Page 62

Despite the hour,Alonzo responds in seconds.

Alonzo: Yeah, three

Me: The fuck? Why didn’t you lead with that?

Alonzo: Didn’t think it mattered. Your houseguest handled them all

I pause outside her door.

Me: What does that mean?

Alonzo: I’ll clip the files and send them to you later today

Me: Aight

It’s not reliefthat washes over me as I walk to my room, but something close. If her father wasn’t already in the ground, I’d work this stress out on him, cutting every finger off his hands and feeding them to him before I put a bullet between his eyes.

Since I can’t do that, I hop in the shower and letthe water wash away the visuals of what he did. I clean until I empty everything in my head and the only thing left is the way Delilah looked in that dress this morning and the way she fell asleep on my shoulder.

Without thinking, I grab the bottle of strawberry body wash and pump some into my hand…

Part Two

Atonement

Chapter 23

The Favor

DELILAH

The pillow pressed against my cheek is too soft to be Adonis’ arm. But the last thing I remember is the way his bicep cradled my face and the music flowing from his fingertips that eventually lulled me back to sleep.

He must have carried me up here and the realization scorches my skin more than the sun coming in through my windows.

Every morning before I wake up, Ms. Agnes comes into my room to pull back the curtains. She hasn’t missed a day in the four weeks I’ve been here, and I don’t know how she does it without me waking up every time.

Once upon a time, I thought I was a light sleeper. That should be true in this house more than anywhere. But the longer I stay here, the deeper my sleep is. Most mornings I wake up without remembering I fell asleep. I’m convinced Ms. Agnes found a way to infuse melatonin in my sheets.

Last night, the only reason I was up was because of the nightmare that forced me upright at two a.m.

Tangled in torment, I woke with a heave, eyes jumping around the room until I convinced myself I was safe.

Everything about the body on top of me, pressing me into the mattress feltreal. Just like the stale odor of beer on his breath and the scratchy voice speaking directly in my ear.Allof it had felt as sickeningly vivid as the night it happened.

“Open your fucking legs,little sis. I want to see what the fuss is about.”

“Wes, what are you doing?” I try to move, to escape the man double my size, but he catches my wrists and holds them hostage above my head.

“Wes, what are you doing?” he parrots on a snicker, leering at me in the moonlit room.

He’s not even supposed to be here. He was at a party. Or on a date. Something that wasn’t here.

But I woke up when I heard a crash outside my door. The next thing I knew, he was tripping over his feet until he reached the foot of my bed and fell on top of me at a weird angle.

Sudden panic seizes my body at the clink of his belt unbuckling.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s drunk. He probably thinks I’m someone else.