Bringing Delaney Home (Cates Brothers #1) (25 page)

Delaney changed positions to hit a different muscle group. “Good for your mom. Good for you on a first step. The first one always seems the hardest.”

“Tell me about it. Last night, my mom and I went through the kitchen. We threw out all the junk food. Chips, chocolate puddings, cheese doodles. We even poured my favorite cola down the sink.” He shook his head. “Dude, it was painful.”

“But smart. It’s easier to eat healthy when healthy is your only choice in the beginning.” Delaney stretched her arms over her head and carefully twisted her waist in each direction. “Okay. Time to quit jawing. Let’s go.”

“Delaney, take it easy,” Mama Cates called. “Try to calm down. You’ve been jazzed since your run-in with you-know-who.”

“Who’s you-know-who?” Marcus asked.

“I have no idea. For the next hour, that person was never born. She who tricked me into being in the bachelorette auction does not exist in this time, dimension, or plane. Okay. Let’s do this.”

Marcus turned and looked at Mama Cates with a “she okay?” look. Mama Cates shrugged her shoulders, her brow deeply furrowed.

“Okay. Let’s run.” He shrugged and joined her.

Delaney ran two steps and fell flat on her face. Hard. “Ow.”

“Oh, God, Delaney. Are you okay?” Marcus knelt down next to her on the track. Mama Cates rushed over next to him.

Gingerly, Delaney rolled over onto her back to stare up at the sky. “My face is kind of numb. Does anything look broken?”

“Oh, boy,” Marcus said.

Mama Cates frowned. “Oh, dear.”

“Oh, okay, the numbness is wearing off now. Well, I smacked my nose.” She put a tentative hand to her nose, and then held her hand in the air in front of her eyes. “Okay. So, I have a bloody nose.” Delaney used her other hand, also raw and scraped from hitting the track, to probe her cheek and around her eye. “Ow. Does it look as bad as it feels?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Delaney, dear, you know, once we get the small pieces of blacktop out of the scrapes and put some ice on it . . . it, um, it won’t look too bad. After the swelling and bruising are done.” Mama Cates sounded like she wanted to cry.

“Marcus, what’s going on over here?” a man’s deep voice joined them.

“Oh, hey, Coach Wraithe. We were just, you know, running.”

Delaney was gently wiping the blood from her nose with the back of her hand when a head appeared over her, blocking out the blue sky. “Well, hello,” Delaney said.

“Hello. Are you okay?” Coach Wraithe squatted down next to her and started to examine her face.

“Peachy.”

“You don’t look so peachy.”

“Well, there’s peachy and then there’s peachy. I’m the second one.”

“Look, Coach. Ms. Lyons and I thought it would be okay if we ran the track after school when no one’s using it.”

“You’re not in any trouble, Marcus. In fact, it’s nice to see you running. You, on the other hand”—Coach Wraithe looked down at Delaney’s battered face—“are painful to watch.”

“Trust me. It’s not too much better from my perspective. Speaking of perspective—anyone feel like giving me a hand up?”

“Sure.” Marcus and Coach Wraithe each took one of her hands and pulled her up. Mama Cates offered her tissues she used to dab delicately at her nose and cheek.

“Okay. Let’s try this again,” Delaney said.

“What? Delaney, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Mama Cates shook her head vigorously.

“Mama C, my legs are fine, and my face is going to hurt whether I’m running or sitting.”

Marcus shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

“While I was lying there becoming one with the track, it dawned on me that when I ran on the treadmill this morning, apparently, I relied on the rails more than I thought.” Delaney looked hopefully between Marcus and Coach Wraithe. “So, in theory, I just need to hold on to someone in the beginning.”

“I’ll help.” Marcus moved to her side. “Coach?”

“Sure. Let’s give it a try.” Coach Wraithe took her other side.

For the next thirty minutes, the three of them ran around the track. Slowly at first, but picking up a little speed as Delaney got a feel for what to expect from the blade. It was the rebound that threw her off. The power and spring of it surprised her, but her athletic body made adjustments quickly.

“Uh, Delaney?” Marcus stood bent over with his hands on his knees, his breath dragging in and out. “That’s all I got in my tank.”

