Page 18 of Deliah

F eeling completely shattered, I just kept going.

I don’t know how—I’d wake up, slap some makeup on, and show up for work like nothing was breaking beneath the surface.

It was autopilot at this point. Smile, seduce, dance, drink, repeat.

A few weeks had passed since the whole Woody ordeal.

I’d barely spoken about it. Cherry knew something was up, but she didn’t push. We both had our own drama brewing.

It had been a few months. And somewhere along the line, the ache started to dull.

I wasn’t over him—not even close—but the constant nausea had faded into background noise.

I thought about him less and laughed more.

I could go whole hours without checking my phone.

Cherry and I had fallen into a rhythm—days off spent wandering the city, window shopping, sipping iced coffees, laughing at terrible tourist tattoos.

She’d try on outfits she couldn’t afford, and I’d tell her she looked like a trophy wife.

She’d flip her hair and wink. “Manifest it, babe.” She’d started telling me more about Tommy, too—how he’d take her to fancy restaurants out in the hills where no one would see them.

How he’d pick her up in that sleek black Porsche and make her feel like she was in a music video.

He wasn’t pushy. He was patient. Sweet but also full of banter.

And somehow, she was falling for him. She still hadn’t been caught.

She was living on the edge, and I loved it for her.

Loved hearing her stories, her late-night giggles, the way her face softened when she read a new message from him.

It gave me hope. Maybe love didn’t always have to be toxic.

And then—of course—he came back. Jay. Like he could sense it.

He waited until the moment I started to feel okay.

Until my smile reached my eyes again. Until I believed, just for a second, that I might be over him.

I was sitting in the staff room before shift, my body aching, my brain fogged, mascara flaking under my eyes.

Same padded stool, same tired buzz of music behind the walls, same fake energy coursing through my limbs.

I scrolled through my phone, not even registering what I was looking at, until it lit up with his name.

Jay: Deliah, I’m sorry. I’ve been such a dick. I know I should’ve done better. I love you. I miss you. Can we talk?

I froze. It was like someone had reached inside my chest and ripped out every bit of progress I’d made.

My stomach dropped. My throat tightened.

My heart betrayed me—beat faster, harder, louder.

He didn’t know what I’d been through. But somehow, it was like he knew when I was about to let go.

And that was when he’d crawl back in—like a virus.

My fingers hovered over the screen. He said he loved me.

He missed me. Maybe… maybe he meant it this time.

And then, like a complete idiot, I replied:

Me: Are you fucking joking, Jay? You haven’t spoken to me for months, you have been out fucking half the island, and now you want to talk to me?

Jay: I know I fucked up, I fucked up bad, but I really miss you, babe. Please can we just talk?

So I agreed. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

That night, he came over. He looked the same—scruffy hair, stupid grin, cocky confidence—but his eyes were softer.

Like he’d been hit by a ghost. Like I was the ghost. The second the door shut behind him, it was like no time had passed.

He stood there, staring at me like I was the answer to a question he didn’t know he’d been asking.

“I fucked up,” he said, voice low. “I’ve been lost without you.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I know I hurt you. I know I fucked it. But I’ve not stopped thinking about you—not for a second. I tried to move on. I couldn’t. No one makes me feel the way you do.” He stepped forward, took my face in his hands. “I love you, Deliah.”

I should’ve screamed at him. Thrown something.

Told him to fuck off forever. But I didn’t.

Because my body betrayed me. My heart cracked wide open and let him waltz straight back in.

The next thing I knew, his mouth was on mine.

And I let him. The sex was instant—like our bodies had been waiting for this moment, starving for it.

We couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t breathe between kisses.

Couldn’t speak between moans. He shoved me up against the wall like old times.

Tore my clothes off like they were in his way.

Lifted me onto the bed and spread my legs like it was his right.

“You’ve got no idea how much I’ve missed you, baby,” he whispered against my throat.

I hated him. But I wanted him. I wanted him so bad I could barely think. Every kiss was a memory I’d been trying to forget. Every thrust, an apology. He was trying to make me forget with his body. And I let him.

“Tell me you missed me,” he demanded, thrusting hard.

I didn’t answer.

So, he did it again—deeper, rougher. “Tell me, Deliah.”

And I did. “I missed you.”

Because I had. Fuck, I had. But as I lay on my back, him kissing my chest, licking every inch of my skin like he was starved, a different feeling settled in.

Shame. It crept in like smoke—soft and choking.

I wrapped my legs around him tighter, not because it felt good but because I thought maybe if he stayed inside me long enough, all the pain would disappear.

Maybe I could fuck the heartbreak out of me.

But it didn’t work. I stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving, eyes wet, hating him for leaving me.

Hating myself more for letting him back in.

And yet—still moaning. Still shaking under his hands.

Still whispering his name like a spell I couldn’t break.

When it was over, I didn’t feel healed. I felt used.

