Page 99 of Deliah
She smiled weakly, then burst into tears again. “I miss him already.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to miss him.”
“I know, babe.”
Her head dropped onto the counter. “Why do men make us feel like we’re too much when we’re just asking to be loved properly?”
I didn’t have the answer to that one either. But I stayed with her, held her hand, rubbed her back, whispered the kind of things that helped me once upon a time. That she was worthy. That she was enough. That one day, this wouldn’t hurt so much. Eventually, after hours of her bouncing between heartbreak and rage, she slumped sideways on the sofa and passed out mid-rant—something about how she hoped Tommy fell down the stairs in socks. Damion came over silently and lifted her like she was weightless, carrying her to the guest room with the kind of quiet respect that said he understood. He tucked her in while I stood in the doorway, watching. He didn’t say anything, just gave me a small nod before heading back out.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, brushing Cherry’s hair back from her face. Even asleep, she looked broken. “You’re going to be okay,” I whispered. “You’re too much of a force not to be.” And I meant it. Because Cherry was wild, no doubt, but underneath it all, she had a heart that just wanted to be chosen. And for now, I’d be the one to remind her of that.
I headed downstairs to find Damion, my chest still heavy from watching Cherry fall apart like that. I was heartbroken for her and furious at him. What the fuck was he even doing? Damion was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of water in hand, quiet and thoughtful. “Damion,” I said gently, “you need to call Tommy.”
He looked up, brow furrowed. “Deliah… come on. It’s not really my place to get involved.”
“I know. I do. But she’s here, a complete mess, and he owes her the truth at the very least. He’s messing her around, and it’s killing her.”
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I get it, but I can’t control what he does. You know what Tommy’s like. He shuts down.”
“She’s spiralling, Damion. She walked here at five in the morning, got pissed out of her head, crying, and saying she loved him. I’m not saying fix it—but just let him know she’s here. That she’s safe. He might even be worried and just too much of a dick to say it.”
Damion looked at me for a long moment. I could see the battle behind his eyes, loyalty to his mate, but something else, too. Compassion. Maybe even guilt.
“Please,” I said softly. “For me?”
That was all it took. He let out a reluctant breath and reached for his phone. “Alright, but I’m only calling to tell him she’s here and alive. That’s it.”
I nodded, watching as he stepped away and dialled the number. He put the call on speaker.
“Yo,” Tommy answered, his voice rough.
“Rough night, mate?” Damion asked, forcing a small laugh.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“You know she’s here, right?”
“Yeah, figured she would be.” There was a pause, then Tommy added, “She’s a fucking nightmare, Damion. Absolute nightmare.”
Damion let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, she is, mate. I get it.”
I rolled my eyes from across the room, biting my tongue.
“But,” Damion continued, “she’s also in bits. She’s not just pissed off, she’s proper heartbroken. She got absolutely smashed and passed out on our sofa. She’s in the guest room now.”
There was silence on the line. Then, quietly: “Shit. Alright. I’ll sort it.”
Damion hesitated, then added, “Look, I’m not trying to get involved, but… maybe if you just told her how you actually feel, she wouldn’t be such a nightmare, yeah?”
I smiled. It was subtle. But in his own Damion way, he was sticking up for her. He was walking that impossible line, calling out his mate without throwing him under the bus.
Tommy sighed. “You want me to come get her?”
“She’s out cold right now. Probably best to let her sleep it off. Come in the morning if you want.”
“Yeah. Alright. Call me if she kicks off again.”
