I don’t bother turning on the lights as I head downstairs for a glass of water. Delilah has been experimenting with flavored waters in the hopes that I’ll somehow find them more palatable and less boring than all the regular water I have to drink.

Her ploy worked. I find myself anticipating each batch. The current one is cucumber, mint, and strawberries. I pour a glass and sit my ass down on a chair in the great room.

In the dark, I text North.

Do you know where she is?

I don’t bother explaining who “she” is to North. He’ll know.

He answers quick enough.

No. Check the feeds.

The house has cameras set up by the front door, along the driveway, and all around the front gates. Even though only North and I can access the feed, I refuse to put cameras anywhere else. Instantly, I’m reminded that Delilah is out there and so is one of the women who stalked me.

If Delilah were accosted or hurt by a stalker obsessed with me, I don’t know what I’d do. The air in my lungs grows thin. My thumbs shake as I type.

She was supposed to stay home. She was supposed to be guarded.

Mathias is watching Fredericks. She won’t get anywhere near Delilah.

Cold comfort when the house is empty, and I don’t know where Delilah has gone. I don’t care if it’s spying; I pull up the feed. And there she is, looking edible in a clinging wrap dress and wearing those red fuck-me heels again. She went out shortly after I did; it’s one o’clock in the morning now. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I told her I was going out all night, making it pretty damn clear I was hooking up with someone, and did she stick around, get jealous? No. She went out on her own. As she should. Only, now I’m home alone, and I feel like a fool. For many reasons.

I don’t have a name for the emotions roiling around in my gut, but I don’t like them. Setting down my phone, I close my eyes and breathe. I have to believe she’s safe. Doesn’t stop the other thoughts from crashing in.

Never in my life do I regret my youth more than at this moment. I bullied Delilah out of fear and ignorance. There’s no excuse for it, and I have no idea how to make up for what I’ve done. But I have to because this need for her is only growing stronger, deeper. I care for her. A lot.