My mother is my rock. Even though I was raised without a real father, she’s woman enough, bold enough, to make me feel like I was never missing anything. She loved me enough to fill any possible void. She loved the Nelson boys with the same sort of ferocity too, hoping that she could make up for what they lost.

But with the Nelsons, their loss was much greater than mine. My father never died. He just left. Of course I’ve dealt with abandonment issues growing up, but there was a time in my teens where he reached out to talk to me, tried to be a part of my life again and I said no. I didn’t need him. At least I didn’t at the time, fueled by teenage pride.

For Shane, Maverick and Fox though, my mother could never replace the mother they lost, the mother who drowned herself down in the river one morning. I’d say Shane might have had the easiest time of it—he was just a baby when she died. He has no memories of her. But he has to contend with the guilt, that it was the post-partum depression that happened after his birth that caused her to commit suicide.

Of course it wasn’t Shane’s fault but Fox was quick to throw the blame around when he was younger. Because of that, the two of them aren’t close and it’s something I wish they could address before it’s too late. Not that I think they’re both in any danger—save for Fox’s job—but life is terribly short and the longer something burns you up inside, the harder it is to move past it. In fact, sometimes I see that darkness and anger flickering inside of Fox and I know so much of it has to do with that. Every time I’ve tried to bring it up though, he just shuts down. His demons are never up for discussion.

And so while it was Maverick who had the horror of discovering her in the river, it is Fox who has taken it the most to heart. He is the oldest, the one closest to his mother. The day she died I imagine a light inside Fox’s heart was forever snuffed out. From what his grandfather, Dick, has told me on more than one occasion, is that the boy Fox was before his mother’s death was someone very different from the Fox we have now.

Maybe in some ways, that’s why I’m so drawn to him—there are layers to him that I don’t get to see, that even he doesn’t see, a beautiful light somewhere under that brave and hardened façade. I also think I have a bit of a savior complex going on, though that isn’t all that uncommon. I know I’m not the first woman who has wanted to save a man from himself and uncover his hidden heart.

The only problem is, the longer I feel this way, the longer I hurt myself. I’ve done so well over the years and it’s finally coming to a head. The pain is finally starting to settle in the cracks in my heart, something I can no longer ignore.

My mother is the first to spot it.

“Delilah,” she says softly to me as I stand over the stove, slowly stirring the bone broth in the pot and watching the fat rise to the surface.

I glance at her and wonder if she’s feeling alright. It’s the same tone of voice she takes on when she’s having a flare-up. My mother has extremely bad arthritis, which has since morphed into chronic fatigue and other auto-immune disorders. It’s why after I broke up with Robert and moved out, I moved back into my mother’s house. She’s okay some days and seems to steadily be improving on a special paleo diet I have her on (when she sticks to it, that is), but she often needs my help and when I can, I cook most of our meals and clean the house, doing whatever I can for her.

“What?” I ask her, hoping it’s nothing serious. Sometimes the medication she takes can make her tired or anxious.

But her eyes are alert and they have a softness to them. A look I’ve been seeing too often lately.

“Are you okay?” she asks as she watches me closely.

I give her a placating smile. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She continues to study me before sighing and sitting down at the table. “We don’t have to go tonight, you know. I can tell Hank I’m not feeling well. They’re used to it by now.”

I frown, though I can’t help but feel relief at the thought. “Why wouldn’t we go? Are you actually not feeling well?”

“I feel fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

I stiffen at that and pour the broth into two large mugs. “I’m doing good mom, really.”

I place the mug beside her and hope to god she drops this because I really don’t want to get into it. After going over to Fox’s place yesterday morning, I feel like I’m barely being held together by the most fragile string.

“Sweetheart, you know you can talk to me,” she says imploringly as I sit down beside her. “You just seem so…sad lately. I know you’re trying to hide it and you’re putting on a brave face and a big smile but…I can feel it off of you. Don’t think a mother can’t.”

I try to swallow but my throat feels thick. My eyes avert to the cup of broth and I try to focus on it, to keep my emotions buried, to keep the thoughts, those painful thoughts, out of my head. “I’m fine,” I say, but my voice snags.

She puts her hand over my hand and I watch as she tries to uncurl her fingers, to hold on, shaking slightly. Her wrinkles and sunspots and veins are so familiar to me and yet I’m suddenly hit with the realization that time is going too fast.

