Chapter 17
Holden
I was an ass, but I couldn’t seem to control my mouth tonight. Bailey gazed at me from the pool tables, his shoulders slumped in a way that absolutely defeated me.
“You could go talk to him,” Shiloh suggested. “You mean well, and I’m sure some part of him knows that.”
A breath gusted out of me. Shiloh was more perceptive than I realized.
“I shouldn’t lose my temper. It’s his life.”
“Mm. But you basically raised him, didn’t you? You want what’s best for him. Your intentions are good, even if your delivery isn’t. Maybe admit that you’re a little wound up tonight, huh?”
“You noticed that, did you?”
Shiloh’s gaze softened, and he leaned in over the table. “If you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay.”
“No,” I said quickly, realizing with a start how true that was. “I want this. It’s just…”
“Scary,” Shiloh guessed.
I nodded. I’d considered medicating, but that wasn’t how I wanted this to go down. Tonight wasn’t only about holding Shiloh’s hand. It was about proving I could be more than my trauma, that I controlled it and it didn’t control me.
If tonight went well, it was the gateway to a better life, one with physical intimacy, maybe even romantic love. But if I failed…
I clenched my fists at my sides, rigid with tension again at the thought of what that would mean. No future with Shiloh or anyone else. No way to express the affection I felt for him. Just year after year of isolation.
“Holden?” Shiloh asked, voice concerned. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” I pushed the doubts down and refocused on the moment at hand. “You’re right. I got in my head, and I took it out on Bailey. I tend to get controlling when I’m stressed.” I winced. “Not attractive.”
“You make it look better than a lot of men.”
I chuckled. “You’re being way too nice. I know it’s a red flag. I’m working on it.”
Shiloh nodded. “Maybe you should be saying this to someone else?”
I followed his gaze to my sulking little brother. “Yeah.” I scooted my chair back. “I’ll talk to Bailey and go pick up our orders at the bar.”
Gray held up his beer in a salute. “Sounds good. I’m starving.”
I crossed to the pool tables, where Bailey was playing a game with Flynn and, by the looks of it, letting him win. Probably setting him up for a hustle when I wasn’t around.
I rolled my eyes, a lecture on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed it down as Bailey straightened.
“We’re just playing for fun,” he said, a defensive edge to his tone.
I tried to smile—and failed, if Flynn’s raised eyebrow was anything to go by.
“I know. Sorry I snapped. I just want you to have the future none of us could, you know?”
“I’m gonna do the applications,” he said. “I promise.”
“I know you will.” I nodded toward the bar. “Help me go pick up the food? Leo’s giving us the stink eye.”
“Sure.”
Flynn joined us, and we collected plates of nachos, chicken-fried steaks, and loaded fries. Shiloh had ordered a quesadilla and a side salad. He was showing more restraint than the rest of us, but then he’d had to keep in shape to perform on camera.
Maybe he’ll be done with that soon…
It wasn’t my place to be jealous or possessive, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the idea of him giving it up made me happy. I didn’t want to share Shiloh with anyone else, touch or no touch.
We set down the plates, and everyone dug in, but I couldn’t find my appetite. I kept looking at Shiloh, thinking about what we might do soon. Thinking about what it could mean for us now that he might be able to teach. If he settled into a day job, we had a chance to really be something.
But only if I could offer him a good reason to stay.
My stomach flipped, and I set down my forkful of steak uneaten.
Shiloh frowned. “You’ve barely touched your food.”
I swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Holden…”
I could see he was on the verge of giving me another out, and if he did that, I might take it.
“Can we go?” I blurted. “I’m sorry to rush you, but…I just need—”
“Sure,” he said easily. “I’ve eaten enough.”
There was a lull in the conversation at the table as we stood. “We’re gonna take off. Don’t stay out too late.”
“Yes, Dad,” Bailey said, but there was no longer an edge to it.
“He can’t help himself,” Gray said with a chuckle.
“Don’t worry,” Dalton said, “I’ll keep them out of trouble.”
Having a sheriff in the family was coming in handy. Shiloh and I said our goodbyes and headed out to the car.
I knew I should talk to him, try to put us both at ease, but I couldn’t seem to find any words. The drive home was quiet. When we got there, Shiloh followed me to the door without a word, seeming to sense I wasn’t up for a conversation just now.
Banshee barked joyously and jumped against my legs when I stepped through the front door.
“Hey, girl.” I crouched, relief sweeping through me as I sank my hands into her silky fur. She settled my nerves a little.
“Lucky girl,” Shiloh said.
I tilted my head to look up at him. “You want to get lucky too?”
He grinned. “Hmm. I don’t know. Are you going to scratch behind my ears?”
“How about I just start with holding your hand?”
“Sounds good to me,” he said softly.
I stood, and he held out his hand. Just like that.
I flinched from it, then cursed myself. This was Shiloh. I could trust him.
“Sorry!” He tucked his arm close to his body, as if to hide the offending limb. “Too fast?”
“A little, yeah.”
“Okay, so…”
“Let’s go to the bedroom and get comfortable.” I smiled tightly. “This might take a while. I’ve got to take it slow.”
“Of course. You set the pace.”
My heart thundered as we walked down the hallway, my nervous system warring between excitement and terror. I wanted to touch Shiloh so badly I’d happily drop to my knees and beg for it, but the damaged little boy inside me quaked with fear that pain was just around the corner.
If my own parents couldn’t touch me with love, why did I think anyone else could?
I brushed the thought aside, knowing it was wrong. That it was just my trauma talking. But damn, it was hard to fight instincts hard-wired into me through fists and hate and pain and grief.