“Oh my gosh! Marcus, I’m sorry.” She rubbed his back. “I forgot you’re new to running. Crap, you’re going to be sore tomorrow, kid. Man, how selfish can I be?”

He shook his head. “No, no. It was great. I never even thought about how much we were running or how much it was hurting until I hit the wall.” He turned to stand in front of Delaney and looked at her face. Patting the top of her head, he said, “I know you’ve got to be hurting more. Maybe you should stick your whole head in the freezer, you know?”

Delaney poked him lightly in the stomach. “I just might.”

“Later for me.” Marcus grabbed his bag and moved off toward the parking lot.

Delaney sagged down onto the bottom bleacher. Coach Wraithe sat next to her.

“I’m Delaney Lyons,” she said, sticking her hand out. “Thanks for your help.”

“Ben Wraithe. I actually know you. Well, kind of. You were a cross-country captain when I was a freshman. You probably don’t remember me because I always ran behind you.”

“I ran a lot faster back then.”

“That was part of it.”

“Let me guess. You watched my butt when I ran?”

Coach Wraithe looked only a little embarrassed. “It was right there in front of us. It was inspirational. Speaking of inspirational, have you ever thought of coaching? We sure could use a girls’ cross-country and track coach.”

“I have coached a little, but honestly, well, let’s just say that today’s faceplant”—Delaney gestured up toward her injured nose and face—“is pretty representational of my life lately. I don’t think I’m the person to be guiding young girls anymore.”

“Well, the faceplant was impressive, but it was the ‘never say quit’ thirty minutes of running afterward that was really impressive.”

Delaney shook her head. “I can’t—”

“Look at the time. Delaney, we’re late. You know if my Seamus doesn’t eat every six hours, his blood sugar levels drop. Coach, always good to see you. You don’t mind if you and Delaney discuss this later, do you? Come on, Delaney.” Mama Cates hurried her up the sidewalk toward the car.

“Mama C, there’s nothing to discuss with him later. My life is a mess.”

“No. Your face is a mess. Your life is a work in progress.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Y
our life is a work in progress
. Yeah, she got that, except she’d felt stuck for so long now. And it hadn’t started with the explosion. No, a ton of her baggage circled back to her childhood and her parents.

Growing up, she’d had so many questions and so much confusion about how love worked. She could never understand how it was possible for a parent not to love their child. For years, she had been sure it was her fault. Eventually it was just a fact of life. She’d pushed all her hopes and wishes and needs deep into the dark empty spaces of her heart and gotten on with life.

By the time high school arrived, she was focused on two things: protecting and raising Greer and finding a way out once Greer was out of their dad’s reach. Hell. It wasn’t like she was the first person raised by dysfunctional parents, but maybe it was time to stop giving them so much space in her head. It might be too late for healing, but maybe she could have closure.

Her time spent with Quinn’s family over the last week, living within the circle of love and true affection in the Cates family, was like living within her deepest fantasies from childhood. And for the first time in her life, she didn’t have to be strong by herself. She could lean on someone. She could lean on Quinn. The feel of Quinn’s strong body surrounding her on the bridge, shielding and supporting, was embedded in each cell of her body.
Everyone needs help, Delaney. All you have to do is ask.
Maybe it was time to ask.

She pulled out her phone and called Quinn. He answered on the first ring.

“What’s wrong?”

“Whoa. What?”

“You’ve never called me before. With everything going on, I figured something else must have come up. What’s up?”

Delaney huffed out a breath. “I need help, and I’m asking you.”

“You got it. Where are you?”

She hadn’t realized her body had contracted and tensed, ready for rejection, until every muscle in her body relaxed like a sigh on Quinn’s response. “I’m at Greer’s. Don’t you even want to know what it is?”

“Nope. I’m in. I’ll be right there.”

Delaney hadn’t visited Hickory Hill Cemetery since the first day she got her driver’s license at sixteen. She had wanted to share the big milestone in her life with her mother, but just like when her mother had been alive, Delaney had walked away empty-handed. Today was different though. She wasn’t looking for anything from them. Today was her chance to finally say what had been in her heart all these years.

