“Delilah, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Please, Brody . . . I think I want to go home,” I say quickly as my heart beats against my chest.
“Sure, if that’s what you want,” he says without hesitation and suspicion in his voice.
“I do.”
“Okay, let me get the check.”
He glances at my trembling hand that I can’t seem to get under control. Brody spots the waiter on the other side of the room and motions for the bill.
“I’ll meet you outside. I-I need some air.” I slide off the tall chair, grabbing my sweater and purse. My feet wobble as I hurry through the restaurant, holding back the tears that sting the back of my throat.
Damn it. What was I thinking? A little too much wine made me have a loose tongue.
I welcome the fresh cool air when I swing open the large wood door. Anxiousness overwhelms me and my reflexes kick in.
I keep my head face forward while dodging the tourists and locals gallivanting along the Santa Monica Pier.
I hear him calling my name from behind me, but I keep walking, just like I did the night at the club. Only this time, I don’t look back, afraid he’ll catch up and I will need to figure a way to crawl out of the hole I just dug myself into.
How can I be so stupid? I let my guard down and my emotions overreact over two hockey players having it out on the ice. The use of their brute force I clumsily compared to my past with Todd.
My breath is shaky, my nerves rattling as I bump into Brody’s hard chest. His gentle hands on my shoulders prevent me from walking past him.
“Please, Brody. Let me go.”
The weight of his unrelenting eyes bore into mine, comforting and frightening me all at the same time. His eyes give nothing away as he stares at me. Something about him stirs deep feelings within me and I don’t know how to control it.
And like the gentleman he is, he doesn’t force me to say anything else.
Brody wipes my cheek with his thumb, the fallen tear I didn’t know was there. Without preamble, he leans in, cups my face, and presses his lips to mine.
It’s a gentleman’s kiss. It’s tender, yet powerful as if he’s fighting the demon waging war inside me. His feather-light kiss makes me forget the past and remember the here and now even though I can taste the salt from my tears.
The finesse of his soft lips weakens my knees. And the only reason I am still standing is from his arm that gently wraps around my waist, pulling me closer to every inch of his firm chest as his other hand is at the base of my neck.
The sound of the ocean crashing in the distance seeps into my consciousness as I force myself to slowly pull back from him.
Brody’s done nothing wrong, yet my defense shield is up as if he did.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kiss you like that.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Brody.” I squeeze my eyes shut as another tear escapes and rolls down my face.
“Tell me what happened in there, Delilah,” he whispers, studying my face. The warmth of his hand caresses my spine and the sound of my name never sounded so safe in the refuge of his arms.
“Please . . . can you just let me go?” I whisper.
“Not a chance, Dorothy,” he replies, embracing me in his strong arms and kissing the top of my head. “Not this time.”
The full moon illuminates the ocean and the waves crash below us as I grip the edge of the wooden rail of the pier. I shiver as the chill from the marine layer sneaks in as Brody drapes his jacket over me.
Loose strands tickle my face as I push my hair back behind my shoulder. I keep looking forward and the weight of Brody’s scrutiny is ever so present during our silence.
He didn’t say another word or ask questions which has allowed me to gather my thoughts and calm my panic attack.
Finding my courage, I take in a deep breath before I speak. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
Brody turns his head to face me and I slowly turn to look at him. His brandy-colored eyes sparkle under the flickering lamp above us.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I am a good listener if you want to talk about it.”
“It’s nothing.”
He narrows his eyes and I know he doesn’t believe me. “It sure didn’t seem like nothing.”
“Brody, I just got carried away.” A lie I’m sure he can see right through. “I’ve got some baggage, that’s all,” I mutter as my fingers pick at the wooden rail.
“Baggage,” he repeats. “I know all about baggage.”
“Does it have anything to do with the scars on your hand?” My eyes veer to the welts of his scars from healed cuts and burns.
“That’s part of it.” There’s struggle in his voice as he lets go of my hand and he opens his palms. “This baggage”—he lifts his hand and examines it—“comes with faults of my own.”
I see the sadness in his eyes when he clears his throat, as if Brody just realized he’s opened up to me. Although the burns and external scars are very much visible, so are the internal ones.
“Did he hurt you?” His direct question startles me. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that he put two and two together with the way I acted at the restaurant.
I open my mouth to speak, then close it. We’re playing a game of show and tell and I’m not sure I want to play.
“What makes you say that?” I force down a swallow and shift my feet.
“Delilah, back at the restaurant . . . When you said, he kept hitting her . . . is she you?”
My hand goes to my chest, trying to control my breathing. I press my lips together and try to hide the fear in my eyes.
I don’t understand why I can’t let my past go and enjoy this moment with Brody. A man that wants to make me smile and who has made me laugh so many times tonight. A man that has surprised me more times than Todd ever did.
Is she me? It’s a question I don’t want to answer.
I don’t want him to see the faults and fears of how I perceive men and what they are capable of. Maybe I was wrong to think I was ready to date again. I want to reinforce my wall around me but when I look at him, it’s no use.
Brody is different. He’s proven it with the small gestures that went straight to my heart. I close my eyes momentarily and try to shake the horrible memories that are pushing their way to the surface.
“Hey, look at me . . . I’m sorry,” he says as if he notices that I’m struggling with the whirlwind of emotions. “Just know this . . . I’ll be here for you whenever you’re ready.”
“I really screwed up this night, didn’t I?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Liar.” I nudge his hip with mine.
“There’s nothing screwed up about tonight. I’m with you and that’s a win for me.”
“You sure know how to make a girl feel good, Brody Reinhardt.”
He tucks a hair behind my ear as a gust of wind blows from the ocean. “Look, I know he hurt you. How bad? I don’t know, but I can only assume. But believe me when I say this, you deserve to be put on a pedestal, Delilah.”
“But you hardly know me.”