Page 90 of Bartholomew
With that, he was gone. I waited until his car had pulled out of the driveway and his taillights were invisible in the dark night before I closed the door, locking it.
Delilah.
Fear ran through me as I turned and raced back to the study, only to see her standing there, unchanged, unmoving, in exactly the same position I had left her in.
“Delilah,” I choked out, that bile threatening to spill into my mouth after the night’s events.
But she didn’t hear me. Her eyes were glazed over, unseeing, her ears unhearing.
“Delilah,” I begged.
“Delilah!”
CHAPTER19
BARTHOLOMEW
“Delilah. Delilah, please! Talk to me. Come back to me, love. Please.” I was begging, pleading with her to come out of this trance.
Still nothing.
“Delilah, my love. Come back to me,” I pleaded. I swiped at the angry tears that sluiced down my face like water in a stream. Still nothing. She looked straight through me as though I didn’t even exist. It scared me; shook me to my very core.
“Delilah, please,” I whispered, kissing her forehead. I leaned back, searching her face again. This time, she looked at me, not through me. “Hey. Hey, there. I’m right here.”
“Ollie,” she whispered. I pulled her to me, wrapped my arms around her, and held her close.
“I’m so sorry.” I wanted to beg her forgiveness. “I should have never let him speak to you that way. Fuck me, he didn’t even speak to you. He spoke at you.” My words felt acidic and vile on my tongue, so much anger flowed through me.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, but still, she wasn’t herself. How could she be? We had worked so hard, so fucking hard, to make this home a safe place, and in one fell swoop, he had wrecked it. He had smashed that safe bubble of protection we had built for ourselves to smithereens.
“No, you’re not okay, love. But you will be. Let me take care of you.” I waited, waited for that consent I needed in order to do what I wanted to do, to care for her in the way she deserved. After a brief moment, she nodded. Good enough for me. For now.
I picked her up, cradling her in my arms, and took her to our room. I kicked the door shut with my foot, and she jumped at the loud bang as it rattled on its hinges.
“Sorry,” I muttered, internally kicking myself for not having a little more control. I needed control. I needed to breathe. I needed a fucking moment to wrap my head around the fact that a mother fucking asshole had come into our home and degraded my wife. My love. Fuck, how had this whole damned day — this whole damn thing — gone tits up so damned fast?
I sat her on the bed with care.
“Stay right here, okay? Just for a moment. I’ll be in the bathroom. Not far. I’m not going anywhere,” I reassured her, kissing her forehead again and showing her what care I could. I wanted to never leave her side after that man had verbally ripped her apart, but I needed a moment. One fucking moment to get my anger under control. My phone. I needed my phone.
“Delilah, I need to get something from the study. I’ll be right back. I promise.” She nodded, refusing to look at me again, her eyes fixated on the floor. I ran to the study, tearing open the desk drawers and pulling my cell phone out. My fingers fumbled as I typed out a text, the words blurring and nearly unreadable as I realized tears were still streaming down my face.
Get it together, you idiot! I chastised myself, taking a deep breath as I finished the text, pressing send.
-Tell me not to kill the Reverend -
I sent the text to Levi. As soon as I had sent it, I dashed back to the bedroom, finding Delilah still sitting on the edge of the bed, unmoving.
The phone vibrated in my hand.
“I’ll just be in the bathroom a moment, then I’ll come get you, okay, love?” I asked. Once again, she only nodded.
As soon as I was in the bathroom, I opened the text.
-What happened? - Levi
-The fucker came here. Degraded Delilah straight to her face. I want to kill him. Tell me not to. - I pushed send.