I paused in the doorway, and Banshee leaned against my left leg. Her steady presence reassured me. If I’d had Banshee all those years ago, she’d never have stood by and allowed me to be hurt.
“Okay?” Shiloh asked.
I loved the way he always checked in with me. I breathed through the nerves and gave him a shaky smile. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”
I crossed the room and sat down on the side of the bed. I’d originally planned for us to change and get ready for bed, but suddenly, I didn’t want to put it off anymore.
An urgency took over, my chest aching with a hollowness that only contact with another person could fill. I’d let in bits and pieces of my brothers, but that had been mostly for their sake. It was time to let someone in for me.
Banshee clambered up, crawling into my lap, and nudged my hand with her nose.
“I’m getting hand-blocked by a dog,” Shiloh joked.
“She helps me stay calm. But if you want her to go…”
“No, it’s fine.” Shiloh sat beside me on the edge of the bed, leaving a few inches between us. “How do you want to do this?”
I licked my dry lips, thinking about the logistics. “I think, maybe…just let me lead?”
He nodded. “Got it.”
He placed his hand, palm up, on the bed between us.
I willed myself to reach out and take hold of it. We sat there, breathing quietly, for one beat, two, then three.
Just reach out and touch him. You can do this.
It was the opposite of what I’d been doing for years. Usually, I retreated, avoided, hid from the possibility of contact. My fingers twitched, I lifted my hand, and then nerves flared, and I didn’t make the move.
I let out an exasperated breath.
“Should I be doing something or—”
“No,” I growled, frustrated.
I shook strangers’ hands for work, but that was different. Those moments were stressful and uncomfortable, and I forced myself to endure them. I didn’t want it to be that way with Shiloh. I wanted to connect with him. Wanted to linger over the touch, wanted to enjoy it.
If I couldn’t hold his hand, I could never embrace him, never kiss him, never make love to him.
I lifted my hand again, wanting so damn badly, and nudged the side of his.
Adrenaline surged, making my pulse rush in my ears.
I pulled my fingers back on instinct. Shiloh didn’t chase. He stayed still. Reassured, I slowly reached out again, holding my breath. With one fingertip, I traced the lines of his palm, getting used to the sensation of skin against skin.
“Okay?” Shiloh asked tentatively.
I lifted my finger away on reflex, startled, then exhaled slowly, a smile blooming. “Yeah. I think I am.”
I sank my right hand into Banshee’s fur, grounding myself, then flattened my left hand, settling it featherlight over Shiloh’s palm. The warmth of his skin was a foreign sensation. Unease prickled, but I let it wash through me.
This is Shiloh, and I trust him.
“Your skin is so soft,” I murmured.
I took a breath, let the weight of my hand sink more fully into him, and my heart swelled.
This touch wasn’t one I’d been forced to tolerate. It was more emotional, more comforting.
More significant in every way.
I wanted to enfold his hand or lace our fingers, but my breathing was growing ragged, and I knew I’d hit my limit soon. I didn’t want to trigger a panic. The last thing I wanted was for touching Shiloh to become a negative association for my brain.
I had too much of that already.
Reluctantly, I pulled away.
“Are you okay?” he asked, forehead creased with concern.
“Yeah.” My voice came out hoarse, and I cleared my throat. “It’s just overwhelming. I should probably stop. I know it doesn’t seem like much, touching so little…”
“I didn’t think we’d ever touch, so it actually means a lot, Holden. I’m so glad that you trust me with this.”
“It’s easier to trust you than anyone I’ve ever met,” I admitted.
It had taken me years to get to the same point with my brothers, and even then, I never touched them skin-to-skin. Shiloh had burrowed into my heart so much more quickly.
I wished I could do more. That I could interlace our fingers, hug him, kiss him. But it was only a matter of time. I’d give Shiloh everything one day because I refused to give in to the pain. I had to fight for what I wanted.
What we both deserved.
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Are you sure you’re up for this? I realize it’s probably not fun for you. You could be with anyone else and—”
“I don’t want to be with anyone else,” he said. “We’ve only known each other a little while, but you’re special to me.”
My eyes burned. “Yeah, you’re special to me too.”
“Okay, then,” he said with a gentle smile. “Do you want to get ready for bed, or…?”
“Yeah,” I said, exhaustion sweeping in after the emotional highs and lows I’d experienced. “Maybe we can try again tomorrow?”
“You just tell me when. I’ll be here, ready to follow your lead.”
We stripped down to underwear for me—and nothing at all for Shiloh—and climbed into bed. Shiloh slid under the comforter and situated a long pillow between us. I snuggled into my sleeping bag and zipped up the side.
Shiloh rolled his head toward me on the pillow. “I’m really glad you’ve chosen to trust me,” he said quietly into the darkness. “I don’t want to let you down.”
“You could never do that,” I murmured. “You being here, being patient with me, is everything I need.”
“Good.” He sighed. “It was really nice feeling your hand on mine, Holden. Just so you know. My heart raced, and my stomach flipped, and I felt every point of contact between us as if it was the first time another person had ever touched me.”
“I thought I was the only one feeling that way.”
“Nope,” he said lightly. “We’re in this together.”
For the first time, that actually felt true. I wasn’t carrying this burden alone. I wasn’t fighting my touch aversion—or giving in to it—in a vacuum.
I had a partner now. Someone who would help me slay this dragon that had haunted me for my whole life. I didn’t know if we’d succeed, but as Shiloh had said before, it was the journey that mattered most, not the destination.
As long as I was fighting, I was living instead of just existing. Maybe even loving too.