I shrugged as I took a bite of my food. “The hardest part is that I still care about him.” I chanced a glance at him, and he looked deep in thought. “It wasn’t me he hurt, Abel.” His gaze snapped to mine.
“I’d have to disagree with you on that.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.” I shook my head as a tear slipped from my eye and rolled down my cheek.
“How did you two meet?” he asked, as he sat on the stool across from me. I ate as I slowly recounted the events that had brought me to Brock. I expected sarcastic remarks, but Abel just listened as I told him how I’d run away and ended up in the shelter. It was embarrassing to say it out loud, but he knew about struggling.
I pushed my bowl aside, and Abel stood, taking my hand and pulling me to the front door. I sat next to him on the porch steps as he lit a cigarette and held it out to me. I shook my head as I folded my arms and rested them on my knees.
“It feels like life ended when things went sideways.”
He took a drag, surrounding us in a cloud of smoke. “It feels like mine is finally beginning,” he said quietly.
“Must be nice.” I thought of Abel and Trish together, and the idea of it turned my stomach, but I still refused to admit to myself why. He deserved to be happy. As frustrating as he was, he really was a good person; he just couldn’t see it.
Shaking his head, he pulled another drag from his cigarette and ran his free hand over his damp hair.
“What?” I studied his profile.
“It’s not easy, Lie. None of this is fucking easy, but I’m trying.”
“So am I.”
He pushed to his feet as he flicked his cigarette into the grass and turned to go back inside. “Bullshit.” The door closed behind him, and I felt like all the air had been pushed from my lungs.
All my confusion became clouded by anger because that was easier than facing the truth. The truth was that he was right. I opened the door and went inside, determined to tell him to go fuck himself once and for all. Abel stood just inside, his back to me with his hands in his hair.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I spat, and he turned around, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears.
“You. You’re my fucking problem, Lie.” His tone softened. “You.” He took a step toward me, his large, warm hands sliding over my cheeks as his lips pressed hard and desperately against mine. My knees threatened to give out as my lips moved against his on their own accord.
It took only a few seconds for me to come to my senses, and I pushed against his chest, angry, but not exactly sure why.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I shouted, as I shoved back harder.
“What I’ve been wanting to do since the moment I met you.”
“Funny, because you had the opportunity to kiss me the night we met, and instead you made a fool out of me in front of my only friend.”
Abel’s expression turned angry as he pointed at my chest, and I pushed my back against the door. “I’m your friend, Lie. I’m your friend, but you’re too damn stubborn to let me in.”
“The last time I let someone in, a lot of people got hurt,” I shouted back with just as much anger.
“I’m not Brock, Delilah. I’m not him!” His voice echoed off the walls in the nearly empty house.
“You’re not. So stop trying to be, and leave me the hell alone!” Anger flowed through my veins, but I knew it wasn’t him I was mad at. I was mad at myself, because try as I might, I had feelings for this guy.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do, Abel. I mean it.”
He closed the gap between us as he swallowed hard. “You think if you keep saying it, I’ll suddenly stop caring? It doesn’t work that way, Kettle. Trust me—I’m fucking torturing myself here, and I can’t stop. I’m falling for you. If it were that easy, I would have walked away by now.”
His last sentence cut deep, but I deserved it. He was hurting from his own past, and I wasn’t helping him. “Abel…” My voice shook as I stared into his stormy ocean‐colored eyes. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault. But me…” My voice trailed off as I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to continue. My eyes slowly opened as his feather‐soft fingers slid over my jaw. “I’m responsible for what happened.”
“You can’t believe that. You can’t control what other people do.”
My hand covered his, intertwining our fingers and pulling his hand from my face. “I can prove you wrong.” I smiled sadly as his eyebrows knitted. I stepped around him and grabbed my purse. With shaky fingers I called Marie.
“Can I see you?” My eyes met Abel’s as he leaned against the archway to the living room. “I think I’m ready.”
“I can be at the office in twenty minutes, Delilah.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “I want to bring along someone…a friend.”
“All right.”
“All right,” I repeated then hung up and slid my phone into my purse.
“Where are we going?” Abel asked as he pushed himself from the wall. I walked around him to where I’d heard the dryer running earlier and grabbed my clothes.
“We’re going to go see Marie, my therapist, and I’m going to tell you what happened to me.”
Abel nodded and went up the stairs to get dressed. I let my fake smile fall as I undressed and pulled on my own clothing. There was no doubt this would end whatever it was we had, and as much as I tried to convince myself that was what I wanted it, the stabbing pain in my chest disagreed.
Chapter Fifteen
Facing Demons
Abel didn’t make chitchat as we drove across town to Marie’s office. I stared out the passenger window of his old muscle car, wishing we could drive to a new town or state where no one knew us, but it was finally time to stop running.
