The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

Ronan turned away, his shoulders shaking silently. I moved to him, burrowing into his front and wrapping my arms around him. He held me tight, his face buried in my hair, his big body trembling.

“He’s not all you had,” I said, my voice wavering. “You have me, Ronan. I love you. I love you so much and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

He pulled back, his cheeks streaked with tears. His expression was heartbreaking, struggling to believe he’d heard right.

I moved closer, held him tighter.

“You told me you loved me that horrible night Mitch attacked you. And I was too scared to say it back. I tried to minimize it and pretend like I didn’t feel the same. But I do. I can’t control my feelings or manage them like I try to manage everything else. I love you. And I love how it feels to love you. I’ve never been more scared but never happier either. Loving you feels better than anything I’ve ever known.”

His brows furrowed. “Shiloh…”

When he said nothing else, I had a horrible moment of doubt. Maybe he had been delirious when he told me he loved me. Maybe he didn’t mean it.

Maybe he wasn’t even talking to me.

Then he took my face in his hands and pressed his forehead to mine. He held me close, eyes squeezed shut, his voice a whisper as if he were afraid the fragile moment would shatter. “You’re the best fucking thing to ever happen to me.”

“Does this mean you love me too?” I asked, my heart in my throat. In his hands. “I didn’t dream it, did I?”

He shook his head, still holding me close. “I love you, Shiloh. I can’t believe you’re real. Christ, I keep waiting to wake up to learn it was all a fucking lie. A cruel joke.”

“It’s not. I’m here and I’m yours, Ronan,” I said and then he kissed me, and the rest of my words stayed locked in my heart.

Forever. I’m yours forever.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Holden’s not answering,” Miller said and hung up his phone. The flames of the bonfire lit up his worried expression. “He’s been a mess since Prom.”

“Can you blame him?” I said, thinking of how my night with Shiloh had been fucking perfect in every way, while Holden’s night with River had been a nightmare. He hadn’t even told us how bad it was the morning after when we kicked Chet to the curb.

“He’s leaving the country,” Miller said. “Did he tell you that?”

“No,” I said, a sudden, heavy weight settling in my chest. “He fucking did not.”

That hurt more than I expected. That hurt a lot.

Miller shook his head and strummed his guitar absently. You wouldn’t know by looking at him that he’d signed a deal with a major label and was gearing up to move to Los Angeles to record his first album.

They’re both leaving.

Tha

t fucking hurt too.

The hour grew late. Shiloh and Violet had gone out for a girls’ night. Graduation was coming up and Violet was going to school in Texas a week later.

“Everyone’s scattering to the winds,” Shiloh said the other night in my bed. “Except you and me.”

Damn straight. I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d promised to watch over Miller’s mom until he could move her to LA, and a lawyer had contacted me to say he was sorting out Uncle Nelson’s shit. I’d keep taking care of the Cliffside apartments until then, but I was probably going to have to find a new place to live. Get a job and think about my future.

I couldn’t see what was in it, except Shiloh.

Eventually, Miller called it a night and packed up his stuff.

“You staying?” he asked.

“For a while.”