Quinn parked his truck on the gravel path closest to her parents’ grave markers. He sat in the quiet of the cab waiting for her to make a move. Five minutes ago, she had been sure she needed to do this, but now all she was sure of was she was close to tossing her cookies. Her insides twisted, leaving her breathless while her hands shook in her lap. Glancing down at her shaking hands only reinforced why she needed to face this. She refused to let them have any more influence on her life.

“You don’t have to do this.” Quinn’s deep voice cut into her turbulent thoughts.

“I think I do.” She clenched her fists tight to stop their shaking, then got out of the truck and walked around and across to the graves. The sun was setting behind an old hickory tree, evening shadows tiptoeing in around them. Two stark markers rested flush with the ground. No “loving mother” or “beloved father” cluttered up the smooth granite. Just her parents’ names and the years they lived had been carved into each.

“I didn’t come home for his funeral. I feel like I let Greer down, but I couldn’t do it.”

“Greer was fine. She understood. Everyone understood.” Quinn stood back behind her, giving her some space. “You want me to wait in the truck?”

Delaney shook her head and turned around to look into his face. “No. I need you.”

“You got me.” He stood like a sentry guarding the perimeter ten feet behind her.

She turned back around to the graves, unable to stop the tremor radiating up through her body. “Quinn? Could you stand behind me like you did the other day on the bridge? Please?”

Leaves crunched under his boots as he moved behind her. He lined his body up against hers, letting her lean against his strength and take from it. His heat seeped in, thawing the frozen lump that had formed in her chest and relaxing the taut muscles in her throat so she could say what she’d held inside forever.

“Mama, so many days I wished you’d been strong enough to protect us. I knew . . . I knew how hard it was. I knew you just couldn’t. But I still wished you could have, I don’t know, tried harder. Just once, I wanted you to be the strong one, the one to step in front of Daddy and protect Greer. So I didn’t have to.”

She shook her head, pushing that thought away. “I’m sorry. That’s not why I came here. But before I get to that, I should get one more thing out in the air. I understand that you were just barely able to save yourself from Daddy. I see that now. You were just existing. Just hanging on. I know what that feels like now, but I think we could have helped you, Mama. Like the way Greer and Quinn have helped me. We loved you and if you could have loved us back, I think it might have helped.”

“But you didn’t love us. If you did, I never saw it. I never felt it. And I don’t understand that. I couldn’t figure out why my mama didn’t brush my hair, or take me shopping, or bake me a cake like all the other mamas did for their little girls. I used to wonder if maybe there was something wrong with me, you know? Was I colicky? Was I moody? Too quiet? Too loud? Maybe there was. But how could you not love Greer? Greer was so easy to love.”

Quinn wrapped his arms tight around her and it gave her the strength to go on. She turned her gaze to the other marker.

“Daddy, you were a mean son of a bitch. On those days when you told me I ruined all your plans and you wished I’d never been born—some days I used to wish that too. And I hate you for that. But today I want to tell you I survived in spite of you. In spite of you both. I’m strong. Stronger than you ever were. I think I’m finally happy.”

She wiped away the tear that had escaped down her cheek to the edge of her mouth and grabbed Quinn’s hands tight, and he grabbed right back. It felt so . . . damn . . . good to not be facing this alone. She pulled air into her lungs, ready to finish what she’d started.

“Early in my life, it was like you dug a deep pit and tossed me and Greer in. And all my life I’ve been clawing and scraping my way out of that dark place. I think I finally made it out. I’m standing up on firm ground. I’m standing in the sunshine now, Daddy.

“I’m taking all my memories of you—the cruelty, the screaming, the horrible names you called us, all of it—and I’m throwing it all in that hole I climbed out of and burying them all away. I didn’t come home to bury you for your funeral because it hurt too much. Eight years ago, deep down I was still wishing things had been different and the little girl in me still hoped for a miracle. Crazy, right?

“I had this dream that you’d stop in your tracks, turn, and look at us the way most dads’ eyes light up when they see their children. You’d open your arms big and wide for us to run into and catch us up in a bear hug. You’d swing us all around in a circle while you planted wild daddy kisses all over our cheeks. I’m not giving you that power over me anymore. I’m burying you today. And all the ugly memories with you. Good-bye, Daddy.”

And then she spun around within the protective circle of Quinn’s body and sobbed against his chest, her arms wrapped tight around his neck like he was a safety buoy in stormy seas. He felt so good to hang on to.