still a lie. We were supposed to be pushing past all that, starting anew with everything laid out on the table. Yet I kept Sam’s call a secret. And he planned to keep the knowledge of the prank secret forever if he had his way.
The thought of him and Sam sharing this knowledge of my worst humiliation turns my stomach. I know he feels much the same about me keeping Sam’s call from him.
He’s right. If we can’t fully trust each other, what’s the point?
Tears blur my vision. He kicked me out. That hurt most of all. I’d gotten out of his room as fast as I could so he wouldn’t see me fall apart.
Sam isn’t in the house. I have no idea where she’s gone, and if I’m honest, part of me doesn’t care. I told Macon I wanted to talk to my sister—something I know pisses him off—but I’m so disgusted in her, in myself, I don’t know what I’d do right now.
I head to my mother’s because short of a hotel, I don’t have anywhere else to go. A sob breaks free as soon as I leave Macon’s property. It’s become my home. I know he’s angry and wants his space, but leaving him behind feels like a betrayal. Part of me wants to turn around and tell him, “Fuck no, I’m not going anywhere.” But I hurt him, and if he wants space, I’ll give it to him.
My mother takes me in without question, though I know she can tell I’ve been crying. Quietly, she hand washes the dishes, affording me a moment of privacy.
I sit at my customary spot at the table, feeling all of twelve years old. I’m half-tempted to ask for peanut butter cookies. But it’s soothing here as well, with the familiar sounds of my mother cleaning and the faint scent of lemon Pledge rising from the oak table.
“Well,” I say with a wobble in my voice. “Here I am again.”
“Now then,” she says, setting down the dishrag. “What’s this all about?”
“Macon . . .” It’s all I can get out before losing it.
When tears well up in my eyes, she gasps and sits by my side to grab my hand with her cool one. “Did he hurt you?” She asks it mildly, but there’s a promise in her voice that tells me that she will, in fact, tan Macon’s hide if he did.
My smile is wobbly and brief. “No. Not at all. He’s been . . .” A revelation. “Wonderful. We started up, and it was wonderful. Perfect. And then Sam showed up.”
One silvery-blonde brow lifts delicately. “Sam? Has she finally returned, then? What has that girl gotten herself into this time?”
“Oh, Mama . . .” I press my hands against my hot face. “Everything.”
My confession comes in a great purge of words, quickly spilled so I don’t have to feel the full impact of them. I tell her everything, starting with the texts and ending with Sam showing up at Macon’s house. I keep out the details of exactly how she found Macon and me, but I don’t hide my culpability.
When I’m finished, I drop my hands from my eyes and face my mother.
“Well, fuck,” she says. I choke out a laugh, and she quirks a brow. “Some things need cursing. And this is one.”
“You’re right about that.” I let out a shuddery breath and attempt to rein in my tears. I’m a damn leaky faucet now. A lifetime of not crying undone in a single night. “Macon was so hurt that I didn’t tell him about Sam calling. And he’s pissed that I always try to cover for her.”
Mama rests her hand on mine. “Delilah, honey, he has a point. Why did you offer to work off her debt? You didn’t have to do that.”
“He said he’d call the police. If she went to jail . . . your heart . . .”
Her face darkens, thunderclouds gathering in her eyes. “Delilah Ann, are you telling me you thought I am so delicate that I cannot handle my own daughter’s bad behavior?”
“Yes?”
That silver brow wings up again. This time it’s a warning.
My shoulders sag. “I was afraid. I don’t want to lose you or see you upset.”
“Honey.” Her hand returns to mine. “What’s this really about? Why do you really feel this need to protect us?”
“You and Daddy chose me. You didn’t have to, but you did.” Tears well up again. “How can I not pay you back by trying