“Delilah,” she says, grasping onto my fingers.

And that’s all it takes.

I burst into tears, sobbing so loudly the broth almost spills over in the mug.

My mother gets up and leans over me, enveloping me into her arms, holding on as tight as she’s able to. “It’s okay,” she says soothingly, a shaking hand running down the back of my head, making me feel like a little kid again. “Let it all out.”

And I do. I cry and cry and cry, letting the overwhelming fear and rejection and sorrow run out of me, giving life to my tested heart.

It feels like ages go past before I finally calm down, my head pounding, my eyes burning, my nose stuffy.

My mother takes my hand and leads me over to the couch in the living room and sits me down, then brings out a box of tissues and the bone broth which has probably gone lukewarm.

“Is this about Fox?” she finally asks.

I stare at her with puffy eyes. How the hell can she tell?

“Sweetheart, I know he has a girlfriend,” she says gently. “When I called Vernalee to ask what I should bring to dinner, she let it slip that he’s seeing someone, Julie I think, and that she’ll be there.”

I take in a deep breath, but even so, I feel like I’m drowning. I nod, afraid to speak.

“Del…you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Don’t cry again, keep it together, deny, deny, deny.

But I can’t deny it, not to her.

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “I love him. Not as a friend. I love him as more than that. So much more.”

“I hate to say it, but I have been waiting for this day you know,” she says.

I glance at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s always been obvious to me. I know you. I’ve raised you. I’ve raised him, too. Both of you together. And you’ve always looked at Fox in a way I’ve never seen you look at anyone else. None of your boyfriends, not even Bobby. I just wasn’t sure if you were aware of it or not.”

“I’ve been aware,” I tell her, feeling overwhelmingly tired all of a sudden. “I just thought it would eventually go away. I thought…I thought maybe it was normal, that it was just a crush. That he was my friend, practically a brother, and I was attracted to him as anyone would be. I mean, look at him.”

She gives me a wane smile. "He is a very handsome man. Very troubled, too."

"I know. But can you blame him? After all he's been through, his job..."

"That accounts for some, but not for everything," she says thoughtfully. "You know Fox has always been hard to figure out but what I do know is that there's something inside him that stops him from feeling happy. I saw it in him growing up, plain as day. He did alright, and despite his temper, he was a good kid. Still, I'd watch him sometimes. Often, actually. I worried about him the way I worry about you now. Knowing that there was something underneath that caused him pain. What I noticed was that even when he was laughing, even when he was happy, he was holding himself back like he didn't deserve to have that happiness."

I'd noticed that too, of course. But when you've known someone for so long, even their afflictions become a part of them. You learn to deal with the bad as well as the good. Fox is so many things, good and bad, and I’ve accepted every part of him.

"And," she goes on, "I think it's something he's going to have to contend with for the rest of his life, unless its brought to his attention." She pauses and has a sip of her bone broth. "Oh, this broth is good,” she says brightly.

"Good. I tried a new kind I found in the frozen section of the health food store." Then reality comes slamming into me again and my heart squeezes. "Did you know that's where Fox met Julie? Can you imagine? It's like some cheesy romance where they're both reaching for the last banana or something."

My mom doesn't laugh. "Delilah. You have to tell him."

Now I laugh. "Tell him what?"

"How you feel about him."

I shake my head. "No. No way. That's not happening."

"It's what's best for everyone."

"No it isn't," I cry out. "It so isn't. Mom, please, believe me. This is how I've always dealt with it. It's unrequited and it will stay that way."

"It's preventing you from finding someone else and being happy."

"No it isn't," I say, trying not to raise my voice, but god, I'm lying. "It isn't. Once I find the right guy, whatever I feel for Fox will go away."

"Love," she says. "You feel love for Fox. And love doesn't go away. You can ignore it, you can bury it, you can pretend it doesn't exist. But it will continue to grow and it won't grow from a happy place. Love gets twisted, tangled. It can eventually choke you if you don't face it."

"That's easy for you to say," I tell her. "Fox is my best friend. I am not about to ruin that. I can't lose him."

"But aren't you anyway?" she asks. "This is the first time I've seen you visibly upset over him. The first time I've seen you want to skip out on the dinner. Don't pretend that it didn't cross your mind. You need to tell Fox and get this horrible weight off your chest."

