Blind Love (Sulfur Heights Series) (29 page)

I’m not sure where I will sleep now that she’s here. We’ve shared a bed on many occasions, but I was drunk most of those times. Now, I don’t know if I can lie next to her and not want to hold her, kiss her, or more. Jeremy’s
room is full of crap since he never stays in there and I’m not going to even attempt to tackle that mess. He never sleeps at home anyway, and when he does, it’s on the couch in the garage.

I set her down on the bed and tell her I will be back. As quickly as possible
,I go back into the rain grab her suitcase and purse then carry her belongings to my room. When I round the corner, Delilah is standin
g—
all rain-soaked and sex
y—
in front of my dresser, holding her Christmas gift to me—the picture frame with the snapshot we took at the lake.

That first summer
, and what I thought was going to be her last night, in Sulfur Heights. I remember how uneasy I felt thinking I wouldn’t see her again, and two years later, she’s still in my life. However, in the last thirty minutes, my feelings toward her have jumped to a whole other level. A level that is unexplored, scary, and could be full of the rejection that might break me if she were to ever tell me she simply doesn’t feel the same.

Tears
are still holding in her eyes when she connects them with mine. “This was probably the best night of my life.” She puts the frame back down on the dresser. “I’ve never had so much fun.”

I nod in agreement. “Me
, too.”

Delilah

My world has come to a crashing halt in the last several hours. I’ve learned my best friend
has been murdered at the hands of a jealous, obsessive man. Presley has been murdered
. Killed. Executed. Assassinated
. The words float around and around and around as I desperately try to gain a grasp of how this could have happened.

She was an amazing friend, who’s had many obstacles to overcome and was finally able to
accept who she was in life. Then, from a flash of nowhere, that life was ripped away from her.

It all seems impossible
, like I should be watching a movie instead of feeling the dread and sorrow in my heart.

Then to think Drake, Reggie, Darcie, Jake and Jeremy
have had to witness her murder, an image that will surely haunt them for the remainder of their lives. Even though they live in a place where violence is ignored, witnessing this is tragic and frightening. The toughest person would never forget.

A small twinge of pride comes to me when I
think about the fact that Presley hasn’t died because she succumbed to her addiction. She died to save a life. Fat tears roll down my cheeks again when I think of her heroism. She sacrificed herself to save the man she loved.

I pick up the picture I gave Jake for a Christmas gift and smile. That
may have been a fun night, however it completely changed my view of Jake Evans. Although his exterior is rough, crude and obnoxious, I know there is so much more hidden away deep inside. I vowed to myself I would really get to know him. Fast forward two years, and we’ve had our ups and downs, but I wouldn’t change a single moment of our friendship.

Now that Presley is gone, he is the only other person who truly knows the real Delilah. The Delilah I’m not allowed to unleash because it would be inappropriate and go against everything I
’ve been raised to believe. In all honesty, I don’t think Presley really knew the real me; the me that Jake unearthed with his crazy stunts and ability to see right through my façade.

The entire fourteen hour trip to Sulfur Heights I was thinking about what my mother
had said. That it was time to finally say goodbye to Presley and all my new friends.

As much as it pains me to leave them behind, I know she’s right. I have an obligation to marry Emerson
. He’s been devoted to me from the day we’ve met and I need to be the woman he deserves. I need to be the wife he expects.

My daddy taught me St. James’
s never break their obligations once they’ve agreed; I would only be disgracing myself and be an embarrassment to our family name. I don’t know how I will do it, but I have to say good-bye to all of them. I’m prepared for everyone’s anger toward me, but I don’t think I will ever be prepared enough to let go of Jake. I do love him. He’s been the one person I can be with that I don’t have to be someone else around; I can be me.

I’ve never allowed myself to have these thoughts of Jake
—allowed myself to feel anything other than friendship toward him—but now the end is near and my heart is taking over my well trained mind. I’m afraid of what I might do. Of what I might truly feel toward Jake. It’s so scary and I have to keep my head. However, my heart is aching and Jake is the only person who can take that pain away.

Jake and I have crossed the boundaries of being friends. We’ve shared a bed a few times because he was too drunk to find his own and the kiss in Las Vegas
, which I’ve chalked up to being drunk for the first time and high on adrenaline from my impromptu dance on the stage. That has to be why I took the stupid bet. Sure, it was an amazing kiss and Jake definitely won my fifty dollars, but I have yet to admit that. That would mean he’s better than Emerson and my mind won’t accept that. Emerson is my future. Not Jake.

The sound of Jake dragging in my suitcase cuts off any other thoughts and I quickly distract myself by talking about the picture in my hand. He’s been staring at me since he walked back into his bedroom and I can’t help but meet his gaze. The indescribable look to his eyes
… they’re not looking at me like they always do with a coy, slightly arrogant gleam. Now his eyes are searching mine as he looks at me. What he’s searching for, though, I don’t know.

I lean down and unzip my suitcase. I
’ve been afraid that all of my clothes would be soaking wet since we were standing in the rain for so long, however to my surprise, they’re still dry. I pull out a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt then turn to the corner to change my clothes, looking at him over my shoulder.

Jake suddenly snaps out of his trance and turns toward his dresser, pulling out a clean pair of jeans. “I will leave
to let you to get dressed,” he says as he walks from the room, pulling the door closed.

I take a minute to get my bearings. I’ve been in Jake’s room many times, but this is the first time I’ve actually looked around at this uniquely charming guy’s room. Normally, it’s too dark to see anything—remembering the nights I
’ve had to drag his intoxicated butt to bed. Or the morning I was first in his room and I was too distracted by his morning salute to notice anything else.

