I shook my head. “You are too much. Last night. This morning…”
Because he loves me.
The moment you know your life is about to change forever hits like a sledgehammer. The weight of it heavy and monumental but exhilarating. I felt it when Bibi told me I got the start-up loan for my business. I felt it again in that kitchen, looking at Ronan Wentz.
I love him. I’m helplessly, hopelessly in love with him.
I opened my mouth to let the words come out when his phone on the table between us rang.
“Yeah?” His eyes widened; his face paled. “When?”
My pulse sped up as I watched confusion, alarm, and then something worse play over his features.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” He set the phone on the table and stared at it. “Nelson is dead.”
“Oh no…” I breathed, my hand flying to my chest. “Oh God, Ronan, I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“Not sure.” Ronan’s voice sounded hollowed out by shock. “That was a tenant in the building he manages. Said he found him this morning. I have to go over there.”
He stood and I stood with him.
“I’m going with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Ronan.” I took his arm, gazed up at him. “You are done facing these things alone. Okay?”
He nodded and then let out a breath. “Okay.”
We arrived at the complex called the Bluffs just as the coroner was preparing to leave. The apartment building was in terrible shape—looking to me like it was on the verge of being condemned. On the ground floor, corner apartment, yellow tape had been strung across the open front door.
Ronan stared blankly as a gurney with a body shrouded in white was loaded into a van. My hand slipped into his and he held on tight as we approached the coroner.
“Hey,” Ronan said. “I’m here for Nelson Wentz.”
“Are you next of kin?”
“I’m his nephew.”
“I’ll have some paperwork for you,” the guy said, peering at a clipboard through thick glasses.
“What happened?”
“Looks like cardiac arrest. Won’t know until the autopsy.”
I squeezed Ronan’s hand at the coroner’s cool, business-like tone. He had Ronan fill out his information, clearly eager to go. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Can I go in?”
“Suit yourself.”
Ronan turned to me. “You don’t have to…”
I held on tighter. “If you want some privacy, I’ll stay here. Otherwise, I told you. I’m not going anywhere.”
He smiled thinly, gratefully, and we went inside.
The place was a mess, with garbage and stacks of papers everywhere. Ronan had given me a pair of flannel sleep pants to wear before we left. I’d tied the drawstring tight and rolled up the legs, but they were in danger of falling down and dragging in the trash and refuse that littered the floor. The TV was on, the chair facing it draped with a sheet.
“The tenant said he was in that chair,” Ronan said dully. “He wasn’t well. I tried to ask him about it, but he brushed me off. I talked to him on the phone, but I haven’t seen him face to face in weeks. I should have. I should have checked in more. Made sure he was okay.”
“Don’t think like that,” I said softly. “I’m sure there was nothing you could have done.”
“Maybe not. But what if there was?”
I had nothing to say to that.
Ronan took a last look at the apartment, then shut the TV off and went out. He strode into the parking lot alone and stood with his back to me, hands on his hips. I gave him a minute and then slowly approached.
“Ronan?”
“He was an asshole,” he said, his voice tight. “My dad’s brother. Looked like him too. He was terrible to his tenants and tried to teach me to be just as bad. A real prick.” He shook his head, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Yeah, he was a real prick. But he was my uncle.” Tears stood out in Ronan’s eyes now, turning them molten silver. “He was all I had.”
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.
That 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.”