I get to my feet. I can't sit still anymore. Everything inside me is coming to a rolling boil, the pressure rising.

"And give that weight to him? That's not fair. He has a girlfriend. What kind of person would that make me?"

"He has a girlfriend right now but if you said something to him..." she trails off and looks down at her mug.

"What? You think it wouldn't be a colossal mistake? I love him mom. He does not love me."

"You don't know that," she says softly.

God. Oh god, don't say things like that, don't give me hope.

I manage to swallow. "He doesn't."

"How would you know if you don't ask?"

"Because. I've never picked up on anything like that before. Back in high school, he had the chance to kiss me and he didn't. We played spin the bottle and he wouldn't do it."

She laughs richly. "Oh, sweetheart. You're basing it off of that? Listen, I won't pretend to know how Fox feels or what he's thinking. But I've watched you both grow up together. You have chemistry. The basis for attraction is there. You're both beautiful people who get along like nothing else. Your connection is stronger than steel and I know that no matter what, you can't damage that bond. If you sit him down and tell him how you feel, not only will you finally feel free from that cage you've put around your heart, but you'll give him something to think about. Maybe you’ll give him that same sense of freedom."

I don't agree. None of this makes any sense. Fox won't "think" about it. I'll scare him off. I'll severe the connection between us. For all I know, things with Julie will continue to get more serious. I might have been the one he invited over to take care of the squirrel, and then later for lunch, but that's just old habits. I've always been the one who's at his beck and call. It doesn't even shame me anymore. Back when we were younger, I'd sometimes do his homework just because he asked.

"It wouldn't work," I tell her. "You don't know it until you're in it and I'm in it. I've been here a long time, I can handle more. Besides, maybe he will get serious with Julie and maybe she's meant to be with him and maybe I'm not supposed to get in the middle and fuck it all up."

"Language," my mother warns.

I roll my eyes. "Anyway, I'm glad I finally told you. Lord knows I've had to tell someone. But that's all I'm willing to do. I'll get over it one day, I swear I will. I know this makes me all sorts of crazy but…it’s just the way things are. This is my life."

She stares at me, a hard look in her eyes, the wheels turning in her head. "I can't tell you what to do, Del. All I can do is be there for you and stand behind your decisions. You're a grown woman with a great head on her shoulders and I'm very, very proud of you. But, you have to know that there are consequences for keeping secrets as big as this."

It's not a secret, I want to say. It's not big.

But that would be a lie.

She goes on, "Unrequited love is a poison for the heart. Something that works slowly over time, like adding arsenic to milk, little by little, day by day. Undetectable on the surface but destroying you underneath. Love will give and give and give but unless you let it loose, it will only take from you until there's nothing left."

Fuck. Though my mother is usually fond of lectures, I've never seen her be so serious before, especially over something as personal as love. I have to wonder if it has something to do with my father. Even though she's dated a few men off and on over the years, no one has really stuck it out.

Despite my long overdue confession, the tears and the ominous love lessons, my mother and I still agree to go to dinner. In a way I do feel better about the whole thing, probably because I know my mother knows the truth. It feels good to have someone on your side, who has your back.

That said, I do take a little bit of extra time to make myself look good for the evening. Normally I put my hair back in a ponytail and wear jeans or shorts and a loose tank top and be done with it. This time I decide to wear my hair down. It's shockingly long, past my breasts, shiny thanks to some serum I slicked over it, light brown with gold streaks through it that I get when I'm out in the sun. I usually can't stand the feeling of my hair around my shoulders or face so that's why it's often pulled back, but I'll deal with it for tonight.

I also do some light makeup—tinted moisturizer, smudgy rust-colored eye shadow and a few coats of mascara to bring out my hazel eyes, a bit of peachy lip balm and a swipe of subtle gold highlighter. For clothes, I put on black skinny jeans with rips at the knees that I know for sure Dick will make fun of and a simple white V-neck T-shirt.

Then I add the pièce de résistance, a necklace with a fox pendant. Fox had gotten it for me one year when we went to a flea market together at the next town over. He said it was to remember to "don't give a fox." Which of course was a lame pun but I swear I fell in love with him twenty times over that day. I don't wear the necklace often since I'm not actually a fan of jewelry, but it's always hanging in my mirror where I can see it and no “fox” are given.

