He shakes his head once like he’s trying to dislodge the truth. “You keep resisting my offer to dissolve our agreement. Why? Why did you make it in the first place? Was it really all about Sam? Or was it something more?”

Macon watches me like a hawk, ready to pounce.

Panic surges. It rings in my ears and turns my lips numb.

I cut a hand through the air. “This discussion is over.” It has to be.

He narrows his eyes, his chin jutting up. “I don’t agree.”

“Too bad.” I turn on my heel and head for the stairs.

His voice follows, irate and hard. “I never thought you were a coward.”

The words hurt because he isn’t wrong. “Now you know better.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Macon

I pushed too hard, said too much. Maybe I shouldn’t have touched her, but in all that happened today, it is the one thing that didn’t feel wrong. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I have wanted to know how it would feel to be kissed by Delilah Baker for as long as I can remember.

To be kissed by her. There’s a distinction in that. It meant she looked past all the animosity, all the misunderstandings and fuckups, and wanted me anyway. It meant that she forgave me. I can only laugh at myself for being a fool. She might have wanted me in the moment—that heady, mindless moment of unadulterated lust—but the second her sense returned, she looked at me in horror.

Not great.

North comes to help me up the stairs. The fact that Delilah obviously sent him both chafes and amuses me. Neither of us says a word, and North leaves me once we get inside the house. I’m grateful for his silence; it can’t have escaped his notice that both Delilah and I are covered in wet sand.

Alone, I head for my office and take a seat. Delilah needs space, and I want to give it to her. I could have gone to my room and showered off, something I desperately need to do, but we might have run into each other again. Awkward as fuck.

Maybe she’s right. If we give in to this desire and things go wrong, we’ll be stuck together in a fresh sort of hell. Stupid hubris. I should never have taken her offer. It’s trapped us both. But if I hadn’t, she wouldn’t be here. Delilah would have remained a past regret, a break that hadn’t healed right. As it is, she is more like a Ghost of Christmas Past now, reminding me of all the ways I’ve fucked up. I should end this. But I can’t. I fucking can’t.

With a sigh, I rest my head against the chairback and wince as pain slices along my spine. Yep. Definitely pulled something.