“Don’t be sorry. Just confirms everything she’s been telling me for years.”
“Is that why you asked Amber to the dance? To get over her for real?”
Amber Blake had flown at me at school the other day, her blue eyes lit up as she told me Miller had asked her to Homecoming. For a second, I thought she was joking; I couldn’t imagine Miller giving another girl the time of day. He hadn’t once in four years, since he’d met Violet.
I guess everyone has their breaking point.
“I have to try,” Miller said. “Maybe something could happen with Amber. Maybe if I gave her a chance, I could move on and be the friend Violet wants me to be.”
“Uh huh. Amber is a friend of mine. A real flesh-and-blood human. Not a blowup doll to take your frustrations out on.”
“Jesus, I know that.”
I sighed. “I know. You’re a good guy, too.”
“Try telling that to Vi.”
“She already knows. That’s why she’s fighting so hard. In her mind, things are either falling apart or they’re standing still. Never becoming something beautiful.” I turned my gaze to the field but in my mind, I was in my backyard, Ronan’s arm under my hands as I traced a line from his tattoo down to his wrist where his heartbeat pulsed. “She’s trying to hold the two of you still so you don’t fall apart.”
So she doesn’t fall apart. So things stay the same. So they don’t go deeper. So she doesn’t spend every waking moment wondering if you’re okay and driving herself crazy with worry.
I gave myself a shake. Being indirect and wishy-washy wasn’t me. If I wanted to regain myself, I needed to be myself. I turned to face Miller. “You, Ronan, and Holden are friends now, right?”
“Yeah,” Miller said absently.
I plucked an invisible piece of lint off my loose-flowing linen pants. “Ronan’s been building a shed for me in our yard. My grandmother hired him from the want ads.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. He didn’t mention it?”
“Not a word. But that’s how he rolls.”
I nodded and irritably brushed a cluster of braids off my shoulder. “Well, he hasn’t been around the last few days…or at school. We have a monster paper coming up in History.”
Miller tore his gaze off Violet, his brows drawn down with concern. “He hadn’t been hanging with us either, lately. Then he shows up the other night with bruises on his arm and a pretty good shiner.”
My eyes widened, and suddenly my heart felt twice as heavy. “Bruises? From where?”
“Don’t know. His uncle, maybe.”
“God, do you think?”
Miller shrugged. “He won’t say.”
“Well, did you ask him?”
“Of course,” he said with a frown. “Holden and I both asked him. He told us to fuck off. That’s Ronan for you. When he doesn’t want to talk, he won’t.” Miller nudged my arm. “Hey. He’s okay.”
I realized I’d been gnawing my lower lip. “Good. I mean…what?”
“You just looked a little worried there for a second.”
I sat up straighter. “I’m not completely heartless.”
My voice quavered on that word, but Miller didn’t notice. He’d resumed his miserable vigil, watching Violet talk with River. The parade had ended and the preparations for the dance had begun.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
“Good idea,” he said grimly, and we made our way down the bleachers with the rest of the students and parents. “What about you? Going to the dance tonight?”
“No. I’ve had a few offers, but…” I shrugged. “I love dancing but not dances. They’re kind of silly.”
I’d had that stance for years and never gave it a second thought. Now I was questioning everything.
Why? What’s different?
Ronan tried to crowd my thoughts, but I pushed him out. It was senior year. There weren’t going to be anymore dances. It was nostalgia, that’s all.
Miller sighed. “Holden and Ronan are ditching me too.”
“Oh? They’re not going?” My voice was three octaves higher than usual.
He shook his head. “I mean, with Ronan it makes sense. Can you picture him at a dance?”
Not dancing, no chance. But holding a girl, enveloping her in his arms, keeping her close…
Jesus, I need an intervention.
“But Holden, that fucker, could’ve backed me up,” Miller said.
We’d reached the parking lot and I patted his arm. “Sorry, my friend. Do you need a ride? So you have time to get ready?”
“No, thanks, Shi. I need to walk. Clear my head.”
I gave him a short hug and we parted ways without me saying anything else that would help him or give him a boost. I had nothing.
When I arrived home, Bibi was making her mint-basil lemonade in the kitchen.
“Hello, baby girl. How was the game?”
“We won,” I said, pecking her cheek and eyeing the lemonade suspiciously. “This is for…?”
“Ronan. Our boy’s feeling much better now.”
I went to the kitchen window. Our boy was in the backyard looking every inch the man as he stacked plywood from the shipment of supplies that had come the other day. He wore his usual uniform—jeans, boots, plain T-shirt. Even from the kitchen, I could see the bruises darkening the skin beneath his owl tattoo and another around his right eye.
Anger flared hot in me, taking me by surprise.
“I’ll bring this to him.” I grabbed the Mason jar and headed out.
On the patio, I plunked the glass on the table and strode to stand right in front of Ronan.
Up close, the bruising around his eye was turning green which meant it was a few days old.
Which meant it had been so much worse.
“Who did that to you?” I demanded.
Ronan frowned down at me, taken back by the fire in my tone. “No one.”
“It was Dowd, wasn’t it? For Frankie?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Of course, it does,” I said, incredulous. “It matters to me.”
We both froze. Ronan’s gaze on me softened. We were standing so close. Close, like we were about to dance or…
I stepped back, my cheeks flaming. “I mean…it’s not right. First your arm and now this.”
“Forget it.”
“I don’t want to forget it. I want to press charges.”
“No.”
“Ronan—”
“It’s over, Shiloh,” he said harshly, though his gray eyes looked more sad than angry. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to fucking think about it. Just…leave it alone.”
“But…”
But nothing. Ronan had shut down, turned away, and resumed his work on my shed, leaving me gaping after him in the middle of the yard like a dope. I turned on my heel and strode back into the house.
“Shiloh, what’s wrong?” Bibi asked.
Everything. Because nothing is what it’s supposed to be.
I sucked in a breath. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
“Hmm,” Bibi said, wiping down the counter with a cloth. “Are you sure?”