Page 35

“Get out, Ms. Rose.”

Chapter 15

Head Above Water

DELILAH

Stars dance against the backdrop of the navy sky, winking at me through the treetops lining Adonis’ property.

The smell of charcoal finds my nose and the laughter of a family I can’t see graces my ears.

It sounds like a celebration. Smells like one, too.

They must be the neighbors I never see because Adonis has isolated himself on this hill.

But at least I know where that hill is now.

It was easy to figure out because the only graveyard I’ve ever visited is the one my father is buried in.

Still, I don’t remember meeting him and my head hurts enough without the strain of trying to rein in another forgotten memory.

Adonis Samson—CEO of Samson Air and one of the most feared men in Wildwood—ownsme.

That’s enough to make me bang my head against the wall.

But again, I’m in enough pain.

Somehow, three weeks have passed since I “quit” my job.

Every day I wake up with an indescribable ache in my chest and a heaviness that weighs down my limbs.

It’s a loop of despair I didn’t subscribe to, and I just want to feel real again. To know I have control over something.

Toeing my sandals off, I breathe in the night air and gather my skirt in my hands, so I don’t trip over it on my walk along the stone path to the water.

Crickets chirping and the wind rippling through the leaves is my soundtrack as I step into the deep end of the in-ground pool.

It’s the one similarity between my childhood home and Adonis’ I don’t mind.

Whenever things became too much when I was at home, the pool was my only reprieve.

I taught myself how to swim.

How to float.

Countless times, the water soothed my welts and baptized my bruises, making me forget how I got them.

Weston and my father didn’t bother me if I was in the water, so it became my favorite escape. The only scrap of solitude I had. And I clung to it.

Partially submerged in the water, I try to push thoughts of my childhood aside, but I can’t shake the voice of doom in my head.

“Hey, Dad.”Weston looks between me and the only parent I’ve ever known. “Y’all are home early.”

Weston doesn’t address me. A flippant once over is the only acknowledgement I’m worth before his gaze whips back to our father.

His middle school is already out, but I’m still in school for another week before Christmas break.

I’m supposed to be anyway.