It’s a large space
with a huge, king-sized bed in the middle, a large dresser adjacent to the bed and posters of old cars covering every blank surface of the wall. There are no naked ladies posters or beer ads, not even a stolen street sign. Everything is minimal and tidy, neatly put in its perfect place.

I quickly change into dry clothes and look at the heap of wrinkled clothes in my suitcase. Pulling them out, I snap them in the air in
an attempt to get the wrinkles out as best as possible and move to the closet in hopes to find some empty hangers and space to hang my stuff. When I open the door, pictures of his family cover the surface of the door. Dozens of pictures are collaged on the wood, taking me down a happy memory lane.

This brings a smile to my face as I look at childhood pictures of Jeremy and Jake working on the car with Reggie standing over them, and little Drake looking up to his brothers with pride in his eyes. As well as pictures of Darcie when she was younger, during Christmas, all of them together around a decorated tree. Mia
is also covering the inside of the closet door. Many snapshots are of her when we spent the month taking care of her before Presley overdosed and went to rehab.

My favorite is the picture of Mia at her birthday
. She’s tucked in her daddy’s arms with her mommy on the other side. Both Drake and Presley are looking adoringly at their baby girl and her face is covered in cake. More tears fall down my cheeks when I think how this little girl will never know how wonderful her mama was. How much she really loved her. I wipe the loose tears with the back of my hand, taking in large breaths to contain the onslaught of sobbing that is sure to follow.

I
turn my attention back to the closet door. Within the collage are pictures of me and Jake taken the first summer I spent in Sulfur Heights. One in particular I hate. The sheer terror written all over my face when Jake took me drag racing the first time. He must have snapped a picture when we did the turn around because my eyes are shut tight and I look hideously scared. Of course the pictures in Las Vegas with all of us are present as well. Man, it was a fun night. Other than the lake, it’s probably one of the best nights of my life.

A knock on the door takes my attention away from the pictures as Jake slowly walks in the room, changed and only wearing a pair of jeans. The tattoos covering his arms and chest dance with every movement of his body. I bit
e my lip obliviously as I study his every move and really look at how sexy his body is. My face flushes, and I immediately snap my eyes to somewhere else on his body and focus on the newest tattoo on his upper right ar
m—
the 1950’s pinup girl with my body and face struck in a classically seductive pose.

When he gets closer
, I can’t help but touch it. My fingers linger over his colorful skin and it’s causing my heart to race, accelerating at a rapid speed. His eyes follow my fingers, but his face is unreadable. I quickly retract my fingers, tucking them under my arms as I fold them across my chest.

“I still can’t believe you did that
,” I say, trying to distract myself from the intense feeling thriving inside me after I touched his skin.

“When
you sent me that picture, it was fate that you were dressed like that and I knew it was exactly what I needed to complete my sleeve.” Jake rubs his arm, lost in thought and looking like he wants to tell me something.

I turn my attention back to the door when I notice a picture of a woman located in the bottom of the collage. She looks young
; her brown hair is brushing her shoulders and her deep, brown eyes look familiar. I move closer to the picture and really look at the woman’s eyes and recognize them immediately. Those are Jake’s eyes.

“Is this your mother?” I ask
, craning my neck so I can see his face.

He rubs his hand over the top of his short brown hair and releases a deep breath. “Yeah.”

She was very beautiful. Nothing like I’ve pictured. Her face does not have the signs a typical drug-addicted person would have; she appears put together and happy. Jake doesn’t talk much about her and I know by the sound of his voice and distance in his eyes that this was once a woman he loved, but all of it was destroyed somehow.

“Well
, she’s very pretty.”

“Yeah, she was. This was taken before I was born, when she
’d just had Reggie and his dad was still in her life.” His voice is quiet and laced with slight resentment. I knew he and his mother had a tumultuous relationship, but the details as to why… I’m still left in the dark.

“What happened with your mother, Jake?”

He pulls the shirt out of my hand and grabs an empty hanger from the rod. “I don’t think this is the time to hear about my fucked up childhood.” Then he pulls another shirt from my suitcase and drapes it over the hanger, and with that, Jake and I finish hanging my clothes in the closet, not speaking a word to each other. I stand in a comfortable silence only Jake can bring to my life as I allow a small sentiment of peace to trickle back into my aching heart.

Chapter 21

Jake

I cringe the moment Delilah
recognizes the picture of my mother, knowing her curious nature will start asking me questions about my past, and then the floodgates of hell will surely open up. I hate talking about my mother. It’s a subject I’m not prepared to ever discuss with anyone. The true feelings I have toward my mother, maybe someday Delilah will be privileged enough to know, but then again, maybe she won’t.

My mind seems to make plans,
yet my mouth can never keep shut when she’s around, and sooner or later she will wear me down. She always does.

“Reggie’s made an appointment at the funeral home this afternoon. I think we’re supposed to be there around four. Did you want to come?” Tears bubble up in her eyes
, making them truly look like I’m staring at the crystal-blue ocean. She only nods in agreement as a few drops of water leak from her eyes.

It’s nearing early afternoon and the exhaustion of the last day is finally settling in. I look
in Delilah’s eyes and they mirror mine—swollen and tired. She still looks as beautiful as the day I met her; her blonde hair is flowing down her back, the faint smell of lavender lingers from her hair and her sun-kissed skin is glowing in the light.

I can’t help myself
. Crossing the short distance of my room, I wrap my arms around her and tuck her securely into my body, holding her. She instantly falls in close, linking her arms around my waist and releasing a deep sigh of contentment. A few tears fall onto my chest as the skin of her cheek presses against the skin of my chest. I love her here. She’s wrapped protectively in my arms and my soul fills with its own contentment, knowing this is where she belongs; this is where Delilah needs to be.