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Shiloh’s eyes still glow with that blue flame any time she gets into a passion vent about something. She used to always find any excuse to yell at me from some fucking soapbox or other. Before I left, I found myself starting to enjoy her rambling. But of course, that was before I came to my senses–and shoved those thoughts where they belong, beneath even my darkest layers. They’re trembling inside of me now, reminding me of what I left behind.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
But I swallow it. “Yes, yes, that’s all very touching,” I say, lacing my words with as much condescension as possible. “Poor, lonely Shy Girl, on her own for so long she’s desperate just to be a part of something. You’re like a nauseating Hallmark movie trying to save this fucking party of yours. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s notmyproblem. Blackwood Enterprises is not a charity. We don’t throw money at bullshit lost causes.”
The flash of hurt in her eyes is unmistakable, even as she tries to mask it with outrage. “Lost causes, huh? That’s what you still think of all of us here? Of me?” Her voice wavers a little this time, some of that bite softening as she questions my disregard for everything she clearly holds so dear.
Seeing her start to crumble so quickly is immediately boring.
Pathetic. It’s a shame really. Shiloh was always a smart girl, she could have done almost anything she wanted if she’d grown a fucking backbone and left this town for longer than it took her to get some worthless degrees at the nearest irrelevant college.
I refuse to pity her for making stupid life choices.
“What I think,” I answer, standing abruptly, “is that this was a waste of time. You need to grow the fuck up, Shiloh. This townis a worthless smudge on the map of a much wider world that’s leavingyoubehind.”
I stalk out without bothering to wait for a response. It would likely be weak and stuttered anyway. Little Shy Girl, stillsodisappointing.
And yet, as I climb into my car, I can’t quite name whatever impulse is holding me hostage as I fail to put the Mercedes in drive, once again watching the damn door of the coffeehouse. I tell myself I just want to enjoy that defeated look on her face a little longer. That I’ll be immensely satisfied to witness how her purposeful steps will have morphed into a sad dawdle when she finally drags herself from that table.
I’m momentarily distracted from my vigil by an incessant buzzing from inside my coat pocket. Fishing out my cell, I grind my teeth a little at the string of messages I find from my father.
Dad: What’s this I hear about you leaving the city?
Dad: I didn’t give you permission to take time off.
Dad: Turn your sorry ass around and get back here.
Dad: I have tasks that require your immediate attention.
I close my eyes and force another deep inhale, in serious danger of cracking a molar if I don’t get myself under control. I deserve some time off.
For all my lofty privileges and army of subordinates at the firm, I’m barely more than a glorified enforcer for my CEO father. My extensive capabilities are sorely wasted while I spend my days following his every order. Dante Blackwood couldn’t give less of a fuck about my ideas for the future of our company.
No, until my name is written in the top spot, all he wants me to think about is whatever hecommandsme to think about. More often than not, he has me thinking about how to make sure everyone else is also following his orders. Quickly and fearfully and without fucking question.
Maybe it’s some petty kind of late-stage rebellion that has me now emailing my assistant to cancel the rest of my week. Maybe it’s the intoxicating allure of watching my pretty little sister squirm some more.
Whatever the cause, all I know is that I feel the need to stick around in dear, old Avalon a little longer. And when Shiloh finally makes her exit from the coffee house, leather-clad arms wrapped around herself as she wanders back in the direction she came from, some phantom instinct has me turning my key in the ignition.
Just this once, I tell myself.I’ll probably be bored of her tomorrow.
But right now, all I desire to do is follow her.
3
SHILOH
I trudge back homewith a stomach full of leaden disappointment. The crisp fall air does absolutely nothing to cool my burning rage as I kick at fallen leaves with every step.
Who the fuck does he think he is? That condescending asshole!
My focus is so intent on scorching the sidewalk with my glare, I almost bump into a lamppost when my phone suddenly starts buzzing in my pocket. I pull it out, more than ready to hit ignore on whoever dares interrupt my tantrum. But the moment I see the caller ID, I swipe to answer with a defeated sigh.
“Hey, Grey. Happy Saturday.”
“Well, damn,” my friend and fellow teacher, Greyson, chuckles through the speaker. “Who shit in your cornflakes this morning? Unlike you to be in such a rotten mood.”
“A ghost of dismal Halloween's past,” I grumble, still clueless as to what magical revelation I’m supposed to have in order to save that of the present. “Would you believe me if I said yesterday’s meeting with Avalon’s most entitled bitch wasn’t actually the worst encounter of my weekend so far?”
