the chill of his air conditioner icing my still-wet body.
“It’s not the first time,” he says. When I don’t press, he slips a towel around me, wrapping it tightly. “I’ve ended up hurting myself before during an episode, and Lani’s who I call. She’s here more times than you’d think.”
His confession makes my heart ache even more. “Oh.”
Dylan slips into his shirt, then retrieves a broom from his laundry room. Carefully, he sweeps the broken glass, mindful not to step on any himself or smear the trail of blood.
“I’m sorry about that; I didn’t realize I was bleeding so badly.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s okay.” But I can see that it’s anything but okay. He’s genuinely troubled by the sight of my blood, so much so that Delta whimpers from the doorway, clearly desperate to get to him. “Blieb,” he orders again, taking a deep breath before kneeling and sweeping the glass into a dustpan and then depositing it into the trash.
As he straightens and comes back into the kitchen, his gaze lands on the knife block—with one missing.
“Oh no. I am so sorry! It must be in the pool.”
“You took a knife outside?”
“I thought Heath was here. I thought he was hurting you.”
Dylan stares at me; then a whisper of a smile lifts the corners of his lips. “You were going to take him on with my chopping knife?”
“Whatever I could find,” I tell him.
His amusement falters. “You’re lucky I didn’t see it. I didn’t even see you until you were falling back into the water.”
“You wouldn’t have hurt me.”
“You’re wrong.”
“No,” I reply without hesitation. “I’m not. And I’ll bet my life on that every single time.”
“There you go. All done.” Lani strips her gloves off and sets them on the coffee table beside her. “Feel better?”
“Much. Thanks.” The ache is still there, but thanks to the local anesthetic she gave me, the sharpness of the pain is gone.
“Anytime.” She smiles, then lifts her gaze to the back patio where Dylan has been frantically scrubbing the concrete ever since she got here. “He okay?” she asks, keeping her tone low. I love that she asks me about him, rather than asking how I’m doing.
I’m sure his brothers feel the same, but being protectors themselves, they seem more worried about me. When they should be concerned for him. “I think he’s getting there.” I wrap the thick blanket Dylan draped around my shoulders after carrying me to the couch more tightly around me. “He didn’t mean to knock me into the pool. Honestly, it was my own misstep that had me in that water. And he didn’t hesitate to jump in after me.”
“I know he didn’t mean to. Dylan’s not as dangerous as he thinks he is. Somehow, he managed to convince himself that he’s the monster, not the men who tortured him for three months.”
“I wish I could make him see what I do.”
