Page 40 of Severed Heart (The Ravenhood Legacy #2)

“No, because your lecture is unnecessary , hence the shaking thighs of the girl I just drove home. I know very well how to fuck , Delphine, so I’m covered there.

Sorry your date didn’t work out as well,” I grit out.

“And as far as your advice, I’m all ears for it whenever Smirnoff isn’t the one helping to cultivate it.

Nor am I willing to tune into it when you’ve got a warped sense that I’m the enemy and a cruel, calculating fucking look in your eyes for me that we both know I don’t deserve. So yeah, tonight, I’m going to pass.”

When her lips part in clear surprise, a sick satisfaction thrums through me that I got any reaction from her at all.

“Sorry,” I draw out dryly, my tone anything but apologetic, “I’m utilizing my mask a little less these days, General. Advice of yours I chose to take because I’ve aged into playing the fucking adult game now.” I shake my head, speaking on exhale. “The fuck am I doing?”

Knowing better than to argue with alcohol, I bite out my parting words. “Take care. I guess I’ll see you around.”

She bites her lip and nods as I turn and stride toward her bedroom door. I’m a step outside of it when I hear her whispered confession.

“I miss fishin’ buddy very much.”

Freezing, I turn back to see the release of a tiny tear and go utterly still at the sight of it.

She stares back at me in shock that I heard her barely audible confession as the ice around my heart instantly melts at her acknowledgment.

The rest of it sliding off as I watch the tear I know belongs to me trailing down her cheek.

A tear that has me stepping back toward her bed in demand of an explanation.

When she sees my intent, her mouth opens and closes but I shake my head in warning, refuting her any ability to try and backtrack.

“You miss me?” I ask, point-blank, holding her gaze in demand of an answer. But it’s the defeated look in her eyes that speaks volumes before her lips finally part.

“Oui,” she whispers, “I miss you very much. You were my only friend.”

“Then why in the fuck did you push me away?”

She bites her lip, and her eyes drop.

“Okay, we both know why, and I’ll own that I behaved badly and probably acted exactly like you expected I would.

That’s on me. And trust me, I regret it.

But I have always respected your boundaries, and you all but slammed the door in my face.

So the way I see it, we’re both assholes.

But right now, you’re being the bigger one. ”

“I am sorry, Soldier,” she whispers. “You are right. I have no business giving advice.” She nods.

“I was a fucking fool to try to go on a date. Merci. Thank you for coming to help me, again .” Her lips shake with her delivery.

“Just forgive me and go.” She nods toward the door.

“You do not deserve this. My contempt, it’s not for you. It’s for me.”

My heart fucking stutters as she waves me away. Again.

“Please, Tyler,” she urges, “go, I am fine. I will be fine.”

Refusing her order, I remain standing at her bedside, positive she’s used to people dismissing her after she shoots her venom—leaving her in the state she’s in.

But what if, and maybe for the first time, someone stayed?

Someone remained there to witness what happens after.

Knowing I’m stepping on a landmine, I keep my footing steady.

“Or ... you can cut the shit, stop tap dancing around the truth, realize I’m here for you and fucking talk to me.” I double down by kneeling at her bedside. “Talk to me, damn it. Tell me why you’re so upset. If it’s not the asshole who just left, then what is it?”

“Tyler, this is not for you to deal with ... or to decipher.”

“The fuck it’s not. You just said I’m your only friend, and I still want to be. I care very much about you, so let me in.”

She stares at me for long seconds before her eyes drop to the letters flowing out of her cigar box. Her features pinch in anger as she grabs a fist full of them into her palm.

“This, this .” She lifts the clenched paper eye level. “This is proof enough that ‘ love the fucking liar’ can make a fool of you. Make you weak, pathetic.”

“So what is it about those letters that haunts you so much?” I ask, my investment in her pain obvious in my tone. “Is it regret?”

She takes another drag of her cigarette, considering me as she lowers the letters, the anger fog dispersing as she slowly exhales her answer. “So much regret, Tyler. So much.”

“For?”

She bites her lip, her eyes blurring. “For trusting men who made me believe their own ideas of themselves and punishing me for reminding them of who they told me they were. For letting them punish me.”

“And you can’t come back from that?”

“Look at me,” she challenges.

“I am,” I state with an edge in her defense.

