Page 76 of Severed Heart (The Ravenhood Legacy #2)

“Delphine,” I say, jiggling our clasped hands. “I’m coming back every day,” I whisper as her eyes drop. “Look at me,” I order, and her eyes instantly dart to mine. “I’m coming back every day. I sleep here every night .”

“I know,” she nods. “I will throw them away, Soldier. Maybe tomorrow.”

“ Do you know?” I ask. The temptation to cup her face is strong, but I resist it.

I don’t want her to mistake it as intimate, and for me, it would be.

My renewed attraction for her is stifled daily, as I purposely refuse to pick apart or decipher any return looks she grants me for my own wants.

The eighteen-year-old me standing firmly with me in that stance.

“I believe you,” she whispers, tugging at my hand.

Before I get a chance to poke further into her worry, she leads me to the end of the table.

On it sits a thick book, twice the size of a bible—its cover a light, thick blue plastic with no title.

It looks to be filled with laminated pages which are bound together with plastic rings.

A book that looks fit for a presentation and was put together at a place like Kinko’s or Office Depot.

“Are we having some sort of orientation tonight, General?” I joke.

“What?” she asks, her accompanying smile making me feel like an asshole for making one.

“Nothing,” I say, noting she’s nervous even as she speaks up, revealing as much.

“Okay, sit down,” she orders, “or you can stand,” she says, shaking her head. “No, sit down, Tyler,” she says, fondly rolling her gaze over me. “Yes, sit down.”

“All right, now I’m intrigued.” I take a seat at the end of the table.

“Okay.” She splays her hands excitedly. “ Open it .”

Grinning, I flip open the plastic top to see ... maps. Not one or two, but what looks like ... hundreds of detailed maps of Triple Falls. As I continue to flip, utter shock filters through me.

“Holy ... fucking shit, General,” I rasp out as I go through every page, my mind fucking blown at the amount of detail she put into every single one.

“There is a table of contents,” she spills excitedly as she points out the ins and outs of the book while I stare down at it in astonishment. Shaken by the amount of work I’m positive she must have done.

“The woman who made it,” Delphine explains, “well, helped me put it together, made sure it was perfect because my writing is still not so good. She helped me label the streets correctly and spell them.” She widens her eyes.

“So you weren’t on Elmbs Street, instead of Elm.

” She laughs before turning to me, her eyes misted with clear emotion. “She did a good job, non?”

“ She did a good job?” I gape up at her to see proud tears multiplying in her eyes as she reads my answering expression.

I keep a tight hold of her with my free hand as I flip through, the ball lodged in my throat swelling rapidly.

“General ... how long .” I swallow and swallow again, the need to know the answer to my question more than the need for my next breath.

“How long did it take you to draw these?” I hear the guttural ache in my voice while lifting my eyes to hers.

“Oh, Tyler, no.” She shakes her head adamantly as the emotion I can’t tame fills my expression. “Please do not be sad.” She lifts my palm and softly kisses it. “It was no trouble at all. I was so very happy to do it for my soldier,” she insists.

I tug our clasped hands to pull her closer to me.

“That’s not what I asked,” I rasp out, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand as she stares down at the bulging book, tears shimmering in her eyes.

“How long, Delphine?” I manage to get past the rapidly swelling lump. A long silence passes as I start to grow impatient before she answers.

“Six years,” she finally admits, as I watch twin tears slowly glide down her cheeks, her eyes purposefully fixed on a laminated page as she speaks again.

“For six long years, I prayed my soldier would come back for his maps,” she relays shakily, her voice filled with mourning, which mirrors the ache I feel.

“Six years,” I repeat as she nods, tears flowing as she holds a shaky smile. “Why six, Delphine?” I ask, anger and a dozen other emotions filtering through me as I stare between her and the book.

She shrugs, which only fuels my upset and stokes my suspicion of exactly what day she gave up.

“I got ... was very sick then.”

“Delphine—”

“Soldier, can I please tell you another time?” she pleads, “I am happy and don’t want to want a drink,” she rambles nervously.

“Okay.” I blow out a breath before inhaling some patience.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it?” I utter, stupefied as I twist my lips around the fucking boulder lodged in my throat and the seizing in my chest. “ Like is far too weak of a word.” I stare down at the book. “It’s fucking incredible.”

