Until Delilah by Harlow Layne
Max
I’m pullinginto my driveway with thoughts of Delilah and Beckham running through my head when Mom calls.
“Hey, is everything okay?” She doesn’t normally call this late unless something’s happened.
“You could say that. I just got a call from a very upset Delilah.” She continues to talk, but I don’t hear her. What could Delilah be upset about?
When I finally tune back in the last word I hear is shelter.
“I’m sorry you’re going to have to repeat that. Why’d she call you?” Why hadn’t Delilah called me? It’s then I realize she doesn’t have my number, making it impossible for her.
“Did you know she and her son are staying at the women’s shelter?”
“No,” I draw out the word thinking of the apartment building I dropped her off at twenty minutes ago.
“Well, I guess that’s where she’s staying. It was difficult to understand some of what she was saying between bouts of crying. I told her I’d come pick them up, but I thought—”
“I’m on my way,” I interrupt while backing out of my driveway.
“That’s what I thought. While I don’t expect a full report tonight, I do expect one the first chance you get. Why would she lie about where she’s staying?”
“Would you want anyone to know you were staying there?”
Delilah has been pretty cagey about answering questions and now things are starting to make a little more sense, but there are still plenty of things that don’t add up, and sooner or later, I’m going to get her to open up to me. Even if it’s the last thing I do.
“Are they okay besides being locked out?” I ask as I start to speed down the road that leads from my house.
My house is tucked away from the town and private. Just the way I wanted it after I moved back to my hometown. The last thing I wanted was to have neighbors stopping by whenever they felt like it to shoot the shit with me.
“I think so. They’re probably just tired. Can you text me after you drop them off—”
Again, I interrupt her. “I’m bringing them back to my place. I’ll text you once I know they’re asleep. How does that sound?”
“That’s what I thought.” I hear the smile in her voice.
While it took me twenty minutes to get to my house from where Delilah had me drop them off, it only takes me ten to pull up outside the shelter. My teeth grind together as I hop out of my truck and walk over to where Delilah is sitting on the curb with her son on her lap.
“Max, what are you doing here?” She starts to stand with Beckham in her arms and I catch her elbow to help bring her to stand the last few inches.
“My mom called me and told me you called her upset about being locked out of the shelter, which is strange since I dropped you off at an apartment building a mile back. Do you want to tell me why you lied to me?”
Her blue eyes flare, but her voice is hushed when she speaks. “Can we talk about this later? I would really appreciate it if you could take us to the nearest hotel.”
There’s no way in hell I’m taking her to a hotel, but she doesn’t need to know that. Instead, I nod and take Beckham from her and place him in the backseat of my truck. We’re silent as I pull out of the parking lot. It’s taking everything in me not to yell at her and then question her about why she’s staying at the battered women’s shelter. Now the split lip and bruising make more sense.
When we’re on the long road heading to my house, she breaks the silence. “Where are you taking us?”
“I’m not taking you to a hotel, Delilah. Tonight, you and your son are staying with me. Tomorrow we’ll talk about your living situation.”
“You’re not the boss of me. What’s stopping me from calling an Uber and leaving the moment you fall asleep?” she whisper-yells.
Leaning over, I keep my eyes on the road, but direct my voice so only she can hear. “How about the tired little boy in the backseat of my truck? Don’t you think he deserves a good night's sleep? He’s not going to get that if you keep shuffling him around all night.”
Her blue eyes turn glassy as she stares straight ahead without answering me, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap.
I expect some sort of reaction from her when she sees my house but get nothing. After living in an apartment in New York for most of my adult life, I wanted a place where I could spread out and when I found this house for sale, I knew it was the house for me. It’s too big for one person, but I’ve always hoped I’d find ‘the one’ like my father and we’d have kids to fill it up. Never did I think the first person spending the night would be one of the baseball moms and her son.
Delilah jumps from the truck the moment I put it into park and starts for the back door to get Beckham out, but I stop her with a hand to her shoulder. “I’ll get him and take him to one of the spare bedrooms.”
“You don’t need to do that. I’m fully capable of carrying my own son.”
“I know you are, but I also know it’s a whole lot easier for me to lift and carry him than you. Let me do this.” I can’t believe she’s fighting me on this. She looks exhausted.
I hear Delilah continually huff as she follows behind me through the kitchen, living area, and then up the stairs. I pick the first door on the right to place Beckham in. It has a Jack and Jill bathroom they can share.
Delilah shuffles past me and pulls down the comforter and sheet, so I can lay her son down. I let her do what she needs to do and move to stand by the door. Carefully she pulls off his tennis shoes and socks and then pulls the covers up to his shoulders before she sweeps his hair off his forehead and places a gentle kiss there. She walks backwards, keeping her eyes on her son until she’s only a couple of feet away from me. As if she can feel my proximity, Delilah turns on her heel and stares me down.
Not wanting our time to be over, I start to head downstairs. I look over my shoulder halfway down to make sure she’s following me. I wouldn’t put it past her to climb into bed with her son just to be difficult. I find her staring daggers into the back of my skull, and I can’t help but smirk. She’s even more gorgeous when she’s mad. There’s something about the fire in her eyes that has my cock twitching.
The second we hit the living area, Delilah rounds on me and puts her finger to my chest. “I will not have another man tell me what I can and cannot do with my child. You don’t know him or what’s best for him.”
“I never said I did, but even an idiot could see how tired he was. He was about ready to pass out when I dropped you off and he was asleep on you when I picked up back up. Tell me, did he walk the mile to the shelter?”
Her eyes turn to slits. “Of course, not. What kind of mother do you take me for?”
“One that lies. I don’t know why you didn’t tell me you were staying at the shelter. I would have happily dropped you off there.”
“And then you would have asked questions. Questions I don’t want to answer. Questions I can’t answer,” she yells, but then covers her mouth and looks up the stairs.
“I’m not going to press you for answers tonight, but tomorrow you need to start telling me some truths. And if you think about trying to leave in the middle of the night, you better forget about it. The alarm will be set and if you so much as try to leave it will go off.”
Her hands go to her curvy hips. “So, we’re prisoners in your house?”
“If that’s the way you want to think about it to make you feel better, then yes, you’re my prisoner for the night. I’m probably the nicest jailer you’ll ever meet. I only want what’s best for you and your son.”
“Why?” she whispers as a lone tear streaks down her cheek.
Only I can’t answer her question because I haven’t figured out why I brought them to my house.