Discovering Delilah (Harborside Nights, Book 2)(76)

“Come on, Dad!” I say through gritted teeth.

It’s no use. His voice doesn’t come.

I wipe my tears and set the photo aside. My mother’s laugh sails into my mind. It’s high-pitched, and breathy at the end. I look around the empty room, and of course I’m alone. I fight the urge to bolt. I know my subconscious is trying to weaken me, and I’m determined not to run back to Harborside.

I head for the stairs and decide to box up my room instead. Maybe something up there will stir the memory of my father’s voice.

My room feels cold and stale. It doesn’t smell like my room anymore. It doesn’t smell like anything but emptiness. I open the windows to air it out. Aunt Lara left boxes on the floor beside my bed, labeled, with a roll of tape beside them. Books, pictures, school stuff, shoes, clothes, notebooks, sketch pads…

Sketch pads.

I open my desk drawer and take out a pad and a pencil, then sit on my bed. Even though I’ve just seen a picture of my father, his image doesn’t come easily. I wonder if one day I won’t be able to remember his face at all. That thought makes me try harder to recall his image. I used to be able to sketch my parents from memory. I did it a hundred times over the years.

My pencil begins to move along the rigid paper as if it has a memory of its own. Shading comes easily as I sketch his rounded cheekbones and angular nose. I shade his wide, full mouth and strong, square jaw, which Wyatt inherited. His features aren’t present in my mind, but a while later, with a slight breeze whispering across my skin, the image of my father’s face comes into focus.

And the affection in his eyes stills my heart.





Chapter Twenty-Six


~Ashley~

“YOU SURE YOU want to do this? I mean, most people just block their exes’ numbers and move on.” Brandon’s reclining in the passenger seat of my car. His feet are propped up on the dash.

“I know they do, but I need to tell her face-to-face. She left me insecure and untrusting, and I hate her for that.”

“Whoa. Am I going to see a bitch fight?” Brandon rights his seat and runs his hand through his hair.

“No, you weirdo.” I park the car at Sandy’s apartment complex. I know she still lives here because in one of her texts she said that when she broke up with her boyfriend, she kept the apartment. Not that I asked. “You coming up or staying here?”

“I’m coming up, because you may not want a bitch fight, but bitches be crazy, so…”

“God, Brandon. That’s offensive.”

He cocks a brow and climbs from the car. “I’m protecting you.”

“Whatever. You’re probably hoping we end up tearing each other’s clothes off.” We walk across the parking lot and into the building.

“If you weren’t dating Delilah, I’d totally be into that, but I don’t want you to hurt her.”

Like most of Brandon’s friends, I’m usually exposed to his crass side, but every now and then he comes out with something like that and surprises me.

“Thank you, Brandon.”

He shrugs. “Whatever. Don’t get all sappy on me.”

When we reach her apartment, I draw in a deep breath. Brandon steps aside and waves his hand, as if he’s Vanna White showing me a prize. I roll my eyes, then knock on the door. It’s almost as loud as my heart hammering against my chest.

A skinny brunette answers the door wearing a pair of tight shorts and a tank top. She eyes us cautiously. “Yes?”

I didn’t think this through very well. I wonder if she’s Sandy’s girlfriend and Sandy’s texts to me meant she was willing to cheat on her, too. My stomach gets queasy.

“Um…Is Sandy here?”

“Sure. Hold on.” She partially closes the door. “San? There’s people here for you.”

Sandy opens the door, and it takes a second for my face to register. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She’s wearing a shirt that says Nike across her chest and a pair of jeans. Her blue eyes open wide and a genuine smile stretches across her lips.

“Ashley.” She opens her arms, and I take a step back, holding out my hand to keep her a good distance away.

I’m surprised by my visceral reaction to seeing her. She’s the same pretty girl with the same perfect smile and amazing body, but I see past that to the devious girl who hurt me, and I realize that I don’t give a shit if that other girl is her girlfriend or not. If she is, I feel sorry for her.

Her brows knit together and her eyes shift rapidly between me and Brandon. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans her hip against the doorframe.

Goodbye smile.

“So…?”