Discovering Delilah (Harborside Nights, Book 2) (18 page)

“And who’s this handsome boy?” Delilah touches the little boy’s shoe.

“This is Drew, my little man.” Drew hides his face in Dean’s neck. “He’s tired and a little shy.”

“He’s adorable.” I remember
Delilah telling me that Janessa’s brother had a son Jackie liked to have slumber parties with.

“Thanks,” Dean says. “Well, sis, we’d better get going and put these guys to bed.”

Janessa reaches for her purse, and Delilah hands it to her. Janessa opens it and fishes for her wallet.

“I’ve got this one,” I offer. I step back so I’m shoulder to shoulder with Delilah. She may not be ready
to hold hands, but a little comfort goes a long way.

“Thank you, Ashley.” Janessa looks at Delilah and narrows her eyes. “Don’t forget what I told you.”

Delilah hooks a finger around one of mine and nods.

I just fell a little harder.

Delilah drops my finger before we leave, but not before Brooke sees us and flashes a warm smile. I think Delilah has blushed more times tonight than
the whole time I’ve known her. We walk out of town toward her house, where we’ve chosen to stay tonight, and although we’re not walking hand in hand, Delilah is close enough that I don’t feel a distance.

“Thanks for meeting us tonight,” Delilah says.

“Thanks for inviting me. I
really
wanted to hate Janessa.”

Delilah laughs. “I guess I don’t blame you. I want to hate Sandy.”

“Be
my guest. Hate her. But I can’t hate Janessa. Now I get why she offered you what she did. I can’t imagine losing a sibling.”

We turn down her street and she reaches for my hand. I have to work hard to stifle my grin and hide my elation at her gesture, but I know she can feel positive energy coming off of me because her eyes keep darting to me and she’s got a wide grin on her lips, too. Working
through Delilah’s insecurities makes me feel like I’m back in high school, holding hands for the first time ever.

“Do you mind if I ask you what Janessa was talking about when she said to remember what she said?”

Delilah remains silent for a few minutes, and when we reach her driveway, she turns to face me.

“You can always ask me anything. She told me to acknowledge you in public,
or I’d hurt your feelings.” Her eyes get serious. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Ash. I’m trying.”

I step closer. It’s dark and there’s no one outside, so I’m pretty sure she won’t mind, but I don’t touch her, even though I’d like to gather her in my arms and tell her how wonderful she is.

“I know you are, and I appreciate all of your efforts. The way you held my hand under the table.
The way you linked one finger with mine. The way you look at me.”

She gazes into my eyes for a long while. Her eyes shift right and then left. Her brows knit together, and she releases my hand and places her hands on my cheeks. My heart is pounding so hard I’m afraid I’m going to pass out. She closes her eyes and presses her lips to mine.

It’s a quick kiss.

A sweet kiss.

A kiss
that lasts only three seconds at most.

It’s a kiss that makes the earth shift beneath me.

~Ashley~

THE RAIN THAT threatened earlier in the week passed us by, leaving sticky days in its wake. Friday greets us with mugginess that rivals the worst of them. Delilah finishes packing a bag for the weekend, and when Wyatt walks out of his room and sees her carrying it, he takes it from her. Delilah rolls her eyes. I know she loves how Wyatt is always there for
her, but I have noticed recently that she has been getting a little irritated when he tries to help her with things.

“You’ll be back Saturday evening?” He’s wearing a tank top and cargo shorts and has a serious look in his green eyes.

“Yeah. I made sure the Taproom was fully staffed, and I programmed Ash’s number and her parents’ address into your phone.”

He slides that serious look
to me. “No drinking and driving.”

I roll my eyes, but catch myself midroll when I remember that their parents were killed by a drunk driver. “I promise, Wyatt. I’ll take excellent care of her.”

I reach for Delilah’s hand, and she takes it willingly. Of course she does. We’re in the privacy of her house. I long for her to feel this comfortable in public.

“We’ll be fine, Wy. I’ll text
you when we get there so you don’t worry.”

“Cassidy will kill me if I don’t remind you to take pictures of Kenny’s play. You know how much she loves kids.” Not only does she love kids, but she loves plays and loves looking at pictures of everyone’s families. I have a feeling that if—when—they get married, Cassidy will want kids right away. Wyatt motions for us to go down the stairs first.
Always the gentleman.

“I’m a photo fool when it comes to Kenny. I’ll take more than she’ll want to see.”

