She hooks her elbow around my neck and pulls me closer. “I think we’re going to be okay here.”
The raised crescent scar on her forehead rubs against mine and the image of blood floods my memory. I can barely remember a time when Dad didn’t hit Mom, but other than yelling at us any time we happened to cross his path, he mostly ignored Destiny and me. But that scar has something to do with Dad—and the fire. I just can’t remember what, exactly. Destiny and I don’t talk about that night. Ever. So, instead of asking any of the myriad questions that have haunted me for the last two years, I dip my spoon into the ice cream. “The waitressing is working out?”
“The money’s not great yet, but it will be better when I take over nights in a month or two. And I’ve got a longer-term plan in the works. I’m feeling pretty good about things, actually. You?”
I nod as I lick my spoon. “It’s way different from home. I miss Lo. But I think it will be good. Like I said, I can get a real job here and—”
“I thought we agreed you’re starting school next week,” she cuts in, all concerned mother.
I grab a handful of hair. “Why?”
“Because you’re sixteen, Delilah! It’s the law. We don’t need the local authorities deciding you’re truant and snooping into our business.”
I blow out a sigh. “Fine. But I’m still getting a job. I’ll find something after school.”
She nods, relieved. “As long as you still have time to study. School first.”
“Fine,” I repeat, even though the idea is about as appealing as vomit on toast.
“Have you met Vicky?” she asks me, settling deeper into the cushions and pulling her legs back up now that it’s settled.
“Who’s Vicky?”
“Bran’s mom. She owns the bar, but she’s probably gone by the time you get there.”
“Must be. I haven’t met her.”
“And Bran?” she asks.
I can tell she’s still looking at me and I keep my eyes on the TV, because at Bran’s name, I’m suddenly hot all over. “What about him?”
“He’s sort of intimidating, but he’s a really great guy.”
“He seems okay,” I say, working to keep my tone indifferent.
She gouges out a huge hunk of ice cream. “Hoping he’s also the jealous type.”
Something in my chest turns to stone and my eyes snap to hers. “Why?”
“Because I walked out tonight with another guy, so if he’s not, that long-term plan I’m working on may very well backfire.”
I can hardly breathe. “Bran is your long-term plan?”
She sets the ice cream down and turns her body to face me. “We need stability, Lilah. Bran’s family has run that bar forever. They make good money.”
I’m suddenly ice. “Do you love him?”
She huffs a laugh through her nose and shakes her head. “I’ve only known him for a week.”
“So…I’m not following.”
“I think it could become something, is all I’m saying.”
I can’t even think. “I’m going to bed,” I say, standing. I take my spoon to the kitchen and get ready for bed, but my heart is pounding so loudly in my ears that there’s no way I can sleep.
But what I know is, I can’t go back to Sam Hill next weekend.
Or ever.
Chapter 5
Bran
It’s Friday and I’m wound so fucking tight that I can’t stand still, because I haven’t seen Lilah anywhere but in my fantasies for the last six days. And those fantasies have been mind-blowing.
When she left last Saturday, she said someone was waiting for her, which probably means she’s got a boyfriend. That would be an obstacle, but not one I’m too worried about. I’ve seen the way she flushes when she looks at me, the way her nipples prick to tight pebbles under her shirt—the same way my cock responds to her.
So, there’s one thing I’m certain of: I am going to have Lilah.
The when is less certain.
I’m pacing behind the bar, trying to sort in my head how long I need to wait before I can fuck Destiny’s sister without being an asshole. At first, I thought a month, but now I’ve convinced myself maybe a week is good enough.
Because my undeniable truth is that she’s consumed my mind. I haven’t been able to think about anything else all week long. Every night, I’ve stretched out on my bed, pressed my earbuds in and listened to her sultry voice until the sun came up. I’m convinced if sex could sing, it would sound just like Lilah.
Eight comes and goes, but I don’t start flipping my shit until after nine when she’s still not here. I get so far as to go into the office and pull up Destiny’s file on Mom’s laptop to find her number. I could call her, but then what? Even with my moral compass spinning out of control, I know that asking Destiny why her sister didn’t show up for an unpaid gig is a little off.
It’s almost nine-thirty and I’m still watching the door like a hawk when Carol leans on the end of the bar and rubs her swollen belly. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I thought I wanted another kid. I’ve changed my mind.”