“We have some clothes prepared for you to use while you’re staying with us,” Delfino said to Leo as we filed into the house.

It was still in the exact same condition and style that it had been following my brief stay in the hospital we’d left just moments ago. It had the air of a place plucked right out of time, stuck somewhere in the mid-nineteen fifties. I’d seen commercials and reruns that glamorized shit like this, hearkening back to a supposedly simpler time.

“Your room is upstairs across from Lucy’s, should you need anything,” Delfino continued as I shut the door behind us. “And while I’m gone, Lucy will show you around the house.”

“Gone?” I asked, my eyes wide at the implication of being alone with Leo so soon. “You’re not staying, Del—Father?”

That was almost one hell of a slip, on my part. I was used to calling him by his name in private. There was no need to act like we were actually family when we were alone, vestigial blood ties be damned. But we weren’t alone anymore. Now we were with Leo. And, based on what I knew about recovery times for broken ribs, we likely would be for a while.

Delfino seemed to be making a mental note of my near-faux pas. “I have a number of errands to run in town, as well as preparations to make,” he said coolly. “You will care for Mr. Richards while he’s here as I’ve instructed, is that understood?” He eyed me with a lift of one of his brows. “I trust you don’t need my supervision to do that.”

“No. Of-of course not,” I stammered. “I just… I thought you might want dinner before you go.”

Delfino smiled patronizingly, that knowing glint in his eyes as he shook his head. I could already feel my heart pounding with fury while I tried to maintain my pleasant outward demeanor.

“I’ll make do,” he said, patting me on my shoulder. “But do see to Leo’s needs.”

“Certainly,” I murmured, swallowing as I waved my hand toward the stairway, inviting Leo along as I took him on the promised tour of the house. My hands trembled. In a few moments I’d be alone with Leo for the first time in years. I tried to think of what in the world I could possibly say to him, what words could sum up the tempest of emotion that was swirling through my brain.

“Your bed has already been made,” I said, trying to sound as formal as I possibly could on our way up. I didn’t want to give even the slightest hint that I was familiar with Leo. One slip and Delfino might as well know everything—and the last thing I needed, especially now, was for him to learn I’d been keeping secrets.

The longer I disguised my feelings beneath a mask of placidity, the more I felt my anger rising, swirling like a thick, rancid smoke in my chest. I wanted to shout, to scream at Leo everything I’d felt since he’d gotten on that damned motorcycle and left me behind. I wanted to hate him, I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs about how badly he’d hurt me, but with Delfino just a floor away, I dared not utter anything in a tone louder than a whisper. And even at that volume, I was afraid my words would carry—that voicing them out loud, after all this time, would give them power. And the idea of having any kind of power, any control over my life, had become so foreign to me that I could do nothing except fear it.

“You’ll sleep here,” I said, doing my best to put on a pleasant smile as I opened the door to the room across from mine. “Your bed is made, and whenever you’re ready for supper, I will have it waiting for you.”

“Lucy, I—” he began, but before he could utter another syllable, I put my hand to his mouth to silence him. My smile slipped from my face as I withdrew, silently pressing a finger to my own lips to indicate that he’d best keep his mouth shut for the time being. It was like a sort of kiss—the residue of his mouth touching mine, albeit in a roundabout way. I wondered, if I licked my lips later, would I be able to taste him?

“And if you need me for any reason, I will be just across the hall,” I said loud enough to ensure Delfino would be able to hear from the bottom of the stairs. “Day or night, you can ask for whatever you need. It’s our privilege to help you get back on your feet.”

And then I waited. Or more accurately, we waited, Leo and I. We stood less than a foot from each other, a proximity I had never truly expected us to share again. Some magnetism coursed between our bodies, thrumming in the air like the resonance of a plucked guitar string. His gaze was trained on mine with a level of attention that threatened to carry me away, closer to him, to those arms that had once held me so tightly—that mouth that had once claimed mine—all the hard planes and steep curves of his body, his sculpted edges smooth and sharp as sheet metal and ten times as durable. I’d worked so hard to forget all this, to cast any fantasy of reunion aside in an effort to save myself the pain of hope. The moment we were close like this, though—just two people standing in a room—it all came rushing back more potent than ever.