“I am what failure looks like,” she admits hoarsely.

“Not to me,” I whisper back, unable to help my question, eyeing the letters as a few heartbeats pass. “Delphine, what happened with your ex-husband?”

She pauses for a long moment, and for a few of those tense seconds, I think she won’t answer before she finally speaks. “I woke one day, and poof, he was gone . . .” Her eyes cloud. “As if he never existed.”

I frown, knowing that can’t be the whole truth of it.

“You don’t know where he went?”

“I don’t know anything .” She shakes her head in frustration.

“My fucking mind is a battlefield. Every day I wake up at war with it, fighting this fucking haze I cannot escape, and I do not remember any of it!” she croaks as she lowers her eyes and the letters on her lap.

“Pieces, tiny, tiny pieces, but never a clear memory anymore, and I read . . .” She releases an anguished sob, and my heart flinches at the sound.

“I read these fucking letters so many times, but the haze will not clear to let me understand what happened to me. To understand where the Delphine who came to America went and why. I spend so much time trying to remember, Tyler. So much time in the fucking bath, in the battle, and fail every time.” She cries openly now, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“And I hate her,” she sniffs, her voice filled with venom, “the pathetic girl who wrote these letters. I despise her. I want to erase her from existence because the girl cannot be me! I don’t understand her.

” She voices my own questions aloud, seemingly having no idea of the answer.

“I cannot forgive her. I refuse to forgive her.” Her jaw shakes as her eyes turn murderous.

“Every day, I fight to be nothing like her, to never again be deceived by ‘ love the fucking liar.’ Being a brash bitch is better. Anything is better than that fool.” She nods toward the letters.

“But even she fucks up her life and has become a failure.”

Pushing the scattered papers off her lap, she sinks into bed. Head resting on her pillow, she turns toward me as my hands twitch to grab her—to pull her into me and shield her from herself, from her own abuse.

Instead, I slowly lift my hand to palm her crown, gently sweeping my thumb along her hairline as she levels me with the despair in her voice.

“The truth of what happened to me, to my husband, died with Celine and Beau in that fire, and maybe ... I died with them because I feel like a ghost to myself now.” Her breath stutters as she bares herself to me, gutting me.

“I am so tired of losing,” she whispers hoarsely, “of failing. So very tired, Tyler.”

“You’re not losing, Delphine,” I whisper back.

She shakes her head to rebuke my words as I press in.

“I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.” Sliding my hand down, I cradle her face, tucking my fingers between her cheek and her pillow, running my thumb along her jaw.

“I heard you. I swear to God I heard every word you just said, and now I want you to listen to me,” I urge. “For once, I want you to listen to me and try to take my words to heart. Will you try that for me?”

She nods, her eyes focused on me, no longer searching.

“All today was, was just another bad day. Nothing more. So don’t give it any more power than that.

The sunset you love so much is proof you fought bravely, so keep remembering that on your bad days .

.. and remember that when the clock ticks past midnight, it’s another chance to win.

I’ve seen you on good days, and you have them.

It’s just that days like today are good at making you forget them.

But you have them. I’ve been there. I’ve seen them.

I’ve seen the bold, vibrant, life-filled, beautiful woman on days she’s won that battle.

So, don’t believe the lie a bad day is telling you.

And truth be told, you’re winning every day you show up.

” I press in. “Fighting for yourself will never be failing.”

I continue to run my thumb gently over her cheek as her breathing evens out, and her chest bounces slightly in the aftermath. “Do you want to tell me why you went on a date tonight?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers. “Many reasons.”

A notion comes to me, but I bite the question away and ask another, keeping my thumb running lightly over her skin in a soothing motion as she further sinks into it, her eyes softening as her lids lower.

“Swear to me he didn’t hurt you,” I implore her.

“Non,” she whispers, “non, I scared him.” She laughs without humor.

“Well, you don’t scare me,” I whisper, stilling my palm on her cheek.

“So, do you want to have one of those good days with me when you open your eyes, General? Because I miss my fishin’ buddy and best friend too,” I admit, praying it doesn’t cost me but unable to hold it in any longer. “I miss her so fucking much.”

Behind her fresh tears, I see a sliver of hope just before she nods, the fire in my chest going inferno because I know I’ve kept her trust.