Page 88 of Delilah Green Doesn't Care

Except Claire didn’t want that.

She couldn’t.

This wasDelilah Green, her best friend’s stepsister who took off on her family twelve years ago and barely looked back, and Claire knew too well what it was like to love someone who couldn’t stay. Who wouldn’t stay.

Only... after listening to Delilah talk about Astrid last night, how she and Astrid weren’t complicated at all, how Astrid and Isabel simply hadn’t wanted her... something about it rang true. Not thatshe blamed Astrid for it. She’d already lost her own father, then a stepfather, and Isabel wasn’t the kind of mother who doled out love easily. Delilahwasstrange as a girl, cold and distant, but she’d lost both parents by the time she was ten years old.

Wouldn’t that make anyone strange and cold and distant?

And now, as an adult, Delilah was anything but. A little rough around the edges, sure. Prickly. But something about her made Claire’s blood hum, apart from the amazing sex, even if they were just talking. Delilah was brilliant and funny and strong, and Claire wanted to wrap herself around her, soak her up, help fill that haunted look in the other woman’s eyes with something soft and gentle.

Claire rubbed her eyes under her glasses, trying to press back all of these damnfeelings. She had always wanted to be one of those people who could sleep with someone and let it be just that—sex, feeling, skin. She knew it wasn’t a bad thing that she’d never been like that—she’d had a kid young, and there had always been too much at stake or simply not enough time in the day, but it always sounded so fun, hearing about Iris’s exploits in her early twenties. Even Astrid had had a few one-night stands, and those were only the ones she’d told Iris and Claire about.

You’re just not wired for casual, and that’s okay.

Iris’s words from that night at Stella’s rang through her skull, but she ignored them. She could be wired any way she pleased, and right now, what pleased her was Delilah in her bed. She straightened her clothes and rolled her shoulders back, determined to play it cool with Delilah from now on.

Sex, she told herself.Just think about sex.

“What are you doing?” Iris asked, frowning at her as she stepped out from behind Josh and Ruby’s tent.

“Oh. Um, just looking for a water bottle I can use,” she said, making a show of glancing around. “Josh usually brings a million.”

“Yes, exceptyourwater bottle is with your backpack,” Iris said, pointing to Claire’s pack leaning against their tent, a purple Nalgene hooked onto one of the straps.

“Right,” Claire said and left it at that. She grabbed the bottle and took a long pull of the now lukewarm water.

“All right, let’s hit it,” Spencer called, clapping his hands like they were cattle. Then he smacked Astrid on the butt when she started toward the trailhead. He grinned at her, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Claire watched, teeth gritted, as Astrid kissed him back. But her best friend wasn’t smiling. And her arms seemed stiff around Spencer’s shoulders while his hands roamed down her backside. She wasn’t enjoying this, not in the least, but then again Astrid had never been one for PDA. Where most mothers teach basic manners, Isabel had hammered propriety into her daughter like a nail through wood.

“Is it too much to ask for a large rock to just, I don’t know, fall on his head?” Iris asked as she tied up her hiking boots.

“If only we were the praying kind,” Claire said.

“I’d be willing to convert if it got that shit hat out of our lives.”

“Now he’s a shit hat?”

“He’s a shit-all-types-of-clothing. Shirt. Belt. Jacket.”

“Shit shirt has a nice ring to it.”

“It really does.”

Claire laughed, but her eyes trailed over to Delilah without her permission. The other woman was sitting on the picnic table, scrolling through her phone. Claire forced her gaze away.

“Ready?” Astrid called, pulling back from Spencer.

“Yep,” Iris said, linking her arm with Claire’s and squeezing her tightly. Together they walked over to the trailhead, but when they arrived, Delilah still hadn’t moved from the picnic table.

“Are you coming, Del?” Astrid asked.

Delilah glanced up, a bored expression in her eyes. “Nah. Looks like it might rain.”

“It’s the Pacific Northwest,” Spencer said. “It always looks like it might rain.”

“Oh my god, you’re so right.” Delilah looked around at the trees, wide-eyed, her voice saccharine. “I almost forgot what part of the country I was in. Thank you so much.”