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Back Dear Enemy Save as PDF
Chapters (40)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. CONTENTS
  4. START READING
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. CHAPTER ONE
  7. CHAPTER TWO
  8. CHAPTER THREE
  9. CHAPTER FOUR
  10. CHAPTER FIVE
  11. CHAPTER SIX
  12. CHAPTER SEVEN
  13. CHAPTER EIGHT
  14. CHAPTER NINE
  15. CHAPTER TEN
  16. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  17. CHAPTER TWELVE
  18. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  19. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  21. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  23. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  24. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  38. EPILOGUE
  39. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  40. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“And when this is done?” The thickness in my throat swells, making my words rough. “Will you still go on that tour?”

She worries her bottom lip with the edge of her teeth. “You know, for the first time in years, I’m not looking forward. I’m just concentrating on right now.” She appears to find this surprising, almost funny, if her huff of laughter means anything. “I don’t want to think about the future.”

In that we differ. For the first time in years, all I see is the future. It’s dark and empty, and what scares the ever-loving hell out of me, what makes me get up and leave the kitchen a short while later, is that it will be because she’s gone.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Delilah

Macon and I do not mention that evening on the porch. Whether this is by silent, tacit agreement or it simply doesn’t register as any big deal to Macon, I don’t know. I can’t ask because, as stated, I refuse to speak of the incident. It’s a struggle not to think about it, either, but I manage. Mostly. There are occasional flashes of memory—how very good it felt to rest on him, how very delicious he smelled, or the heady feeling I got just hearing the deep rumble in his chest when he laughed. Those unfortunate snips of memory I push away as quickly as I can. But they disturb me. Mostly I’m disturbed by how easy it was to cuddle up to him.

But in the dark of night, when I’m huddled under my covers alone and too sleepy to fight it, a trickle of regret will steal over me. It was more than comfortable there with Macon. For the first time in my life, I felt seen. And for an all-too-brief moment, it was perfect.

And then there’s Sam. I know without a doubt I won’t see her until she’s good and ready to be found, that guilt and shame have pushed her into hiding. This is far worse than the time she disappeared for a month after blowing a semester’s worth of tuition on a weekend in Vegas with her girlfriends. Daddy was alive then and mad as hell. She only came slinking back when she ran out of money, and only then—I’m convinced—because she knew Daddy wouldn’t actually kill her.

She’s got no such assurances when it comes to Macon.