Page 23

I pull my hood tighter around my head, so it covers the side of my face as I cut through the greenery surrounding the Leroux property.

Harkin will throw a fit if he finds out I’m here, but I need to speak to her.

She’ll understand and I’ll help her get away with what she’s done so that we’re both free.

Delilah’s home alone, since my parents are drowning in their grief and her parents have decided to feed into the lie that it’s my fault.

A haunting note floats through the house as I let myself in through the large double doors that lead into her piano room.

Though she’s not sitting at the grand piano.

I follow the chords to the black and white checkerboard tiled hallway where she sits in the foyer at the crystal piano that is never to be used.

The transparent casing shows the movement of each string as she plays with her eyes closed.

She isn’t dressed up in her usual attire of a black dress. Instead, she sits in sweats and a long sleeve t-shirt with her hair kept out of her face in a clip at her crown.

There’s never been a sight more beautiful, and I don’t disturb her despite the clock ticking on when her parents will come home. I just watch her, soaking in the peace she can offer.

The composition comes to a slow end, yet she doesn’t lift her fingers from the ivory keys. I step forward and soften my voice to call her. “Delilah.” Her eyes freakishly snap open. “I need to speak to you.”

All the peace disappears as she coldly stands and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re not supposed to speak to me.”

I nod, inching forward with my heart in my throat. “I know, my pretty girl, but I need to.” There’s no softness in her features as I cup her cheek and hold her hip. “We can get through this, but you have to tell them the truth. Tell them that it wasn’t me.”

She stiffens and tilts her head back. “Go home, Kane.”

Moving into her line of sight, I beg, “Please, I’ll lie for you. I’ll say it was an accident, but I can’t fucking go to prison. Please, Delilah.”

There’s no acknowledgment, and I do the only thing I can think of as I sink down to my knees. Holding her hands in both of mine, I press my lips to her knuckles and continue begging her to save me.

“Please. I love you. I still love you, that hasn’t changed. Just help me.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“I can’t go to prison,” I whisper against her palm. “Not for years or my entire life. I’ll have nothing left. That’s what they’re saying I’ll get. Life. Please, pretty girl.”

She slowly thaws, painstakingly fucking slow as she cups my cheek. Her eyes are fast to soften as she finally looks at me—really looks at me without the fake bitch persona taking center stage. “You weren’t there, remember? They won’t be able to charge you.”

Fuck, she hasn’t been told. That’s why she hasn’t helped me.

So, I grip her hands even tighter, begging her with every atom of my being as I tell her, “We turned the cameras off when I fucked you in the outdoor shower, so they didn’t show me leaving.

I’m going to be charged and I need you. I fucking need you to tell them it wasn’t me.

Please, pretty girl. I’ll tell them whatever you want me to so you get away with it.

Just…Just don’t make me take the fall for it. Please.”

“Kane, I—” She snaps her head to the side, staring through the large, patterned glass beside the double front doors. “Leave,” she says coldly, turning back to the coldhearted bitch she uses to protect herself.

Following her line of sight, I watch her parents get out of their car as Delilah turns her back on me and walks up the extravagant staircase with her spine straight and her head high.

“Delilah?” I call out as I slowly get on my feet and the front door opens.

She doesn’t turn around.

Not when I call her name again.

Or when her parents shout for me to leave.

She only stops when she reaches the stop of the staircase and her phone—the one that I’ve been fucking calling without her answering—buzzes and she answers it. She answers whoever is calling her while ignoring me as her mother’s heels click against the marble floor.

Lizbeth looks me up and down like I’m filth, something vile or rotting that needs to be removed and cleansed from her home. Then that wicked snarl full of contempt splits into a laugh. “You never meant anything to her. So the life you took was in vain.”

“I didn’t do anything. She’s the one who killed him.

” I look at her, then Harkin, who freezes in front of the open door.

“Delilah did it, not me. I got back to the lake house after the fire had started, and she was running out of it.” My arms hang at my sides as I look back at the top of the stairs, waiting for her to come running out to prove that she gives a fuck about me. “I didn’t do anything.”