The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

“Text me if you hear from Parish.”

“I will. Same.”

We clasped hands and he took off. I sat in front of the fire, in no hurry to go. Watching the flames and listening to the ocean crash. Despite my worry for Holden, I felt more content than I had in years. Shiloh’s love had sunk in deep, quieting that gnawing hunger that had plagued me for years. For the first time since Mom died, I felt closer to what I wanted to be instead of living in the shadows of him. Even the nightmares had backed off a little. I still woke up now and then drenched in sweat, my throat hoarse from a scream, but they were coming less and less frequently. And never when Shiloh slept over.

I settled deeper in my chair and had started to doze when I heard a muttered curse.

Holden appeared, looking pale, his usually perfect silver hair a mess. Dark circles ringed his eyes; his expensive clothes looked slept in.

“Ocupado,” he muttered. “I was hoping for some alone-time, Wentz.”

I sat up. “Tough shit. Where have you been?”

He slumped against one of the boulders that ringed the bonfire. “Busy. Very busy. Lots of plans to make, plane tickets to buy, vodka to drink.”

He took a long pull from his flask as if to prove his point.

I turned away quickly and put my own beer to my lips. “Were you ever going to fucking tell me? Or just split without a goddamn word?”

“Does it matter?”

I glared. “Yeah, it fucking matters.”

He recoiled, guilt in his eyes. And shock. As if he still couldn’t believe he meant something to me.

“I leave in a few weeks,” he said. “After graduation. I have to have the damn diploma in my hand before the walking pus-bags known as my parents relinquish my trust. Then I’m gone.”

“Where?”

He shrugged. “Paris, maybe.”

“You going to say goodbye to River or just ghost him too?”

“I said goodbye to him. At the hospital.”

“And that was enough?”

His silence answered for him.

“Fuck,” I muttered into my beer.

“Oh, you have thoughts on my situation, do you?” Holden spat, pushing unsteadily to his feet. “Tell me—O wise one—how you, who, up until a few weeks ago, had never been in a relationship that lasted longer than the time it took you to finish, are suddenly an expert.”

“At least I’m trying,” I said darkly. “I’m doing my fucking best, and I’ll keep trying to do right by her. You’re giving up.”

Holden sagged. “I tried too. I failed.”

“Try harder.”

He smiled wanly and pushed himself off the rock. “Tough love from Ronan Wentz. You’re one of the good ones. The best. I hope Shiloh knows how lucky she is.”

He gave me a little salute and wandered back the way came.

“Holden, wait…”

But he was already slipping into the night. I thought about following him but then what? Lock him up in the Shack until he listened to reason?

“Shit.” I tossed my beer bottle into the fire and pulled out my phone.