#Chapter45
Truth was, I wasn't sure that I was. I hadn't really spoken to Delilah, besides a quick text that had been ignored, since we had last fought. It seemed so long ago that I couldn't remember having said anything particularly bad to her. Nothing more than I usually spat out during our arguments, at least. But my mouth didn't always stick to the script when I got pissy.
A part of me wanted to text her and demand an explanation. The other part of me just wanted to laugh it off until Blake wiped that stupid, concerned look off his stupid face.
/"We could report her and get her done for assault,/" Blake said as we walked. He had taken the lead, having adopted a confidence that gave the impression that he knew where he was going.
/"Why?/" Tugging my coat, well, Deacon's, since I had refused to give it back because it was comfy, closer around my body, I struggled to keep up with his long strides and talk at the same time.
/"Because she hit you./"
