Season's Feather

Chapter Sixty-Three

Anthony raced through the halls. Delilah is quick on his trail. She was mad. She was mad, and he was mad and it was not going to turn out good.

"I don't know what to do." Anthony whispered.

"It's okay," Delilah responded, "We shall fight together."

"I cannot ask you to fight my battles."

"Anthony Bridgerton, when have you ever asked me to fight? I have stood by you willingly. It is no different than that summer. Always each other rocks. Yet always pushing each other away. We stand next to each other as a default, you do not get to just push me away because it is not my battle. I volunteer to fight in the war."

"That is my job." Anthony grumbled.

"It is not."

"Really? Because it is all I have ever wanted to do for you. You take so much on yourself. You don't let people help you. Delilah you shove your grief and anger and frustration into a box and don't allow it to come out. You have such a leash on yourself. It wasn't your mother who did that. It wasn't your father either. It was you. How deep would you have buried yourself if Daphne had not told me you were working yourself to the brink of collapse over bills."

Delilah dropped her head.

"You do not need to step in when it is not truly us that is suffering. How much more damage are you willing to take before you are left in ruin?"

"I am fine!" Delilah snapped, "I am fine. I have to be fine. I do not have the luxury of running to my mother, I do not have the luxury of falling on my siblings. This is my home I have kept off the ground myself!"

"And you have done it wonderfully, my love." Anthony whispered.

"But is it enough? Since my debut I have faced nothing but trouble. Keeping Simon and Daphne from collapsing. Losing my mother then almost losing you to a deal that could have been enforced. Trying to make the best out of my ward but failing to be the Lady the ton wants to see. I was not ready. I was not prepared."

Anthony shook his head, "But you were prepared. You knew you were prepared. Just like I knew when my father died. Delilah we have never been the people to work away from each other. My future wife. We have always worked together."

Anthony looked at her. And walked slowly. Her back met the wall. He paused.

"Do you remember the night of the thunderstorm?"

Delilah nodded.

"If you had not walked away when you did, you would never have gotten away from me."

Delilah felt her breath quicken. She felt a warmth drape over her. The wind stilled, the noise blended into the night. The moon fell into the room. Was it a coincidence that it felt like a night that summer? Was it a coincidence that the moon flared around both of them?

"Why?" She asked.

Anthony didn't answer. Both of them looked to the window where the sounds of thunder began to play across the night as rain came down. He turned back to Delilah. He just kissed her. And kissed her. And laid her down. And loved her.