It’s all but a confession, but Delilah doesn’t seem to hear it. She’s scowling at the door. “I hit her.”

“Pretty soundly,” I agree. Is it wrong that I silently cheered her? Probably. But I couldn’t help feeling proud of her for standing up to Sam.

“I want to hit her again.”

She sounds so fierce I have to smile. As if she can’t contain her fury, she rises and starts to pace.

“And when she called me . . . not only did she convince me to keep quiet, she infected our relationship again, feeding me doubts, telling me that you were just manipulating me, that you’d always hated me.”

Alarm bells begin to clang. I find myself standing too. “What do you mean when she called you?”

Delilah halts and pales, her eyes going wide. For the first time in our lives, she actually looks guilty. She licks her lips quickly. “She called me.”

“When?” My ears are beginning to ring. I’m not sure what I’m feeling, but it isn’t good.

Her gaze slides away, and she grips the bottom of her shirt. “Before the letters.”

Icy-hot prickles explode over my skin as though she slapped me. “All this time we’ve been together, you’ve been in contact with Sam?”

My damn heart hurts. I thought we were a unit when it came to the wrongness of what Sam did. And she kept this from me?

Delilah puffs out a breath but then rallies. “It was one phone call.”

“One call is enough.” I run a shaking hand through my hair and grip the ends. “Jesus. Here I am feeling like a heel because I didn’t tell you about Sam’s prank. And you talked to her while you were with me? I don’t like being lied to either.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s a thin whisper. Because she knows she’s in the wrong.

“Why?” I snap. “Why would you keep this from me? After all she’d done?”

“Sam begged me not to—”

“Yeah, I just bet she did.” I take a hard step toward her but stop, unable to close the distance. “Did it occur to you that I’d want to know she’d called?”

“It did . . .” She bites her lip. “She said she wouldn’t come back if I told you. So I held my tongue. I’m sorry, Macon.”

The fact that she’s not fighting me ticks me off. I want that spark, a better explanation. I want to be told I’m getting this all wrong, that she didn’t put Sam before me. She’s known since the letters. A thought hits me, and I rock back on my heels. My skin feels cold as I force the words out.