“Yes?” he answers.
“I need a favor.”
“All right.”
“I need a ride from Delilah’s house to mine,” I tell him.
Levi waits, as if for an explanation. I don’t offer one. His silences might work on other people, but I’ve known him for thirty years.
“I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes,” I go on.
“Send me the address,” he says.
When I pull into her driveway, he’s already there: standing next to his truck, wearing jeans and boots and his winter coat, watching something in her yard.
I park, get out, walk over. He notices my face, my pajama pants, the car I showed up in, but he has mercy and just nods at Delilah’s yard.
“She feed them?” he asks.
I follow his gaze to a raccoon, sitting on its back legs, watching us expectantly.
“Yeah,” I say, and my voice sounds like dirt. I clear my throat. “That’s either Terry, Larry, or Jerry.”
“You really shouldn’t feed wildlife,” he says, with the air of someone who’s said it a thousand times before.
“You’ve got birdfeeders,” I point out.
He shrugs.
“They’re birds.”
“They’re life and they’re wild,” I say, my voice sharpening. “Is that not wildlife?”
Something flickers on his face that might be the tiniest smile.
“True,” he admits. “Got a suitcase or anything?”
I grab my stuff from her trunk, put her key under her mat, and climb into Levi’s truck. It’s a relief to drive away with my brother at the wheel, in this vehicle that smells like sawdust and dirt and not her shampoo. I close my eyes and drift halfway off, glad that I called the brother who knows how to be quiet for a minute.
When we get to my house, he comes inside with me, then takes off his coat and shoes like he’ll be here a while. I just watch, tired and drained.
“You should probably get some sleep,” he says. “You look like you’ve had a night.”
I’m sure I do. My eyes feel like somene’s held a match to them. My throat hurts like it’s sore from being tight for so long.
“I’m not really tired,” I say, because I can’t imagine sleeping.
“Do you want to change your clothes?”
Right. Pajamas, still.
“Good idea,” I tell him, and turn to go upstairs. When I glance down, he’s rolling up his sleeves, phone between his shoulder and his ear.
“Hey, June,” he says softly as I head into my bedroom. “I might not be back for a couple of hours…”
Chapter Forty-Five
Delilah
Eight Years Ago
(Eight months before the previous flashback)
Winona pops her head around the corner and gives me a very serious thumbs up.
“Coast is clear,” she says.
I swallow, trying to vanquish the tightness in my throat or the lump in my chest.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice about an octave higher than it should be.
“Ava and Olivia are out shopping,” she says. “Mom’s wrapping presents and on the phone with her sister, and Dad is… somewhere, I guess. You sure you’re okay? Do you want some water or something?”
I wave in the direction of the glass already sitting on a side table. Winona nods, still clearly worried.
Then she comes into the den and takes my shoulders in her hands. Even though she’s my younger sister, not even out of high school yet, somehow she’s always the one comforting and advising me, not the other way around.
“You’ll be fine,” she says, soothingly. “People break up all the time.”
“Thanks,” I say, nodding.
I almost tell her not like this, they don’t, not when they’ve been dating since high school and they’re supposed to be perfect together and live happily ever after but I know, somewhere deep down, that she’s right. It’s just a breakup. Thousands of them happen every day.
“I’ll keep running interference,” she says. “Let me know when it’s over?”
I just nod again, because I don’t trust my voice. Winona pats me one more time, then turns and walks out of the den.
I start pacing. Christmas is in a week, so the room is done up to the nines: garlands on the walls, bows over the fireplace, perfectly-appointed tree in one corner. It gives a weird, jolly vibe to the whole ordeal and makes me feel even crazier than I already do.
As I walk, I plan what I’m going to say, heart in my throat.
I think we should take a break for a while.
That’s it. Just a break, not a breakup. After a month or two I’m sure we’ll both have realized how much we really love each other and we’ll get back together, and this time it’ll be great and perfect and we won’t fight nearly every day because we’ll have seen the other side.
Then, this spring, he’ll graduate and get a job back here, and we’ll get engaged and married and that’s it, that’s the happy ending. It’s a story I’ve told myself again and again over the past month or two, even as I’m not sure I believe it myself anymore.
I love Seth. I’ve always loved Seth. I always will. Right?
A new wave of panic rolls its spikes over me. Right?
And then I can’t panic anymore, because there’s a knock on the door. I force myself to walk over. Take a deep breath. Pull it open, and there he is.
“Hey,” he says, grinning. He steps into the house, leans in for a kiss. His hand is cold on my face, and I can’t bring myself to give him more than a peck on the lips, because more than that feels like lying.
“Thanks for coming over,” I say, and my voice sounds strange, oddly formal even to myself.
Seth just laughs.
“Of course, Bird,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”
“Come on,” I tell him, and walk back to the den. I feel like I’m a robot giving a tour: here’s the foyer and here are the stairs and that’s a bathroom and…
“Your family around?” he asks, eyes following the big staircase to the second floor.
“They’re here somewhere,” I say. “You know.”
Once we’re in the den, Seth takes my hand. Leads me over to the tree, glowing with twinkling lights. Takes my other hand, holds them both in his. Looks deep into my eyes, his own that a shade of blue I’ve searched for but never found.
Slowly, a smile cracks across his face, and my heart hammers so hard I’m sure he can hear it. My stomach twists. I think I might throw up.
“Delilah,” he says, softly.
Say it, I tell myself. Say it. Say it.
Sayitsayitsayitsayitsayitsayitsayit.
Seth reaches into his pocket. Keeps my left hand in his.
Gets down on one knee, and this cannot be happening.
It can’t. It can’t. I’m vaguely aware that I’m supposed to be happy about this but instead I’m horrified, frozen. Powerless to make this stop.
“Seth,” I say, the word brittle.
He opens a box, the ring inside. Looks up at me with those eyes, the most perfect shade of blue.