The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

“It’s my fault though.” I forced my eyes open and nodded at the photo of me and Vi. “We were so close. She used to tell me everything. But you can only do that for so long without getting anything in return. I mean, my first call in the hospital should have been to my best friend, right? But it was you.”

Ronan’s voice was low and rumbling in the dark. “I’m not sorry about that.”

Another dip in my stomach, as if I were drunk or on a kiddie rollercoaster at the Boardwalk. “Me neither.” I inhaled, then exhaled. “A few hours before Bibi fell, I walked in on her talking on the phone with my mother.”

“Okay.”

“I knew it was Mama because Bibi gets this look on her face when she’s on the line. A look I never see her wear, like she’s nervous. Bibi was upset. Angry, even. She kept glancing at me and finally took the call out to the yard.”

“What was it about?”

“She wouldn’t tell me. Mama is the only dead zone between Bibi and me. A place where our honesty breaks down. I begged and then practically demanded to know what was going on. Bibi said Mama had been drinking, and it was all nonsense. But I don’t think that’s a hundred percent true.” I swallowed hard. “But I do know, whatever they talked about, it didn’t include Mama wanting to talk to me.”

Ronan didn’t deny that or try to comfort me with scenarios that he couldn’t possibly know were true or not. He was just there, listening. And that was all I needed.

“She hates me, Ronan,” I said, my throat tightening. “My mother hates me.”

“That can’t be true. All moms love their kids.”

I shook my head against the pillow. “Not her.”

“Then she’s not your mom, Shiloh,” Ronan said. “Not really. And if she’s not, then what does it matter what she thinks? It’s her loss. She’s the one who’s missing out. Not you.”

I let his words settle around me like a blanket. “Easier said than done. To stop caring, I mean.”

“I know.”

“Were you close to your mom?”

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I was.” He swallowed; I heard the click in this throat and watched his Adam’s apple bob. “I couldn’t save her.”

“Save her…? I thought you said you were eight when she died.”

“Yeah, but I was there and I… Never mind.”

“You can tell me.”

He shook his head. “This night isn’t about me. You need to rest.”

“You’re a good guy, Ronan,” I said. He started to protest but I talked over him. “You are. I’m not good for anyone. I’m closed off. Bibi says so and she’s right. I hate this. So helpless against what I feel about her and…”

You…

He turned to look at me.

“I worry about you too,” I said. “Don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do. It’s like my mom. I don’t want to keep caring and getting hurt, but I do. And it’s nearly wrecked me. My bandwidth is stretched to breaking and I have nothing left to give.” I shook my head against the pillow. “I can’t hurt anymore. I can’t. And that’s why it really sucked when you got out of the car yesterday, but I think…” My voice faded to a whisper. “I think it was the right thing.”

“I get it, Shiloh,” Ronan said. “I really do. The only thing I care about is that you’re safe. And happy.”

“Why does that make me so sad?” A great welling sorrow drowned the tingling, pleasurable anxiety of having Ronan in my bed.

“Because we can’t always have what we want. Sometimes it’s better—safer—to walk away.”

“Safer? For who?”