But I knew there was more than just a physical gulf between us. This was a space more vast than could be measured in inches and feet. Undertaking the journey to cross it would not be so simple—and frankly, I wasn’t sure it was one I should be embarking on anyway. And yet…

It was all I wanted. And above all else—above the scent of him; the hungry, wanting look in his eyes; and even the sensation of his soft lips on my skin—the thing I’d forgotten the most was what it was like to want something. Anything. But especially him.

“Come on,” I whispered so softly that even I barely heard the words leaving my lips. I was listening for the sound of Delfino’s retreating footsteps, wishing for the echo of the front door closing and locking behind him. “Leave already…”

And just like that, thoughts of Delfino changed everything. Ruined everything, like they always did. Like he always did. There was no happiness with him in my life. Nothing good could ever remain in his presence—it would always be corrupted and thrown out like trash. After so many years of living with him, that was an influence I found difficult to escape. Unwanted, unbidden, fury twisted my hope into something dark and sick. My wanting withered into resentment. It wasn’t just that Leo had left me, it was everything that had happened since—all of the constant manipulation by Delfino, the total lack of any privacy, or even free will to so much as go to the college I’d always wanted after high school. I was as much a prisoner within the confines of my life as Leo was in that hospital room.

And none of it would have happened if Leo had kept his promise and taken me with him.

Hot, angry tears pricked the corners of my eyes like needles. I wouldn’t shed them, I decided—I wouldn’t give Leo that kind of satisfaction. But he must have seen their shimmer, because as the tears welled enough to veil my view of him, his brow furrowed and his face fell. He’d become a smudge to me, blurred by a grief I’d never been allowed to process, one I’d never spoken out loud or given name to except in my own head. The way he was looking at me was something I could feel, rather than see. There was a palpable nature to it, something tangible about his pity that added a burst of shame to my rage. How dare he, after what he’d done? How dare he look at me that way, make me feel these things I didn’t want to feel?

And what was I feeling? It was getting hard to tell. Conflicting compulsions tapped like bird beaks at the inside of my skull. Hug him, they said. Slap him. Kiss him. Fuck him. Destroy him. There were too many desires to give name to them all, and in the wake of having so many options, I could not decide at all which of these held merit. Which rang true.

At long last, I heard the familiar sound of Father closing and locking the front door to our house, followed soon after by the chitter and rumble of his Chevy’s engine. He was backing out of the drive; the low purr was growing distant like a storm sweeping out to the horizon. But I still felt the tension in the air, smell the burning ozone of an impending lightning strike.

I wasn’t that far off. As soon as Delfino went from being an immediate threat to a mere memory, Leo reached out for me. I hadn’t blinked yet, too afraid that even the most fleeting closing of my lids would betray me and send tears spilling down my cheeks, and thus I stared in unyielding shock as he moved to touch my face. His thumb was lifted, surely meant to sweep across the high arch of my cheekbone, maybe up toward my eye to brush away those persistent tears. It would be a tender, charming gesture, I was sure. Something lovely and painfully sincere.

But I was having precisely none of that. And as it turned out, it took only Leo making a decision to force me to make one, too.

The visceral smack of my open palm against Leo’s face rent the silence, a peal of thunder that crashed through every room. It was as if the house itself had felt the blow, the floor tilting violently below his feet to make him stagger a step away from me, fingers clutching at the redness spreading like a fever beneath his stubbled cheek.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed, ducking out of the way of another swat that glanced off his shoulder and arm. I’d blinked finally, and now, just as I feared, the evidence of my shame and hate and despair had gone careening down my face. “Lulu!”

“Don’t,” I said, pursuing him until he hit the wall. “Don’t you dare call me that. Not after all this time. Not after what you did! What you didn’t do!”

“Lucy, please,” Leo said, grasping my wrists tight enough that my fingers flexed open and went numb. Damn him. Damn him straight to hell. “I can explain. Just let me explain.”

I wrenched away, and rather than risk hurting me, Leo let me go, allowed me to put distance between us again. I smeared my tears across my face with my palms and shook my head at him, a strangled breath skipping wetly in my throat.

“No,” I said around a mouthful of disgust. “No, Leo. You don’t get to talk. You get to stand there and listen.”