Those words crack the tension that’s held my body prisoner for the past few hours.

“You’re back,” I say. Don’t leave me again. Don’t leave.

Delilah relaxes too. She’s barefoot and still wearing the jeans and pink T-shirt she left in. It’s too dark to see her properly, but she seems . . . not happy but calm.

“I’m back.” There’s hesitation in her tone as though she’s unsure if she should be here. The fact that she doesn’t know is a tragedy. “Is that okay?”

“Okay?” I blow out a breath. “We were in a fight, Delilah. It’s going to happen now and then.”

A slow smile blooms. “Probably a lot.”

I smile too. It feels fragile but good. “Hopefully not too much.”

Her teeth snag on her lower lip, and she bites down, eyeing me from under her thick lashes. “But then we can make up?”

God, I want to make up. And then make up some more. Spend the entire week making up.

“Come to bed?” I’m this close to begging.

Delilah walks to the bed, slipping into a band of moonlight that slants through the bank of bedroom windows. But she sits instead of crawling under the covers. “I should have waited until morning and let you sleep.”

Fat chance of that.

“But I wanted to talk to you,” she goes on.

I don’t like the way she’s holding herself so stiffly. My guard comes up, and the tension in my neck returns. I sit beside her on the bed. “Delilah, you can say anything to me.”

Her teeth snag her lower lip. “I talked things out with Sam.”

I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but the sadness in her eyes hurts to witness. “You don’t sound happy about it.”

She makes a face. “Nothing is ever easy when it comes to Sam.”

Truer words.

“You all right?” I ask.

“I will be.” Which means she isn’t now. I can’t hold back from taking her hands and holding them between mine.

She threads her fingers through mine. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about the call.”

“It’s okay. I understand why you didn’t.” Now that I’ve calmed down and faced a few dark, lonely hours without her, I understand a lot of things.

Her gaze searches my face with a tenderness that I feel along my skin. “But most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you exactly why I was feeling vulnerable. I may get things wrong when it comes to you, Macon, but I trust you more than anyone. No one see me the way you do. It’s a gift I never saw coming, but I treasure it with my whole heart.”

“Oh, hell, Delilah . . .” I reach for her, gently squeezing the nape of her neck. But she doesn’t let me draw her in.

Her hand lands on my chest, not pushing me away but resting there like she needs to feel me as much as I need to feel her. “Let me say this.”

When I nod, she seems to steel herself. “I’ve realized a few things. First, my sister is an asshole.”

I choke on a laugh, shocked as hell.

But Delilah doesn’t notice; her lips purse in disapproval. “I don’t know why she is how she is. We essentially had identical upbringings. And yet she ended up selfish and petty. She finds a person’s weakness and exploits it. That she did it to me for so long hurts, and yet I feel sorry for her because she could be so much more—even if I want to punch her in the tit for all that she’s done. Despite all that, I still love her. I can’t help it. I do, and I always will.”

“She’s your sister. Of course you will.” My thumb sweeps across her cheek. “I’m sorry I tried to make you feel guilty about helping her. I was jealous, and I shouldn’t be—”

Delilah touches my chin, instantly making me quiet. “I’m not finished.” She takes an unsteady breath. “I realized that when my mother said she would always hold out hope for Sam, it was out of love, not because she had blinders on. I can’t protect my mama against Sam’s antics because she’s always seen them clearly. She simply loves her anyway.”

“She sees the good in everyone. I always admired her for that.”

Delilah hums in vague agreement. Then she fidgets, smoothing a wrinkle in the covers, tucking a lock of her hair back, looking everywhere but at me. “That brings me to my last point.”

“All right,” I say because she falls silent.

She blows out a hard breath as if bracing herself. “If Sam had it her way, you and I would be back to square one. I’d hate you forever, and we’d part as enemies. She actually begged me to leave you. She implied our relationship would drive a wedge between her and me that would never heal.”

I want to protest. Rant a little myself. But that won’t get me anywhere. Even so, my chest is tight and pained as Delilah continues. “She might be right about that wedge.”