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One glance over my shoulder and I almost freeze in place, but that would look suspicious. So, I blink and paint a mischievous smile on my face.

“You can see me?”

The corny joke gifts me with the stranger’s face contorting into a frown.

“You should see your face,” I tease, pushing to my feet.

Speaking of his face, it’s a beautiful thing.

Twilight backlights his dark skin and nearly robs me of my next breath.

“Relax, I’m not a ghost.” I wipe my hands on my skirt. “Not yet at least.”

Trying to speed past his small talk about my father and whether I live out here, I steer the conversation to what I want to talk about.

He’s the first adult I’ve talked to besides my brother in so long, my words pour out of me, unchecked.

We dance around to so many topics, I can’t remember what we’re talking about when I come up for air, but the man in front of me laughs lowly and pushes that worry to the back of my mind.

The sound is rough and raspy. Husky. Like he’s unlocked some part of his voice box he’s never used before.

My instant fascination is enough to make me forget I’m standing in a graveyard. This man towering over me is a lot of things.

Tall.

Serious.

Clad in all black with his locs cascading over one broad shoulder.

I want to ask him who he is and what he does until the darkness shrouding us registers. It’s not twilight anymore, it’snight. And I’m more than five miles from my house.

“Fuck. What time is it?” I ask the stranger.

“8:45.”

Shit.

I cross my arms and the bills and paper in my bra scratch my skin, reminding me of the only goal I have right now. “Can I have a hundred dollars?” I ask on a whim, keeping my face neutral.

The worst he can say is no. And he does.

At least I tried.

When I wave goodbye, there’s a flicker of hesitation on his face as if he’s not ready for me to go. I don’t allow myself to think about it as I walk away and climb the gate.

I need to get home before Weston shows up from one of his benders and asks me questions I don’t want to answer.

Chapter 43

Tired

DELILAH

PRESENT DAY

Twenty-six is too young to be this tired.

I knew I should have stayed in bed when my head felt like it was one sneeze from splitting open. At the same time, I can appreciate the bullshit for unlocking a new memory.