“I can’t. It feels like…he died and left it to me like his uncle did. Because he won’t talk to me, Bibi. He’s cutting me out of his life, trying to force me to move on.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “I was afraid of that.”

“Doesn’t he get it?” I cried. “Doesn’t he understand how much I love him? I can never move on from him.”

Bibi shook her head, her voice heavy. “The boy was shuffled from home to home for ten years after his mama died. He has no idea that good things can stick. That people can care about him for longer than a month or two. In his world, moving on is what people do, so he’s doing what he thinks is the best thing for you.”

“Joke’s on him; he is the best thing for me.” I sat up, wiping my eyes with the heels of my hands. “He told me he did it. His hands were bruised, and he confessed to beating up Frankie.”

“Do you believe that?”

I didn’t have to think about it; the answer rose up from the deepest part of me, a lone truth in an ocean of grief.

“I know he didn’t.” I looked to her, pleading. “But what do I do now, Bibi? Just what the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Bibi faced forward, thinking for a minute. “Ronan has been pushed around by life so hard… I suspect he’s given little pieces of his heart to those he trusted and watched them walk away with them. Now something like this happens, and I worry there’s nothing left.”

I raised my head. “Is there?”

“You have the last piece of his heart, Shiloh. For good or bad. Silence or no silence. One year or ten. It’s in your hands.” She gave my fingers a squeeze. “And it’s up to you what you do with it.”

Part V

Chapter Thirty-Three

Three years later…

April

My eyes burned as I focused on the delicate filigree on my current piece—a silver ring with multicolored gemstones—the kind of work that required more than four hours of sleep at night. I kept hoping I’d get used to this new schedule, but three years in, and I was only more exhausted with each passing day.

Each day without him…

I’d put a small workstation in the b

ack of Rare Earth’s showroom so I could create jewelry and man the store at the same time, not an hour wasted.

I set the ring down and stretched. It had taken an entire month to get the shop reopened after Frankie Dowd had his fun with it. One month of lost revenue and one month of rent I still had to pay. Now, it was nearly what it had been before, except without Ronan’s displays. I had to purchase new ones because he wasn’t here.

The store had been perfect. We’d been perfect in our own imperfect way…

My cell phone rang with Violet’s number.

“Hey, you,” I said, trying not to sound as tired as I felt. “By my calculations, you’re back in town in T-minus three months. Do not tell me there’s been a change of plans.”

She laughed. “No change. I’ll be there before you know it. I cannot wait to hug you again and be home.”

Violet had struggled through three years of school at Baylor while stardom had kept Miller insanely busy, recording and touring. But that lifestyle had taken its toll with his diabetes. He and Violet were moving back to Santa Cruz so he could rest, and she could finish her undergrad at UCSC before embarking on God-knew how many years of medical school.

“I can’t wait.” I forced a laugh to cover the cracks in my voice. “Literally.”

“You okay?” Violet asked. The woman missed nothing. “I mean…okay is relative, given everything that’s happened, but you sound extra tired.”

“I’m okay. Hanging in there.”

“Shi, you don’t have to pretend with me. If you’re having a hard time, you can tell me.”

Tears stung the corners of my eyes. “It is hard, Vi,” I admitted. “All of it. And Bibi has been so great—as usual—but I don’t want to worry her. Or Mama.” I pulled myself together and huffed a breath. “I’m counting down the days till you come back, so I can dump my problems in your lap instead. Or at least grab a coffee with someone my own age.”

Tags: Emma Scott Lost Boys Romance
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