I smile at my reflection but the smile doesn't meet my eyes. I know I look good but I also know that it doesn't really matter to someone like Fox, who has seen me both at my best and my worst. Oh well, can’t hurt to try something new.

My mother and I get in the car and soon we're leaving the boundaries of town and crossing over the Queen's River Bridge toward Ravenswood Ranch, the sun low in the west. The Nelson's ranch takes up nearly the entire north side of the river, between it and Cherry Peak, to Willow Lake and back. From this drive you really see the land in all its wild glory, the rolling hills and the tufts of sagebrush and grass between ponderosa pine. Cattle and horses are scattered dots among the velvet gold. This place was my home growing up and it never ceases to mean something to me.

But for the first time, on this drive I've done a million times, I'm nervous.

It's not just that my mom had that talk with me and now I've got it in my head that I need to talk to him (even though I know I won't). It's that everything feels like it's coming to a breaking point. Maybe it will be something I say. Maybe it's something Fox will do. Or Julie. Perhaps they'll announce she's moving in or they’re getting married. Crazier things have happened.

I just know that no matter what it is, something is changing and it's changing for good. There's too much electricity in the air and there isn't even any hint of thunderstorms.

"Here we are," my mother says, as I park the car alongside Maverick's truck, with Fox's forest green Jeep on the other side. She pats my hand. "Things are going to be fine. It's the same old same old at the Nelson's."

But the moment we step inside the house, we know it's not true.

The first person I see is Julie.

Julie with her pixie cut and her cheekbones is standing in the kitchen in one of Vernalee's aprons, a glass of wine in hand. Rachel and her mother, Vernalee, are also in aprons and laughing about something. Julie looks right at home.

In the living room, Fox is sitting down on the couch with a beer, talking to Maverick about something. Shane, Dick, and Hank are all sitting around the table with whisky, while Dick is eating a bag of potato chips as if we aren't all about to eat a huge meal.

The only person missing is Riley.

Regardless, it feels like my mother and I are interrupting a family we aren't a part of and considering I was raised here in the little cabin right next door, that's an odd feeling to have.

I glance at my mother to see if she feels it too, but she's smiling at everyone as she always does and so I'm pretty sure it's just in my head.

"Sorry we're late," she says, even though we're not late at all. Then her eagle eyes spot the chips in Dick's hand. "Dick, what are you doing spoiling your appetite like that? Shane, Hank, you know all that trans fat isn't good for him."

Shane and his father look overly reprimanded with their heads down, which almost makes me laugh.

My mother melts into the room effortlessly while I stand by the door, my eyes darting between Julie giggling in the kitchen with Rachel (traitor!) and then over to Fox on the couch. Neither of them have seemed to notice me yet.

Then Maverick does with a jerk of his chin and I say, too loudly, like I can’t control the volume of my voice, “Where’s Riley?”

“On call,” he says, getting to his feet. “Want a beer or a glass of wine?”

I can’t help but notice that it’s Maverick who is offering, not Fox. Not that Maverick isn’t always trying to make people feel taken care of. He’s good at that.

“A beer would be great, thanks,” I tell him, forcing my eyes to stay on Mav as he goes to get my drink. “Too bad she had to work.”

“I don’t think she minds,” Fox says and I wait a moment, pressing my lips together before I look at him.

“What makes you say that?” I ask.

He shrugs with one shoulder, the beer dangling between his fingers. “Our family can be a bit much. She was probably grateful for the break.” His eyes narrow as he looks me over. “You look different.”

“Nice different?” I ask pointedly.

His gaze goes to me again, as if he’s giving himself permission to take me all in. I swear my skin heats up as his eyes trail over my legs to my stomach, to my breasts, finally to my face. I can’t read his expression; his eyes are glittering with something I’m too afraid to look into.

“Yeah,” he says thickly. “Nice, different.”

“Here you go,” Mav says, slicing right through the moment like a blade and handing me my beer. “Hey, you’ve got like makeup on and stuff.” He grins. “I like it. You’re like my sexy sister.”

“That’s what everyone wants to hear, Mav,” I tell him with a laugh.

Mav reaches out and runs his hand over my hair, letting it glide between his fingers. “And…oh my god. What is this? You have…hair?”

“Shut up,” I tell him jokingly, stealing another glance at Fox. He doesn’t look too happy with the way Maverick is touching me, even if it was preceded by the fact that I look like his sexy sister. Then again, I remember a dinner here once, before Riley and Maverick were dating when they were just co-workers, and Fox was dancing with her. Bugged the shit out of me and Maverick.