Worse—I felt grateful to be used. He curled up behind me, hand on my waist, breathing steady.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again, lips brushing the back of my neck.

But I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because the worst part? I’d do it again. And I knew—I knew—that this wasn’t the end of it. The end of us.

The next day, I was sitting in the club, and he texted me.

I should’ve known. The second I saw his name light up on my phone, I should’ve deleted the message, blocked his number, and gone home to bed.

But I didn’t. Because when it comes to Jay, logic never stood a chance.

He showed up at my door that night like nothing had ever gone wrong—same eyes, same smirk, same addictive energy that pulled me in every time, no matter how much it hurt.

The second I opened the door, he grabbed me, wrapping his arms around me like he hadn’t breathed properly since the last time we touched.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day,” he murmured into my hair. “I’m gutted, Deliah. Gutted with what happened to us.”

My heart thudded in my chest. I wanted to scream at him, tell him how he broke me.

Tell him how I couldn’t even have a shower without crying.

That I’d sat on my balcony after fucking a police officer, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

That I’d hated him, hated myself, hated the way I still loved him after everything.

“I deserve better,” I said quietly. “You broke my fucking heart.”

He looked down at me, guilt in his eyes for once. Or maybe I was just hoping to see it.

“I know,” he whispered. “And I hate myself for it. I was a dick. I was worried. I didn’t know how to deal with someone like you.

You’re… you’re everything, Deliah. I need you.

I’ve been lost without you.” He touched my face.

Gentle. Almost reverent. “I’ll change,” he promised. “I swear. You’re all I want.”

I stared at him, every red flag in my brain waving like a football crowd. But then he smiled. That stupid, cheeky grin that had always been my weakness.

“Bet you missed my dick more than you missed me,” he teased.

I laughed. I didn’t mean to. But I laughed. “Prick.”

Next thing I knew, we were all over each other again. Laughing, clothes hit the floor. Limbs tangled. Mouths met with messy, aching urgency. But this time… it wasn’t rough.

It was soft. Slow. He looked in my eyes the whole time, whispered that he loved me as he moved inside me, and kissed every inch of my skin like he was trying to rewrite the past. Like he thought if he touched me the right way, I’d forget the hurt. And for a second—I did.

After, we lay tangled together, sheets twisted around our legs, our breath syncing, our skin sticking where we touched. I traced the scar on his shoulder with my fingertip, the silence between us surprisingly comfortable.

That was when he said, “By the way… I need a favour.”

I frowned, not quite following.

He sat up slightly, shifting onto one elbow. “I just need to leave something here. Just for a few days. Nothing big. Just a bit of bud.”

My body went cold, and every part of me screamed no. Not again. Not like this. “Weed?”

He nodded. “Cops have been sniffing around the apartment. It’s just till I can shift it. A couple of days, max.”

I stared at him. I’d always known he sold a bit. We’d smoked together plenty—lazy joints and tangled limbs under winter blankets. But this? This wasn’t that. “Are you fucking joking, Jay?” I said, cautious.

“Stop stressing,” he said quickly, brushing a hand down my arm. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of green. I swear, Deliah. If anything ever happened, I’d take the fall. I’d never drag you into shit. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

I hesitated. I should have said no. But love has a way of making your gut feel like the enemy. So I nodded. “Okay. But just for a few days.”

He kissed me again, slow and sweet, and whispered, “You’re the best, baby. I love you.”

And I believed him. Like a fucking idiot—I believed him.

He left the next morning with a grin and a promise. “Text you later, yeah?”

I nodded, watched him disappear down the street, and shut the door behind him with a strange tightness in my chest. Something uneasy. Off. But I told myself, Maybe this time will be different. Maybe love really is enough.

The next day, he texted me again.

Jay: Baby, I’ll come over after work, love you.

Me: Okay, love you.

And there he was again, same warmth, same charm.

We ordered takeaway, laughed like old times, but then he left again.

And this time? Nothing. No good morning text.

No voice note telling me he missed me. No “Babe, I’m busy, but I’m thinking of you.

” Just… silence for days.And a stash of weed in the back of my wardrobe, wrapped in a black hoodie like it wasn’t a fucking problem waiting to happen.

I told Cherry everything. She was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, tying her platform heels when I finally blurted it out. “Jay’s been back.”

She paused mid-lace. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. He’s been over a couple of times.”

She blinked. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck him.”

I bit my lip.

“Deliah…”

“I know.”

She threw the shoe on the floor and stared at me like I’d grown another head.

“How could you fucking go back to him?”

I didn’t even try to defend it.

“I don’t know,” I said, voice cracking. “I love him. Don’t I?”

Cherry sighed. She stood, walked over, and wrapped her arms around me. “You’ll only ever do what you want to do, babe,” she said quietly. “I can’t stop you. No one can. But just know—however this goes, I’ll be here.”

I hugged her tighter than I meant to. And for the first time in days, I cried. Really cried. Because I knew she was right. And I also knew—I was in deeper than I ever meant to be.