“Have you met my girlfriend?” Wyatt teases. Cassidy takes all the pictures for hers and Brooke’s party-planning business. She almost always has a camera in her hands, and when she’s home, she’s tweaking pictures on one of her many computer programs.

I go into the kitchen to make
us coffee, and Tristan hands me two to-go cups.

“Already made them, hon.”

“Thanks, Tristan. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I knew you guys would be anxious to get on the road and beat the traffic.” Tristan puts an arm around me. “Text and let me know you get there safely.”

“Wyatt beat you to it, but I will—don’t worry.” I love that they’ve all accepted me into their close-knit group.
I cross the hardwood floor toward Delilah and hand her a cup of coffee. “Compliments of Tristan.”

“Thanks, Tris,” she says.

He bows.

“Oh, I forgot my shampoo. Hold on.” She hurries upstairs.

Wyatt drapes an arm over my shoulder—what is it with the guys in this house and arms? He guides me toward the far side of the room and lowers his voice.

“Are your parents cool with you
and Delilah? Because I know you’re excited about your new relationship, but this is a big step for her, meeting your parents and—”

I press my finger to his lips. “I’ve got this, Wyatt. I would never put Delilah in an uncomfortable position. Yes, my parents are comfortable, and I’ve already told them that she’s my girlfriend, but she’s not exactly comfortable with public displays of affection.
They know everything they need to know about us and about her. They’re good people, Wyatt. I’m a good person. I won’t let her get hurt on my watch.”

He nods. “Thank you. This is the first time she’s traveled since…”

I hadn’t taken
that
into consideration. “I’ll be extra aware. I promise. I know you love her, and I know you worry. I do, too.”

He nods again, but I can see it’s a struggle
for him to trust me—or probably anyone—with taking Delilah away from Harborside.

“She really likes you, Ashley.”

“I know.”

“But she’s still dealing with a lot of stuff.”

“She knows.”

We both spin around at the sound of Delilah’s voice. 

“Dee…”

“She knows I’m dealing with stuff, Wy. You don’t need to warn her like I’m a volcano about to blow.” She puts a hand on her
hip and holds his stare.

“I don’t think you’re a volcano. I’m more worried that—”

“That you’re a fragile little butterfly whose going to get blown away with the first gust of wind,” Cassidy says as she comes up behind him and reaches for his hand. “He means well. Really, he does.”

Delilah rolls her eyes. “I know you do, Wyatt, but I’m not a fragile butterfly. I’m not a volcano. I’m
just a girl who lost her parents and fell for another girl.”

When she wraps her arm around my shoulder, it’s one arm I’m happy to snuggle into—and I am floored to hear determination and confidence in her voice. But when she kisses me smack on the lips, my eyes widen and I can’t help but laugh a little. It’s so…rebellious. And I like it. A lot.

She settles a smirk on those luscious lips
of hers and wiggles her shoulders at her brother.

“I’ve got this, Wy.”

“Yeah, I guess you do.” He pulls her away from me and into his arms and squeezes her so hard she complains. “But I’m always going to be your big brother, and I’m always going to worry. So you can act all tough and kiss as many girls as you like—”

“Hey! No, she cannot.” I level him with a harsh stare.

Wyatt’s
voice remains serious. “Okay, you can act all tough and kiss
Ashley
as many times as you want, but it won’t stop me from worrying.”

“Fair enough. You worry, but tell Cassidy about it, not me. Let me live under the guise of being a grown-up.” She takes my hand and pulls me toward the door. “Come on, Ash. Let’s go by your place and get your stuff.”

As soon as we’re in the Jeep, she cranks
the radio. “Are there any open apartments at your complex?”

“What? Why?”

“Because I think it’s time for me to start cutting the umbilical cord.”

She backs out of the driveway, and I have no idea if she’s kidding or not, but I just added
growing up Delilah
to my list of the Delilahs I love.

~Delilah~

THE DRIVE TO Ashley’s parents’ house is so fun that I forget I’m nervous about
meeting them. We sing too loudly and off-key and talk about everything from our favorite foods—
Ash’s is sushi, mine’s brownies with cream cheese frosting
—our favorite shoes—
Any of Ash’s sandals, my leather boots
. We stop for snacks and joke about how we’ll weigh eight hundred pounds by the time we get there if we keep eating M&M’s and Starburst. This is the most fun I’ve had in years. Ashley is
so easy to be around, and when we went into the rest stop to get snacks, she didn’t get upset when I didn’t hold her hand, and I loved the way she smiled when I hooked my finger in her belt loop instead. I know it’s silly. I mean, what’s the difference between a belt loop and a finger? I have no clue, but it made me feel less like my parents were glaring down at me from above. And I’ll take it for
what it’s worth.

