Page 9 of Mine to Love
It’s then that she stops shaking and the tension in her body releases. “Delilah?” She whispers, though her eyes are still closed.
“Delilah is safe and so are you,” I whisper. Slowly, she opens her eyes, and I mentally brace for impact. She will have questions, fears, perhaps a relapse once she gets a good look at the corpses surrounding us. Though, to my surprise, when her eyes find mine, she says nothing other than my name, nor does she move an inch. “Yes, it’s Gio, Darcy. You’re okay. You’re safe, and so is Delilah.” She gently nods and closes her eyes once more. Though, her momentary comfort is short-lived when she remembers she isn’t supposed to feel safe with me. She doesn’t know me. After tonight, that’s even more obvious.
“Delilah, where is she?” she asks as she quickly wiggles out of my grasp. As she stands, she covers her mouth as she takes in the scene before her—three dead men plus the rotting girl at the back of the bus. I sink my head as I stand to join her. What they did to her is horrific. To know the same fate could’ve befallen Darcy twists my insides in a way I haven’t felt before.
“She’s in my car, just outside.” I lift my eyes to Darcy then as she gags. She turns away from me as vomit spews from her, brought on by the touch of death and its lingering presence. I want to reach out to her and place a comforting hand on her back, perhaps hold her hair for her. But I know it’s best to let her have her moment, to get her bearings with no more unwelcome physical contact. She straightens up then. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she turns to face me. “Darcy?—”
“Thank you,” she says then, cutting me off.
I nod. “You’re welcome,” I say as fresh tears fill her crystal blue eyes. As the weight of the evening settles on her, she shakes out her hands as if the movement will keep her calm, but it doesn’t. She breaks—tears pour from her like rain falling from the sky. “Darcy, may I?” I ask, taking a step toward her with my arms open. She looks at me cautiously. Her eyes drift down to the gun holstered on my hip. She bites her lip as her forehead wrinkles in confusion. But, alas, she nods and steps into my hug.
Gently, I wrap my arms around her as she cries. Rubbing my hand up and down her back, I comfort her. That is, until she says, “I failed.” The words rip through her as if someone has ripped her heart from her chest. Perhaps that’s what tonight feels like. “All I wanted was to keep her safe, and I failed.”
“You didn’t fail,” I say then, pulling away from her so that she can see the truth in my eyes. “Youdidkeep her safe.”
“But she saw?—”
“What she saw was her mother fighting for her, protecting her, putting herself in harm’s way to keep her safe. What she saw was your unceasing love for her. Everything else was out of your control.” It’s then that I lift my hand to Darcy’s cheek and wipe away her tears once more. The gesture takes her aback, though she does not pull away. “Now, let me keepyousafe. Let me protect you, Darcy. Let me help you. Will you let me do that?”
Darcy lowers her head. With her eyes trained on my chest, she takes a step back. “But…but why? Why me? And why are you even here? And what about all this? You killed them. You— Who are you?” Darcy’s confusion is apparent, yet her tone is free of the concern she had before. Perhaps, like I do her, she now finds me an enigma rather than an enemy.
“I understand you have questions. But there are certain things, Darcy, that I just can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone. What I can tell you is that I’m not them.” I motion toward the bodieson our right. “And I’m not your ex.” At that, she lifts her eyes to mine. “I will never hurt you or Delilah. And that’s what you’re really asking, isn’t it?”
As all that I tell her weighs on her, she nods. “Then, come with me. Come with me and leave all of this—this pain, this fear, this worry, and this tragic night—behind. You never have to know such horror again.” I extend my hand and wait patiently for her to take it.
9
Despite the humidityoutside left in the wake of the August rain, Gio turns on the heater as he takes us away from those monstrous menandthe city of New Orleans. It helps to dry our clothes, ease the tension in my muscles, and lull Delilah asleep as I hold her in my arms in the backseat of Gio’s car. I kiss the top of her head as Gio’s words echo through my mind.
There’s a part of me that knows he’s right. I did everything I could to keep Delilah safe both tonight and every night before. But, somehow, that truth doesn’t quell the ache in my chest. Maybe I did the best I could tonight, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have tried to escape Clive sooner, before Delilah saw him hit me. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t have spent our money more wisely so that we wouldn’t have been at the mercy of a shelter and now, a perfect stranger with a gun strapped to his hip, an eagerness to use it, and secrets I’m sure I never want to uncover.
As my weary gaze finds Gio, I know I am forever indebted to him. It’s a fact I loathe, a debt I can never repay, and yet, I’m grateful to him for saving us and the job and place of residence he’s offered. Though, as he continues driving through the darknight on a bridge that seems to never end, I wonder where this place is that he’s taking us. And, as my eyes drift from him to the clock, finding it just past midnight, I wonder when—if—I’ll ever be comfortable enough to join Delilah in peaceful sleep. God knows, I need it.