So maybe that’s why I gently touch Mav’s tattooed forearm (he’s even bigger and more muscled than Fox is) and say, “Jeez, all this attention, I might have to wear my hair down more often.”

“And the lip gloss,” Mav says, eyes settling on my lips. “Nice touch.” He gives me a wink and now I’m pretty sure he’s doing it for the same reasons I am. Mav has always had my back.

Not unlike my mother. By now she’s in the kitchen talking to Julie and smiling politely at her.

Mav’s eyes follow mine and he puts his hand over mine holding the beer and manually forces it up to my mouth. “Drink up buttercup.” I can almost see him thinking, You’re going to need it.

I take a gulp of the beer, my eyes giving him a grateful look, and then Fox gets to his feet, clearing his throat as he brushes past us and goes straight to Julie in the kitchen.

I immediately look away but Mav is still here, staring at me.

“You going to be okay?” he asks gently.

I give him a dry look. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Mav watches me for a moment, pursing his lips. “It’s not often he brings a girlfriend over to dinner. It’s not often he has one.”

“I’m happy for him.” Tight smile. Another sip of beer. I can do this. “Truly. It’s about time.”

Mav opens his mouth to say something just as I hear Dick exclaim from behind me. “Now who is this stranger?”

I turn around and Mav’s grandpa is smiling in surprise. I’m pretty sure he knew it was me, I mean it’s not like no one has ever seen me with my hair down and he’s not that senile.

Then he frowns at my jeans.

“Delilah, I hate to tell you this but your jeans have holes in them. Did you wrestle with a steer or what?”

“It’s called fashion, Dick.”

“If that’s what constitutes as fashion nowadays, you kids can keep it,” he grumbles, giving me a dismissive wave before popping a chip in his mouth that he had hidden in his flannel shirt pocket and heads back to Shane and Hank at the table.

“Delilah sweetheart,” my mom calls out to me from the kitchen. “Come over here.”

So much for my mother being my rock.

I exchange a quick glance with Mav before I sigh and trudge on over to her.

“You’ve met Julie, right?” my mom asks innocently, which forces me to now look at the fact that both Julie and Fox are standing in front of her and Fox has his arm around Julie.

Fuck.

I nod while I raise the beer to my lips and start swallowing down the rest of it. God help me.

I also want to kill my mother. How can she do this after everything I just told her? I mean, she saw me crying my eyes out over my feelings for him and now she’s forcing me to look at it and confront it and…

Oh…

Shit.

This is tough love, isn’t it?

And because I’m not saying anything because I’m frantically finishing my beer, Julie then says, all white teeth and perky lips, “We were all at The Bear Trap on Friday night. I can see why all the locals like to hang out there. It’s a great place.”

She’s nice. I hate that she’s nice.

“Del took it over a few years ago,” Fox says. His grip tightens around Julie’s shoulder while he’s simultaneously smiling at me, a smile that would normally make my knees feel weak but now is just flaming the anger and embarrassment inside. “She’s done an amazing job.”

I finish the beer and clear my throat, trying to shrug. “Well, you know. The peanut shells really class up the joint.”

“We like to think of Delilah as the town babysitter,” Vernalee says, holding a salad bowl between her hands. “Whenever we don’t want to deal with our husbands or significant others for a while we just drop them off there.”

Julie laughs and places her hand on Fox’s chest. “Good to know.” She glances up at him with an impish smile. “Now I know where to put you when you’ve been misbehaving.”

Hurts. This hurts.

“Del,” Rachel says quickly, gesturing to the cupboards with her head. “Help me set the table, okay?”

I mumble something in agreement, the room starting to feel swimmy, and hurry on over to her. With my back turned to Fox, Julie, my mom, and Vernalee, I feel scant relief. My face is going hot, my heart is racing. Jesus. I need to get a fucking hold of myself here, this is crazy.

“Hey,” Rachel whispers to me as she takes out the plates and hands them to me. “Are you okay?”

I really wish people would stop asking me that.

But all I can manage to do is clamp my lips together until they feel bloodless and nod.

Rachel looks over her shoulder and then eyes me. “I know this is weird.” She pauses. “And before you can tell me that you’re fine, Del, I know you and I know you’re not fine. You looked like you were about to faint back there.”

