house. I couldn’t leave knowing later she’d go to bed, then wake up in the middle of the night screaming.
Until she said, “You know, I have three older brothers who treat me like I’m some sort of helpless, defenseless child. I don’t need more of it from some asshole who doesn’t know one fucking thing about me.”
“You’re right. You don’t. You need to pull your head out of your ass but you won’t do that because you’re too fucking stubborn, not to mention too goddamned worried what other people will think. Sweet dreams, Shiloh.”
And with that, I left.
6
I sucked in a painful breath. Then I attempted to inhale again but my lungs burned and my stomach hurt.
I was still standing motionless in the same place I’d been when Luke delivered his highly effective parting shot.
Effective that is, if he meant to stab me in the heart and leave me breathless.
There was something seriously wrong with me and it had nothing to do with the nightmares I was having. I lashed out. Always had, as far back as I could remember. When someone got close I pushed them away. I knew I did it; I just couldn’t not do it. The thing was, this normally took a while. I let people in as close as I could without forming any ties and if I felt like they were getting too close, too deep, I violently lashed out to make them leave.
I wasn’t crazy, I knew this about myself. I just couldn’t stop it. But as I said, this took a while—months, sometimes years of being acquaintances with someone before I felt the pressure build and did something to end the connection.
Lasting friendships weren’t my thing. Never had been. My brothers were the only exceptions. And that was mainly because no matter what I said or did, they wouldn’t leave.
Sweet dreams, Shiloh.
I sank to my knees and rested my forehead on the floor and wondered what the fuck was wrong with me.
Luke had done nothing wrong but I was a raving bitch.
He’d tried to help me but I said nasty shit—on purpose to make him leave.
And he left.
Everyone always left.
And why was that? Because I was a basket case, a bitch who was mean to people on purpose when they dared to get close to me. Sweet as pie to strangers. I’d give the shirt off my back to anyone who needed it as long as they didn’t try to strike up a friendship.
Why did everyone always leave me?
I pretended I didn’t feel the wetness leaking out of my eyes. I pretended I didn’t taste the salt as the tears rolled over my lips. I pretended I didn’t hate myself for the things I’d said to Luke. I wasn’t ashamed, I was mortified.
But I wouldn’t fix it.
I never did. I never made things right because everyone always left me. Not one fucking person who was not one of my brothers ever held their ground, no one stayed. Same refrain every time.
It was getting old.
So old, I vowed to cut the few acquaintances I had out of my life before I did something mean. I’d stop going to the bar with my team. I’d stop going to the monthly golf games. It wasn’t like I played golf, I just went to go. No, I went because I liked the guys I worked with, and I liked Gordy’s wife, and liked having a good time. I just didn’t like people asking questions about my life and that was what friends did. They shared. And since I couldn’t share I had no friends.
That was better.
Alone.
Work I loved, my house, my brothers, and nothing else.
No more. Not after what I did to Luke.
The tears came faster and I wasn’t sure if I was mourning the loss of a man I’d spent a handful of hours with or that I’d be missing the next golf game.
Totally messed up.
A golf game, not the company of my team.
I heard my front door open and slam shut. I was on my feet ready to bolt into my bedroom to get my service weapon when Luke appeared.
“I’m not fucking leaving,” he growled. “You can be as pissed as you want. But hear this, Shiloh. You can throw that attitude of yours around and be a bitch just to be a bitch but I’m not fucking leaving.”
I stared at a seriously mad Luke. I did this silently. I couldn’t get my body to move, not even my lips to form words. His