My head hurts with memories of the day. They are so vivid and a blur at the same time. The past twenty-four hours feel more like a month than a mere moment. My feet ache, as do my shoulders from carrying the weight of our forgotten packs. Perhaps, most of all, my skin itches in each place those men touched me—my neck, chest, ankles, and the space between my legs. If I wasn’t so tired, I would scratch myself to the blood just to rid myself of the lingering sensation of their touch. Even still, I’m not sure it would be enough. No. I will carry the memories of this night with me, just like the ones of Clive and all his many crimes against my flesh.
It’s then that I squeeze my thighs tightly together as if they are a locked door, the key to which I’ve buried somewhere so deep inside me no one will ever find it. I never want to be touched,violated, like that again. Perhaps I won’t.
My eyes find Gio once more. He promised to keep me—us—safe. And, while I’m not sure why—why he picked me, wants to help me—or even why I believe him. In this moment, I think I do. Gio Moretti will protect me. At least, that’s what I tell myself so that I can finally give in to my heavy eyelids and succumb to a long-awaited slumber.
My closed eyesflutter as I rouse from sleep. Blurry images of a man with dark hair play behind them. He carries Delilah up a staircase, and I follow, wearily, until collapsing on the last step.The two of them disappear behind a large wooden door and then he comes back for me. “Gio, just Gio.” Those words and his voice echo through my mind. He leans down and scoops me up as if I weigh nothing and the next thing I know…
I open my eyes, groggily so, as sunlight pours into the room. I moan, rolling over amongst the pillowy-soft bedding and wrap my arms around Delilah. Though, as I do, the rest of the memories from the night before flood me and I suddenly realize where we are.
I gasp and push myself up in bed, quickly assessing our surroundings. I was so exhausted and desperate last night I can hardly trust my own judgement in accepting Gio’s offer. Though, finding Delilah and I are safeandalone in the nicest room I’ve ever seen helps to ease my anxious stomach.
Inhaling deeply, I run my fingers over the white comforter. It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt. As my body adjusts to the first good night’s rest I’ve had in what seems like forever, I take another breath, and another and another, until I’m forced to cover my mouth to avoid waking Delilah. I pinch my eyes closed as my cheeks tighten and fresh tears drip down my face. I cry quietly in utter relief. It’s the same relief I felt last night when I finally woke from my state of shock in Gio’s arms.
No one has ever saved me before. When I met Clive, I thought he was my savior, but I was quickly proven wrong. But Gio… I uncover my mouth and wipe the tears from my cheeks. Gio could still prove me wrong. I don’t know him or why he was there last night or why he wants to help me, as he puts it. I know nothing about him and here I am…
“Okay, stop,”I whisper aloud. With an onslaught of anxious and fearful thoughts, I feel my sense of relief drifting away, and I’m not ready to let it go yet. I want to cling to this feeling as long as humanly possible, because it’s a feeling I don’t know that I’ve ever truly had. And so, with resolve, I assess the rest of the roomand focus on the potential positives of the present rather than the perils of my past.
My eyes drift to the stone walls and the vaulted ceilings framed with wooden beams. They make the room look like something from a fairytale—beautiful and enchanting, yet cozy and homey. There’s a cream-colored rug jutting out from underneath the bed, an upholstered chair in the corner, and a fancy-looking armoire across the room. While the furniture is minimal, the room itself is huge. If it weren’t for the windows on either side of our massive bed, there would be enough room for Delilah and me to have our own. Speaking of windows, there’s a ton on every wall except for the one with two doors and a large stone fireplace.
Wow!I pull my knees to my chest. Not that I’m looking for a reminder of home, but that fireplace reminds me of the best of the Northwest, although with a French-cottage flare instead of Western. If this is the guest room, I can’t imagine what the rest of the house looks like. Although the amount of sunlight streaming in through the sheer linen curtains does pose a slight problem in the morning, I’m truly speechless.
Glancing at Delilah and finding her still asleep, I hop out of bed and decide to do a little more exploring, seeing as I’m sure she and I will spend most of our time here. We’re not guests. I’m an employee and she is my responsibility, not Gio’s. I’m sure once my tasks for the day are done, we’ll retreat here. Which is fine by me. I like the quiet and we’re used to keeping to ourselves. Although, as I make my way to the three large sets of glass-paned French doors overlooking the back of the property, I think we might prefer the outdoors.
“Oh my gosh.” Behind the house is a garden of sorts. There are raised wood-framed beds which are currently empty but would make great places for fresh produce or flowers. They are surrounded by gravel which extends to a sort of courtyard witha wooden farmhouse table and more. Beyond that are hundreds of trees and, in the distance, I catch a glimpse of something that looks like a walking trail. Hmm. With such a big house, it only makes sense we’d be on a large piece of land. And, if I’m remembering correctly, the drive here was long. Perhaps because there’s not this much natural real estate in the city of New Orleans. “Where are we?”
