Macon’s eyes hold mine as if he’s willing me to understand. “I was okay with all of that. And then you came back . . . Delilah, you are the only person alive who truly knows me for me. That used to piss me off. But now? It feels like a lifeline.”

A lifeline. I’ve never been that for anyone. And I tried to snap that connection with him. Remorse is a cold fist in my throat. “I’m sorry for how I reacted on the beach. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. It’s just . . . it’s a leap of faith for me, all right? As the person with all the power here, you have the least to lose.”

“Delilah,” he says with a dry laugh, “if you think you don’t have power over me, you’re completely deluded. Haven’t you been paying attention? One word from you has the power to bring me to my knees.”

As if it is any different for me? He can cut me like a blade without even half trying.

A frown works between his thick brows. “I get that it’s hard to switch gears. We were at each other’s throats for years, and now we’re not.”

“I’m trying,” I whisper, the urge to trace the waterdrops along the sharp line of his jaw almost overwhelming.

“I know.”

And I realize that he truly does know. He’s trying too.

“We’re ending the deal,” he says. “It has to end for this to work.”

Nodding, I lean a little on the tub. “And Sam?”

The corners of his lips pull tight for a second; then he lets go of another breath, this one resigned. “I stopped looking for her a while ago.”

“Since when?” I’m more than a little surprised.

“Since the first week you were here. The watch is gone. Only Sam can bring that back. And I cannot punish her without hurting you or your mama, which is something I’m no longer willing to do.”

Goddamn Sam. I don’t want her deeds hovering over us. The sooner she returns, the freer we’ll be. Macon might have given up searching, but I won’t. I’ve been too lax with that. But for now . . .

“I’m sorry,” I say. “For all of it. I hate what Sam did.”

There is kindness in his eyes as his hand edges toward mine. Our pinkies touch. “I know, honey.”

The small point of contact feels like a caress along my entire side. “I’d move out and put some distance between us, but my house has been rented.”

“So stay.” His pinkie strokes the edge of my finger. “I don’t want distance. But if it really bothers you to live here, move into the guesthouse. There’s room.” He says this freely, but his expression is akin to a man sucking on a lemon.