Discovering Delilah(71)

“Thought you were leaving tomorrow.”

I grab my underwear and slam the drawer shut. “Changed my mind.” I stuff it into the bag, throw in a pair of flip-flops, and zip it up.

Brandon sits up as I grab the handles and he clutches my wrist. “Delilah, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

He nods at the bag. “This is not nothing. Wyatt will freak if he finds out you’re driving home at night.”

I shrug and pull my wrist from his grip. “Wyatt can’t control everything I do.”

Brandon follows me out of the room and down the stairs. “Want me to come with you so you have company in the car?”

I sigh loudly as I stalk out the door. “No. You have a gig this weekend with your band. I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe you should call Wyatt so that he doesn’t tear me a new one when I tell him I let you go.” Brandon opens the passenger door and takes my bag, throws it in, then closes the door. “You sure you’re not too upset to drive?”

“You’re a good friend, Brandon. I’m too upset not to drive. I’ll call Wyatt in a little while.”

“Once you’re out of Harborside?”

“A smart friend, too. If you talk to Wyatt, don’t let him tell you that you let me do anything. I don’t need permission to leave.” I climb into the Jeep and put my phone on the passenger seat. The message light is blinking. Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?

I start the Jeep and scroll through the messages. Janessa. Wyatt. Ashley.

Tossing the phone back on the passenger seat, I wave to Brandon and pull out of the driveway. I’m in no mood to answer to anyone, and I know what Ashley’s text is going to say. The same thing she’s been texting all day. She’s sorry. She wasn’t thinking. She loves me.

I drive toward the highway with my head swimming in too many thoughts to try to decipher them. Traffic on the highway is light, and I drive for an hour, listening to Ashley’s iPod. As I near the site of my parents’ accident, I become consumed with thoughts of them.

What were they thinking right before it happened? Were they arguing about me? Were they thinking about how much I disappointed them? Were they wishing that I didn’t exist?

My hands begin to shake and I grip the steering wheel tighter and move over to the right lane as I near the point of their accident. I’ll never be able to drive by this mile marker and not think of them. The skid marks have faded from the road, and broken glass no longer litters the pavement. They’ve been swept away like they never even existed. Thousands of people drive by this spot every day. Did any of them see the accident? Hear about it? Does anyone think about the children my parents left behind?

My Jeep veers onto the shoulder as if it has a mind of its own. I park way off to the side and put on my hazards. I can’t take my eyes off the middle of the road where the truck hit them. My father’s face appears before me, and it’s not the loving face I want to see. The warm eyes I desperately need to see right now. It’s the disheartened look of disappointment staring back at me, his green eyes hooded and serious. His lips curved down slightly at the edges. Sobs rumble from my lungs, burning my throat as my vision blurs and my tears wash away my father’s image.

I bury my face in my hands and close my eyes tight. My fucked-up mind conjures my mother’s face with her own disconcerted look.

Stop. Please, please stop.

I stumble out of the car and run into the grass, away from the blurry headlights coming in my direction. My fisted hands press against my eyes, and at first the screams seem like they’re miles away, and I wonder who’s yelling. Then I realize the pained cries are coming from my lungs. My burning chest. My broken heart as I collapse to my knees and claw at the grass, like I can dig my way out of the pain. Every tear I’ve ever held back is falling, one chasing the next and the next, with no reprieve on the horizon. I sink back on my heels and my arms fall limply to my sides as I give in to the sadness.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” My words are drowned out by the sounds of the traffic whizzing by.

By the place where my parents lost their lives.

The place where their lives were stolen from me and Wyatt.

The place that swallowed my hope of being able to talk to them again. To try to wipe that look of disappointment off their faces.

Fucking hell.

Life sucks.

It’s so unfair.

I sit on the side of the road gulping in air, trying to regain control of my breathing.

I can’t go back.

I can’t fix what happened. I can’t change what I said or make them look differently at me.