Page 73 of Delta
“I’m okay. I don’t mind. If you show me where I’m supposed to be, I can put my stuff away and get Ash’s litter box set up.”
“I’ll handle the litter box. When he was here before, I just had it in the laundry room. Is that okay?”
“Yeah. Of course.” It warms my heart that he doesn’t want to lock it in a bedroom. Instead, he wants Ash to feel like part of the family too.
“Great.” Dylan gestures toward the hallway. “This way.” He starts walking, pausing near a door closest to the kitchen. “This is the bathroom.” After turning on the light, he pushes the door open to reveal a bathroom decorated in similar colors to the living room.
Lots of gray. No color.
“There are fresh towels under the sink.” He turns off the light, then moves down the hall a bit more, opening a door on the opposite side of the bathroom. “Here’s the guest room where you’ll be staying.”
I step around him and move inside, smiling when I see a patchwork quilt on the bed. This one has plenty of color. Blue, green, yellow, red—it’s an explosion of personality, and I know just who made it. “Your mom?”
He smiles. “Yeah. My dad brought it over from their house right before you got here. He said your room could use some color. Apparently—in his words—my guest bedding was far too boring.”
My own smile spreads. That is so Tommy Hunt. “That’s so sweet.”
“That’s Dad.” He runs a hand over the back of his head. “There’s room in the drawers for your stuff and empty hangers in the closet. There’s a lock on the back of the door.” He partially closes it and gestures toward the handle then the slide lock toward the top of the door. That one looks freshly installed, the wood still bare around where he drilled into the frame.
“I’m not worried, Dylan. I trust you not to come bursting in here unannounced.”
“Don’t.” His tone turns serious, his expression darkening. “At night, you lock both of these, okay? And you don’t come out—no matter what you hear.”
“Dylan—” My stomach twists. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be,” he says. “I told you, I nearly killed Riley. Would have if given the opportunity. I don’t trust myself around anyone because, in those moments, it’s not me in the driver’s seat, Emma. I become the monster they created, and I cannot be trusted.”
My chest aches, a vise around my heart squeezing until I can barely breathe. How can he see himself as a monster? All I see is a beautiful, broken man who desperately needs to forgive himself.
“Please, Emma. Promise me. This doesn’t work unless you promise me that you’ll lock these and stay inside.”
“I promise,” I whisper. “I’ll keep the door locked at night.”
“And you won’t come out.”
“I won’t,” I agree. I don’t tell him that I still don’t fear him. That even when he was in that hospital bed with a death grip on my arm, it wasn’t anger I saw in his gaze. Or even confusion. It was brokenness.
I don’t believe for a second that he would’ve hurt me. And maybe that’s me being naïve, but I’ll choose to live that truth until the very end of my life.
“Thank you.”
Tears burning in the corners of my eyes, I nod.
“I’m making burgers for dinner. I hope that’s okay.”
I clear my throat. “That sounds amazing.”
“Good.” He smiles just a bit, a slight lift in the corners of his lips. “They should be ready to go in about thirty minutes or so. We’re far enough from the edge of the property that you can come outside if you’d like. Once you’re settled. I have fresh sweet tea and lemonade.”
“Arnold Palmer. My favorite.”
He smiles now, a full, heart-stopping grin that momentarily erases the darkness in his gaze. “I remember.”
Chapter 21
Dylan
“What if you lose it?”
