Delaney’s expression softened. “So you say. But best friends don’t take away a noble name like Queenie—a name that evokes both BeyoncéandFreddie Mercury?—”
I did reach out then, because I couldn’t help it, and gently pinched Delaney’s lips closed. His eyes widened, and his breath caught.
“D’you want the full and honest answer or not?” I demanded softly.
He nodded once.
I removed my hand, but not before my thumb traced the curve of his bottom lip. His skin was impossibly soft, and the small contact sent heat coursing through me.
I tangled my fingers in my own shirt before I could remember all the other things I could do with them and continued. “The very first thing I did was bring her to a groomer, who had to shave her in a few spots to get rid of the mats. Mats hurt,” I explained. “So it needed to be done. But it was a rough morning for the girl.” I directed my gaze to Teeny. “When they were done and brought me back to see her, she was curled up on a pile of blankets, shivering and shorn. And she made the most forlorn sound. Like she was crying?—”
“Oh, don’t.” Delaney pressed a hand to his throat, his eyes large and liquid. “I can’t take it.”
“And all I could think was that life had done her wrong. So I got her out to the car, and I turned on my usual playlist, and what do you think was the first song that came on?” I hummed a few bars of “I Dreamed a Dream.”
Delaney stared at me blankly for a moment, like the wine was making his brain buffer. Then suddenly, his jaw dropped. “You named your dog…thisdog… after Fantine fromLes Mis.”
“Yep. And called her Teeny ’cause it’s close to Queenie, and I didn’t want her to be confused.” I smiled smugly. “Still think it’s a terrible name?”
Delaney burst into laughter—the kind of laughter that consumed his whole body and bled the tension from his shoulders. The kind I couldn’t help joining in on.
He leaned forward, one hand landing on my thigh to steady himself. “If you gave me,” he said, wiping his eyes, “one hundred guesses, I would never have guessed that, but it’s so, so perfect.” He grinned at Teeny. “For both of you.”
Delaney’s smile was a beautiful thing. So beautiful I wanted to kiss him again.
But that wasn’t what this game was about.
This was about… about…
Fuck, I couldn’t remember anymore. Not with his hand on my leg and the alcohol making my thoughts move like molasses.
I stopped laughing, gulped my drink, and said quickly, “My turn. Why don’t you like Teeny?”
Delaney’s entire body stiffened in an instant. His hand jerked away from my thigh, and he gave me a look of reproach, probably for killing the lighthearted mood. “I don’tdislikeher. Jesus. It’s notpersonal.”
He blew out a breath, seeming to consciously relax himself. “I’m cautious around dogs, that’s all. We had a dog when I was a kid. A golden named Gretzky.” He cut his eyes to me. “Named for the hockey player.”
“Right,” I agreed. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected him to say, but it wasn’t this.
“It’s a silly story, actually. With no real explanation. I was just reading in the backyard when I was… ten, maybe? Sometime after my mom died. And Gretzky… He bit me.” The last words sounded as sad and betrayed as if all the intervening years hadn’t happened.
Delaney rubbed his arm absently, and when he spoke again, he sounded clinical, almost detached. “I guess that just happens sometimes. And it wasn’t serious. Four puncture marks. But there was a lot of blood, and the babysitter freaked out and called an ambulance, and afterward…” His eyelashes fluttered. “Like I said, I became cautious.”
Delaney made it sound like it was a deep, dark confession, not a normal reaction to a traumatic incident.
I reached over and gently touched his arm where he’d been rubbing, the spot where I imagined faint scars might be. “Of course you were scared. Anyone would be,” I said.
Delaney’s eyes locked on my hand, then lifted to meet mine. Something passed between us before he quickly looked away.
He shook his head. “I don’t know about that. And the, ah… the caution got worse over time instead of better. My brothers would corner me on the sofa and dosupervised cuddleswith the dog to remind me I didn’t need to be scared, but that made it worse. I started having nightmares. And I just kept thinking that I didn’t know why I’d made him bite me the first time, so I didn’t know how to… how to avoid a repeat. You know? How to trust that I wouldn’t get bitten again.”
My fingers tightened around his arm protectively. My other hand clenched into a fist. “Didn’t anyone realize you needed to see a therapist?” I nearly growled. “Fuck, Delaney?—”
“My mom was a therapist, actually. If she’d been alive…” He shrugged. “Anyway, my dad was way more pragmatic. He sent Gretzky to live with his sister in Vermont. No dog, no problem.”
I felt those words like a sock to the gut. “Except it doesn’t work like that.”
“Well… to be fair, it’s rarely been an issue. I mostly avoid dogs, and everything’s fine. Except, you know, recently. But I’m going to work on it.” He turned his head to look at me. “Really. It’s notherfault.” He tilted his chin toward Teeny.
