The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

I recoiled, crossed my arms over my chest. “I stayed home for a few days.”

“You can’t answer a damn text?”

“My phone was off. I was trying to rest. So you show up at my house and… What are you doing here?”

“Nothing. Making sure you’re okay.”

I hugged myself tighter, scared of how badly I wanted to throw myself into his arms. The fear put ugly things in my mouth to push him away.

“Why? What is your crazy obsession with me? Being safe? From who? What the hell do you think is going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” he said, frustrated. “I…fucking hell, never mind. Forget it.”

“We are not together. You don’t want to be seen with me.”

“I know what I said, but—”

“And I told you, I don’t have anything to give. We set up…rules. You can’t just come here and break them.”

“And you can’t just fucking disappear,” he shouted, making me flinch. His gray eyes shown silver in the rain and moonlight. Like steel. “You can tell me to fuck off, but you can’t just vanish.”

The hurt behind the anger was palpable, slamming into my chest and sinking into my heart that was already bruised and bleeding from my mother’s visit.

We stood in silence, the rain smattering the pavement the only sound. He carved a hand through his drenched hair. His stormy expression softened, his eyes traili

ng over my face.

“Shiloh…”

I shook my head, unwilling to break. I didn’t know how to break down in front of him. I had no idea what would happen if I did.

He nodded, resigned, and turned and walked away. The words to call him back stuck in my mouth, Mama’s warning whispering in my ear.

I watched him go until the dark swallowed him up and then I went back inside and shut the door.

Chapter Eighteen

“Fuck.”

I slammed the door shut to my apartment and tore off my jacket that was drenched from the sudden, cold rain. “Fuck.”

The look on Shiloh’s face when she answered her door was going to stick with me for a long time. Part shock, part anger, part fucking fear.

She thinks you’re a psycho.

I went to the bathroom to shower and warm up, and the reflection in the mirror agreed. Hair sodden, eyes hooded and ringed with dark circles from so many sleepless nights. So many tired hours spent walking away from nightmares that came anyway when I finally collapsed into bed.

“She’s better off,” I told the reflection.

But I’d known that all along. Shiloh was too good, too beautiful, too whole for someone like me—shattered into pieces until there was hardly anything left but this shit apartment, school (when I wasn’t suspended), and odd jobs that didn’t make a future. I hung out at the beach at night drinking beer, and I walked around town until my old boots were full of holes, for what? To make up for a day ten years ago that could not be given back.

Shiloh had plans and dreams. She had a future. What did she need with pieces of me?

The next morning, after waking with screams in my throat and the futon sheets soaked with sweat, I dragged myself into the shower again. To get ready for school.

Because I’m trying, Mom. It’s pointless and stupid but I’m still trying.

I threw on my jacket and was nearly at the door when a knock came. Maryann was there looking unsure and nervous. Not herself. She was dressed for work in a plain brown skirt with a blazer that more or less matched.