When we arrived I unbuckled my seatbelt but didn’t move. This was going to be excruciating, and even though Abel believed I wasn’t a bad person, there was little doubt that he’d soon change his mind.
“I’m right here, Lie. I’m not going anywhere.” He reached over and grabbed my hand.
“I know,” I lied, because that’s what I did. I gave him a weak smile and pushed open my door, letting my fingers slip from his grasp for what I knew was the last time.
I slowly made my way up the steps with Abel behind me, his hand on the small of my back. My lips still tingled from his kiss, and I wanted to turn around and press them back against his again, but I dragged myself to the door.
I stepped inside, and Abel pulled the door closed behind me.
“I’m in my office,” Marie called out.
“Last chance to run away,” I told Abel.
“Not a chance.” He chuckled as we stepped inside her office.
“Marie, this is Abel. Abel, that’s Marie.” I watched as she stood to shake his hand.
“I’m ready.” I didn’t need to elaborate. I knew Marie had been waiting for me to finally talk about that day when everything had gone wrong. I never wanted to say the words out loud for fear of admitting Brock was no longer by my side. Guilt had eaten away at me every day for missing him.
“Take your time, Delilah,” Marie said with a blank face, but I knew she was pleased. How could she not be? She had worked for months to get me to this point.
My hands shook as I sat down in the oversize black vinyl chair across the room. My eyes focused on a small fountain that was meant to be soothing, but every time I heard it, it made me need to go to the bathroom. Abel leaned against the large bay window, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
“Brock told me not to go to school that day.” I cleared my throat and dared a glance at Marie. Her pen was poised in her hand, but she stared intently at me, not writing. “I had a huge fight with my mom the night before. She found out that I had snuck out to see him.” I rolled my eyes as I peeled the light‐pink nail polish from my thumbnail. “Anyway…” A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my tears at bay. “I couldn’t stay home, not when she was so mad at me.”
I pushed myself up from my seat and hurried over to the water cooler in the corner of the room. I filled a paper cup and chugged down the cool liquid before tossing the cup into the wastebasket. I stared out the window, my arms over my chest, my eyes unfocused. I felt Abel’s eyes on me from the other end of the bay window, but I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to continue.
“I was late.” Outside it had started to drizzle, and I watched as tiny drops smacked the glass and trickled together before sliding out of view. “Class had started. Ms. Campbell was really strict.” I peeled the remaining flecks of polish from my nail, unsure if I could go on.
“Casey Campbell,” Marie said. She wasn’t asking me a question, but I nodded anyway. It was weird to hear her call a teacher by her first name.
“She was married,” I said, glancing back at Marie, whose expression hadn’t changed. “By the end of first period, I was dying to leave. I was worried that maybe Brock wanted to see me, and that was why he wanted me to stay home. I was afraid he’d hate me if he found out I went anyway.”
“Why would he hate you?”
“Why did anyone hate me?” I shrugged and let out a humorless laugh. “They just did.”
“Brock had proven himself to be different, hadn’t he?” Marie asked.
I nodded as a tear slid down my cheek. Brock was different from anyone I’d known. “He treated me like I was the most important person in the world.” I glanced at Abel’s expressionless face and back at Marie.
“Perhaps to him you were.”
“If I were, he wouldn’t have done what he did. He wouldn’t have left me.”
“Do you blame him?”
“For leaving me? Of course I do!” I spun around and glared at her.
“No. Do you blame him for what happened, or do you still blame yourself?”
“I don’t know anymore,” I said.
Marie smiled, looking pleased with my answer.
“You’re the only person who doesn’t judge him—or me for that matter.” I glanced at my shaky fingers as I balled my hands into fists, trying to stop them from revealing how scared I was.
“It isn’t my job to judge,” she said. “We all do things in life that we regret. We all make mistakes. That’s what makes us human.”
“Most would argue that Brock wasn’t.”
“That he wasn’t regretful?”
“That he wasn’t human.”
Marie shrugged. “Well, it’s easy to vilify people, to place blame. That’s human nature as well.”
“They blamed me.” Another warm tear slid down my cheek, and I resisted the urge to wipe it away. I was so tired of hiding my pain.
“You can’t control how others feel about you. What’s important is how you feel about yourself.” She adjusted in her seat, and I felt her eyes burn into me. “He didn’t leave you, Delilah.”
I sighed as I picked up a small brass cat that sat on the windowsill. My mother collected pointless little things like this. I suddenly had the urge to throw it against the window. My fingers curled around the knickknack as my knuckles turned white.
“Delilah, are you hearing me?”
“It’s ‘Lie.’ Everyone calls me ‘Lie.’” My voice was quiet and sad. It sounded strange hearing how weak I’d become over Brock.
“That’s a rather sad name for someone, don’t you think?”
“Not if it’s the truth.” I put the brass cat back in its place and ran my fingertips down the curve of its back.