In This Together

Chapter Three

The next morning, the hangover was still lingering. Delaney had hoped it would be over by time he woke up, but sure enough as he sat up, taking care not to smash his head against the top bunk, everything swam momentarily and his stomach turned. Okay, maybe it was a good thing he didn't drive home.

Yesterday evening he stumbled in the door, and after slurring his way through a few questions from his mother about how his day went and where he'd gone with his friend, he retreated back to his room. There he'd found Luke getting ready to leave, and after he had, Delaney slipped into a nap that soon turned into sleeping through until the next morning.

Delaney took the stairs slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he went. Breakfast would fix him up nice. Or lunch. What time was it anyway?

As he hit the landing and rounded the corner into the hallway, his mother was rushing toward him, flustered, and practically barreled into him. She bundled him into a hug before he could even ask what was wrong.

He disentangled himself from the woman and held her at an arm's length as she tried to search for words, finally manage to blurt, "It could have been you."

All Delaney could do for a moment was stare at Cara, trying to process the words that had been thrown at him, but he still had no idea what she meant. His thoughts jumped to the one thing he could think of and he had to ask, "Did something happen to Luke?" before he realized how stupid of a question it was. This wouldn't be her reaction.

But Cara just shook her head and led him into the family room where an image was frozen on the screen. A reporter standing in front of yellow tape. He was still confused as she rewound the news report and played it for him.

Delaney slumped onto the couch and watched intently. He slowly began to understand. Playing out on screen was a story of a local man found dead in an alleyway. He had been found early that morning when the garbage men came to empty the dumpster. The way he'd been killed pointed to the same attacker from other recent cases, but they couldn't be positive.

A shudder ran through him. But no, he told himself, it could never have been him that this happened to, not if this was done by what he thought it was. That was nothing to share with his mother, and not just because she'd think he was crazy for thinking these killings had to be done by something supernatural. She'd think him crazy for believing in that kind of stuff in the first place. So Delaney kept his mouth shut.

After calming his mother down, Delaney went back to his room to get dressed for the day. It was bad timing, but he still needed to go back to get his car. He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face in his hands. He momentarily considered asking his mom to give him a ride back, but that would only freak her out more. Plus, he hadn't really spent a large amount of time alone with his mom in years and extended car ride, just the two of them, would give them too much time to "talk" or whatever it was moms liked to do with their estranged sons. He definitely wasn't okay with something like that, and even if there was no awkward or forced conversation, he'd rather just not risk it at all. If he called a cab he could dash out the door as soon as it arrived without giving the woman time to fret over him heading back to the place where someone had been murdered only hours prior.

He felt guilty, but as Delaney called himself a ride, he mentally mused on how he really needed to find his own place. And a good job. It had been nice at first, being home, but it was time, and he was ready to be on his own again.

When the taxi did get there, he grabbed his car keys and wallet and darted downstairs.

"Who's outside honking?" his mom called from the other room.