“Low blood sugar,” I say feebly.

“Come on people, let’s get eating or I’m opening another bag of chips!” Dick yells from the dining room.

“Don’t you dare!” my mom volleys back.

We make quick work of it, Rachel and I setting the table while Dick grumbles to anyone that listens about how hungry he is and how we’ll all find out in a few years that trans fat is actually good for you and how I’ve finally dressed up by wearing jeans with holes in them, then Vernalee and my mother put out the spread.

As usual with the Sunday roasts, it looks delicious. A rib roast with crackly skin, new potatoes, carrots and parsnips. Even when the weather gets stiflingly hot in the summer, like it is now, the warm and hearty meals never change. Before Vernalee moved into the Nelson’s house (and Rachel into the guest house with Shane), it was Hank and Shane who made the meals. They’re both good cooks but you can tell the pride and effort Vernalee puts into it, plus the gathering as a whole. For a bunch of people who have lost loved ones and found new loved ones, it’s a way of keeping us together like family.

I sit down at the table between Maverick and my mother and try not to wince when Fox and Julie sit down directly across from me.

Needless to say, I spend a lot of the meal with my head down, trying to eat, even though I’ve completely lost my appetite. I’ve discovered there’s one good thing about having your hair down, it’s that you can hide your face, even if it gets in your food half the time.

Maybe it’s the amount of wine I’ve had with dinner but when dessert comes out—lemon meringue pie—I dare to look up and actually watch Fox and Julie together. It’s like trying to catch a glimpse of a car wreck. It’s morbid that you even want to watch to begin with and it makes you feel like a dirty-person inside, but you can’t keep your eyes away.

It’s not even anything vulgar that makes my lungs seize up.

It’s just the way he’s touching her, one arm around her shoulder, his fingers running down the edge of her earlobe.

It’s just the way he’s looking at her. Tenderly, warmly. Like he’s sharing a secret language with her.

A language I’ll never know about.

A language from the heart.

I think I’m at the breaking point.

Without thinking, I get to my feet and blurt out, “I need some fresh air.”

And with everyone’s eyes on me, Vernalee whispering “What’s wrong with her? She looks like she’s seen a ghost” to someone, I quickly get out of the house and into the warm night outside.

It’s dark now and quiet except for the crickets. In the distance, the town of North Ridge glows, the lights giving way to the dark mountain ranges behind it and beyond that, a clear, starry sky.

I immediately feel better but it’s not enough. I need to walk, to get my head on straight, to get my heart to stop caving in.

I head down the slope to the barn. It’s second nature to want to come here during hard times. Growing up, if anyone in the house was fighting—and it was usually Shane and Fox—this was where you’d find them afterwards, licking their wounds.

Right now the barn is empty, all the horses are either in their paddocks or the pastures. I glance up at the hayloft and contemplate going up there when I hear footsteps behind me.

I immediately stiffen. It’s funny how you can feel someone’s specific presence without seeing them.

“What’s wrong with you?” Fox asks gruffly from behind me. Typical. Even if he’s concerned, sometimes he comes across like it annoys him to be concerned.

I take in a deep breath and turn around. “I don’t know,” I say, my voice measured. “Just felt a bit nauseous.”

He studies my face intently, so intently that I look away, my eyes drifting over the empty stalls. “I thought maybe I’d pissed you off somehow,” he says.

Is he baiting me?

I meet his eyes. “Why would you think that?”

“You could barely look at me during dinner,” he says, taking a step toward me until he’s a foot away. “Was it something I did? Is this about Conan?”

He’s so damn earnest in that last question that I have to laugh. I fold my arms across my chest. “No, Fox. This isn’t about your squirrel. It’s not about anything. I’m just…tired.”

I can tell he doesn’t believe me and the intensity has changed in his eyes. They’ve become more focused on me, like he’s seeing me for the first time and nothing else around us matters.

“I like this,” he says, his voice sounding thick. He takes a strand of my hair between his fingers and runs them down. “Your hair is so long. You should wear it down more often.”

I roll my eyes and hope I’m not blushing. “You guys are all the same. A girl wears her hair down and puts on some makeup and suddenly you realize that she’s actually hot. It’s like She’s All That come to life.”

Oh shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that last bit out loud since it’s a whole bunch of assumptions and I’m not one to flatter myself like that.

