“So am I.”
“You’re too damn cheery—your version of cheery—when I’m trying to spill my guts to you.”
My smile fell and the levity between us collapsed. “Don’t, Shiloh.”
“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“I know but…” I muttered into my coffee, “This was a mistake.”
“Yes, exactly!” she said. “It’s one hundred percent a mistake and yet it keeps happening. And for weeks, nothing happened, and that was even worse. Not…seeing you. Or talking to you.”
I nodded. “I know.”
She inhaled, then let it out. “I miss you.”
The words hit me hard, then sank in, because they were the last thing I’d expected a girl like Shiloh to say to someone like me.
“I mean…I miss hanging out with you,” she added quickly. “Even though you’re stubborn and surly and frustrating as hell. For some crazy reason, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And maybe it’s simple hormones because you look like…how you look. I’m honest enough to admit that there could be some plain old-fashioned sexual attraction going on here.”
I sat back in the seat, my blood heating. I took a sip of coffee, not tasting it.
“I feel like I’m playing ping-pong with myself,” Shiloh continued. “I go back and forth, wanting to keep my distance, focus on my work, because I don’t do drama or messy relationships or feelings. But then something happens and suddenly I’m asking you over to dinner or out for doughnuts. Do you see where I’m coming from?”
I nodded.
She glanced down at her food, toyed with her napkin. “So…am I alone in this? Am I crazy?”
“No,” I said quietly. “You’re not crazy.”
Her head whipped up, and that feeling came back—of something deep passing between us. “Well,” she said, swallowing hard. “What do we do?”
“I don’t know, Shiloh.”
She leaned in, her deep brown eyes intent on me. “I’m going to need more than that, Ronan.”
“I don’t have more than that. Nothing to offer.” She started to protest, and I talked over her. “I’m not like everyone else, Shiloh.”
I’m not normal.
“I know,” she said softly. “That’s why I’m here, sitting across from you, instead of at my beautiful workspace—that you built—working on my future.”
“No, you don’t get it,” I said. “Shit happened in Wisconsin and it fucked me up pretty bad. It’s just better for you…to not have to deal with it. The repercussions.”
“What repercussions?”
Nightmares, fights, the anger that’s the same as his…
When I didn’t answer, Shiloh looked unsure of herself, uncharacteristically vulnerable. She tore little pieces off her napkin, not meeting my eyes.
“I kind of put myself out there just now,” she said. “I never do that.”
“I know.”
“You asked me to hang out with you at the Shack.”
“I shouldn’t have. Sometimes I forget who I am.” She raised her eyes to mine. I shook my head slowly. “You don’t want to know. Believe me.”
“But I do, and that’s entirely my problem,” she said. “I pride myself on being level-headed and instead I’m…”