I may never be ready to leap, but like Tristan said, this is a slow progression of coming into my true self, and I’m so thankful that Ashley’s with me as I try to find my way free of my insecurities.

Ashley’s parents’ neighborhood is totally different from our community in Connecticut. The houses are smaller and the cars out front are older, not as flashy. Even the yards
look more like they’re lived in than the manicured lawns around ours. All of that makes this area feel homier and less stuffy, but the thing that strikes me with the greatest impact is the number of parents and children that are outside, a rarity in our neighborhood. Women are talking on front porches, watching children playing in the yards. Two teenage girls are sitting in the grass in the side
yard of a house across the street. I can’t remember ever seeing neighbors socializing on our street in Connecticut, unless you count Halloween, when kids went door to door begging for candy. Only our neighbors’ candy was bagged in sparkly little bags and tied with ribbons.

A black car pulls into the driveway next door, and a guy jumps out and waves to Ashley.

“Hey, Ash!” He jogs up the
sidewalk toward the Jeep.

“That’s Bolton. We went to school together.” Ashley climbs from the car, and Bolton, who’s at least as tall as Wyatt, with blond hair and bright blue eyes, picks her up and spins her around. “God, look at you.” He sets her back down on the ground. “You’re gorgeous.”

Seeing Bolton reminds me of Wyatt. I text him before I forget, and let him know we’ve arrived safely.

Ashley slaps Bolton’s stomach. “And you’ve turned into a rock star. You’re all muscles and manly.”

“I’ve always been muscles and manly. You just never noticed.” Bolton waves to me as I step from the Jeep. “Hey. I’m Bolton.”

“This is my girlfriend, Delilah.”

I hadn’t considered how it would feel to be
introduced
as her girlfriend. It feels good
and
embarrassing. I watch Bolton’s
face for a reaction, but his smile broadens, revealing dimples that could rival Mario Lopez’s.

Bolton comes around the Jeep and hugs me. Tight. “You’ve got the best girlfriend around. I’d date Ash in a heartbeat if she liked guys.”

Okay, now it feels good. Really good
.

“Let me help you guys bring your stuff inside. Are you here for Kenny’s play?”

“How’d you know?” I ask.

“Kenny’s
leading lady is my sister Patricia. You should see the two of them practicing. I swear they’re not seven. They’re teenagers.” He reaches into the back of the Jeep and grabs our bags. “So, how’d you two meet? Where’d you go to school? Do you live in Harborside, too?”

“Don’t give her the third degree.” Ashley grabs my arm and holds me back from following him. She lowers her voice. “I don’t want
you to be uncomfortable, so I won’t hold your hand or anything inside, but just don’t take it as me not
wanting
to. Okay?”

She’s just won the best-girlfriend-of-the-century award.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Come on,” Bolton hollers. “The minute I open the door, Kenny’s going to barrel out. Are you ready?”

“He’s right.” Ashley glances at the house, then back at me. “Kenny also has no filter.
He’ll embarrass you. I apologize ahead of time.”

“He’s seven. How embarrassing can he get?”

Ashley touches my arm but doesn’t hold it as we walk toward the house. “Way more than you can imagine. He doesn’t slow down to think before he speaks. Maybe he’ll be sidetracked with Bolton. He adores him.”

The front door swings open and a lanky blond boy barrels into Bolton and wraps his spindly
arms around him.

“Bolton! You’re back! Are you coming to the play? Patricia and I have to hug and I think it stinks. I don’t want to hug her, but she said sometimes I have to do things I don’t want to.”

“Hey, buddy. I wouldn’t miss it for the world, and one day you’ll be glad you got to hug Patricia. You’ll see it won’t stink. Trust me on that.”

Kenny laughs. “You’re so weird.” He
pries himself from Bolton, and his eyes widen, his mouth drops open, and he sprints toward us. “Ash! You’re home! You’re home!” He jumps into her arms, and the force of his body sends Ashley stumbling back. She laughs and hugs him tight.