But he just grins. One of those cheeky, warm smiles that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, the dimples appear in his scruff. He doesn’t smile like that very often and every time he does for me, it makes me feel…invincible.

“Del, I’ve always thought you were hot,” he says, still smiling. No awkwardness or hesitation. He just comes out and says it.

And now I am blushing. “Yeah right.”

“What?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear and—hell—his touch causes warm shivers to wash down my back. “It’s true. I mean, look at you.”

Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it.

“Do you remember that birthday party where we played spin the bottle?” I ask him, my voice sounding broken.

He nods. “Kind of.” But he doesn’t remove his hand, keeps playing with my hair.

I don’t know why I’m feeling brave all of a sudden but I am. “Well you spun the bottle and it stopped right at me. No mistake about it. And you got up and said it was stupid and left. Fox, we were good friends and you acted like kissing me was the worst thing on earth.”

His dark brows knit together but his eyes stay warm. “You remember that?”

“Fox. I’m a woman. I’m always going to remember when a boy rejects me, especially my best friend and especially at a young age.”

“But we were young. And I was pretty stupid back then.”

“You thought I was gross.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “I can promise you I did not think you were gross.” His hand then leaves my hair and trails down my arm to my hand. Sometimes Fox holds it and I know I shouldn’t think anything of it but every time he does I wonder if he realizes what it does to me. Then again, I’m starting to think he’s oblivious to absolutely everything.

“I didn’t kiss you,” he goes on, “not because I didn’t want to. I did.” He swallows, shrugs. “I just didn’t want our first kiss to be from spin the bottle.”

Hold up…what?

“What do you mean? Our first kiss?” I repeat, my pulse quickening.

“I don’t know, Del. Back then, I kind of assumed that we would end up together at some point. You know all through high school I had just been waiting to make my move and ask you out. At least figure out if you liked me or not. But then you started going out with that guy with the big ears, what was his name, Ryan McGee? And that’s when I realized that it was probably all in my head. You were just a friend. A sister, even. And I was just a brother to you.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

This is way too much to process.

Fox thought we’d end up together.

He actually liked me back in high school!

“You look shocked,” he says, raising a brow. “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Obvious?” I blurt out. “No. No it wasn’t.”

He lets go of my hand and shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s funny how life goes, isn’t it? It was probably for the best anyway. Could you have imagined us dating? Being a couple.”

Yes, fucking yes.

He rubs at the back of his neck, causing the hem of his shirt to rise just a little, showing off an incredibly toned and flat stomach. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

He goes on. “I’m sure I would have done something stupid to piss you off and you’d dump me and that would have ruined our friendship. If we had gone out, I doubt we’d be standing here like this today.”

“Rachel and Shane dated in high school and they’re getting married,” I say quietly.

“Darling, you and I are not Rachel and Shane. They barely found their way back to each other.”

I nod. “I’m sure you’re right,” I manage to say.

And he probably is. If he had asked me, I would have said yes for sure. But who knows how long our relationship would have lasted. Fox was even more volatile and cranky in high school than he is now and I was drowning in teenage angst. It probably would have ended in many, many tears.

“So does that answer your question?” he asks.

“About what?” I say, my voice barely a whisper now.

“About whether I think you’re hot or not,” he says, a small smirk on his full lips. “You were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen back then and I’d be hard-pressed to say that anything has changed.”

Oh my god.

“What are you guys doing?”

Shane’s voice breaks through us and I take a step back, suddenly aware of how close Fox was standing to me.

“Delilah, are you okay?” Shane stops in front of us, his eyes volleying back and forth between us.

“I was just feeling dizzy,” I tell him with a placating smile. “I’m fine now.”

He eyes Fox warily and then nods at me. “Okay. Grandpa is bringing out the good whisky and he said if you both don’t partake, he’s going to be very upset. Honestly, I just think he has indigestion from those potato chips.”

I smile at that and the three of us walk back to the house.

But contrary to what I told Shane, I am not fine.

I’m not even close.

Everything I used to think about Fox and our relationship over the years has now drastically changed with this new bit of information.

All this time I thought he saw me as his sister.

It turns out that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I was the most beautiful girl in the world to him. I was someone who he thought he’d end up with.

And now I’m wondering if there’s even the smallest chance he could want me that way again.

Hope can be so dangerous.