“I realize why you did it, why you asked me for these maps.” She slowly kneels at my boots, pulling my hand to her face before staring up at me earnestly.

“You told me to trust you on why , but I realize why. It’s because you knew.

” She shakes her head in embarrassment. “You knew about my brain injury and that it would be good to help with my rehabilitation, non?”

Biting my lip, I nod.

“My soldier,” she whispers, her tears lining the hand palming her cheek, “still trying to save me, even in his absence,” she relays. “I will find a way to deserve you.”

Paralyzed by the sight of her at my feet, by her gesture, I fight for control to pull her to me, to crush her lips, knowing it’s only going to get harder with the road ahead.

“I know you’re still angry with me and don’t want to hear my apology, but will you please, please, let me say I’m sorry?

Tyler, I regret so badly that morning. The way I made you feel.

” She looks up to me, her eyes scanning my face as she ripples with anxiety.

“And that I still regret it every day and always will.”

I nod as more of her tears spill over—these are different in nature. These are tears of the healing kind as my chest continues seizing with a need for her.

“I thought maybe if you ...” Her chest bounces as she tries her best to rein them in. “I thought that if you saw this book, you would see that all my time was not wasted... and maybe you won’t think so little of me?”

I grip the back of her neck, brushing her tears away, adding my other hand to firmly grip her face so she can see the truth in my eyes. “Do you see anything in my face that says any part of you is wasted?”

“Always saying the right things,” she tries to pull away, “I’m so sorry for—”

“Shhh,” I whisper, the need to fucking kiss her overwhelming as she scans my face. In an effort to shield it, I release her in an instant, standing. “I have a surprise for you, too.”

“You do?” she asks, a look of ... dejection ... turning into one of surprise. Am I reading her right? Or is this just my hope blooming?

The notion strikes that these are probably my wants.

But ... does she want intimacy? Her kiss in the shower said so, but she was weak at the time—at her weakest , and I don’t ever want her accusations from that morning anywhere fucking near us haunting our friendship now.

Though she admitted she wanted to be intimate that night we had sex, even the morning after while she obliterated me, I won’t even let that play a factor in us now .

Resigning myself back to dedication to our friendship—which keeps me safely in her life—I decide not to mull over it or let it fuck with my head another second.

Unsure if I could ever handle going there with her again, even as my heart begs for it. The fucker begged me last time too.

“But hear me,” I palm the book on the table. “Before we get to what I hope is your surprise , this ,” I run my hand over the cover, “has just become my most prized possession, fucking ever. ”

“Then it was worth every minute,” she whispers as she stands. “I made you happy, Soldier?”

“So fucking happy,” I tell her. “So, in the spirit of that, are you up for a trip?”

“Tonight?” she asks, glancing out of the living room window.

“Yes, go pack a bag,” I tell her, lifting her to her feet. “We’re not going far.”

“Really? A bag? To stay somewhere?”

“Yeah, for a night or longer, so bring your toothbrush, pajamas, and a few day clothes.”

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’m so excited.” She stalls. “You won’t tell me?”

“Non,” I state with a wink.

“Okay, I’ll be fast.”

“You don’t have to be fast. I’m not going anywhere, Delphine.”

She nods and stops halfway down the hall, turning back to me with a breathtaking smile on her face. “Tyler! For the first time in so long , I don’t have to worry to bring my fucking bottle! It’s stupid to mention, I know—”

“The fuck it is, it’s a victory,” I tell her. “And we’re taking every single one. Big and small. That’s a big one.”

“Right, yes, it’s a victory,” she says, pumping her fist with a giggle before she disappears. Stupefied, I stare after her for long seconds before glancing back at the book as a sinking suspicion sneaks in.

Six years.

Six years. If I’m right about the day she gave up—and my seizing chest is telling me I am—it will fucking alter me in a way I might not be able to hide.

I decide not to press it tonight as I run my palm over the book, her words circling back to me.

“For six long years, I prayed my soldier would come back for his maps.”

Forty minutes later, I’ve done my best to put her admission aside, my anticipation spiking as I pull up the long gravel drive before she turns to me. “I know where we are, Tyler,” she draws out, “we are on your land .”