Chapter 25
Even though I’m standing in front of the restaurant that Madison picked, I still don’t understand how things have gotten this far.
He’s not my boyfriend.
Except when he is, I guess. Like when he’s pretending for my mom, or Gloria, or Madison when she popped over unexpectedly.
He’s not my boyfriend.
Except…I think I kind of want him to be, if I’m completely honest with myself. He’s easily answered every question I’ve thrown his way about killing people, without hesitation. Though, it really does just seem to be a job to him, and not something he seeks out.
Though I’m not sure I feel better or worse about that fact.
“Hey.”
As per usual, he makes absolutely no noise as he walks, but it’s a testament to me getting used to him that I don’t levitate off the ground. I glance up at the man standing a few inches taller than me, studying his face.
“You don’t have to do this,” I’m quick to say, sounding like I’m making an apology. “Seriously, Shiloh. I feel like this is probably a bit outside of a stalker’s job description. You don’t have to humor my friends, or—”
“I like your friends,” Shiloh cuts in smoothly, casually throwing an arm over my shoulders.
It occurs to me that we’re a little matchy matchy, in our dark jeans, boots, and nicer-than-casual jackets that we have on.
“Well, I don’t know the dark-haired one.
And I guess I’ve technically never met the blonde.
But I saw how defensive she got over you at the mall when those two girls were, uh, expressing their opinion. ”
“That was you.” It isn’t a question, and I turn to look at him while his grin grows into a mimicry of the Cheshire Cat.
“Fuck, I knew you were there. You stumbled into them, then followed them back to the bathroom.” Pieces click into place, and their terrified faces flicker in my mind. “What did you do to them, Shiloh?”
Shiloh hums and nuzzles my hair. “Well, I didn’t hurt them.
That would’ve been way too obvious. I just taught them what their parents should have when they were kids.
Don’t be mean to strangers, because you never know which strangers bite.
” He clicks his teeth together audibly near my cheek and my heart flutters.
“You aren’t mad.” He doesn’t ask it as a question, and I let out a little huff.
I’m not mad, and that’s the problem. I should be horrified he did that, and the fact he was stalking me during my daylight hours as well. But I think I feel a little flattered, if I’m being truthful with myself. I think maybe I like what he’s been doing.
Which is incredibly fucked up, my brain supplies.
But I've known that about myself for a while. Shiloh’s existence is just an extra little wake-up call my brain can’t ignore.
“I have to go to a haunt after this,” I tell him.
“You’re working with your dad tonight, right?
” Over the last week of us ‘dating,’ I’ve realized that he helps his dad whenever he can.
Which, for some reason, means late nights and bloody footprints on my floor.
Shiloh grumbles and pulls away. “Yeah, though I don’t know why.
And it shouldn’t take long,” he promises.
“Can we go in now? I’m hungry, and cold.
Plus, I think your friends are staring at us.
” When I look up, he points at one of the restaurant’s large windows, where both Madison and Brynn are sitting on one side of a table near the glass, their eyes on us.
“Well, that’s embarrassing,” I mumble, feeling heat build in my face. “If you’re sure you want to do this—”
“I’m sure,” he promises smoothly. “Though you’re meeting my dad next, since I’ll have met everyone except your dad and brother.” His hand slides down my arm until he can tangle his fingers with mine, and he doesn’t let me hesitate as he walks us to the entrance of Ivory Vine.
“We could’ve gone to The Waffle Wagon.” The words are spoken half to myself, but they garner a quick snort from Shiloh as we stride to the hostess stand. The woman there grins brightly at us, her eyes searching Shiloh’s face.
“Reservations?” Her voice comes out as cheery, and she politely turns to look at me a moment later with the same welcoming expression.
“Our party is already here, actually.” Shiloh waits for the girl’s permission and drags me through the restaurant by my hand like I might run if he lets go. Which is completely preposterous.
After all, there’s food on the line, and I’m starving.
Brynn and Madison never look away from Shiloh as we approach. Their eyes stay glued to his face, and I see them murmur a few comments to each other that I don’t even try to hear. They’re like the nosy grandmothers of any friend group, and I don’t take it personally whatsoever.
“I hope you practiced your rapid-fire responses,” Brynn informs Shiloh as he sits, earning a quizzical look from him that only fuels her grin. “Because you’re about to play twenty questions. Congratulations.”
He snorts at that and settles back in his chair as I do the same.
“Ask me anything you want. I guess I have to pass this test to date Persy, right?” His mask is back on, the one he can use to charm anyone with ears or eyes in a five hundred foot radius.
It’s almost boyish in nature, with good humor and an underlying current of sincerity that my mother ate right up.
I would know, since she hasn’t stopped texting me about him since that morning and wants to meet him as soon as possible.
While I know she’d love him in person, and so would my dad for that matter, I have absolutely no desire to go see them unless I’m being threatened.
And even then, I’m not sure I wouldn’t give up a few fingers to stay on my side of the state.
“Right,” Madison promises. She shoves the bread basket in front of me, where a piece of dark rye has been reserved as my offering. I smile my thanks and take it, splitting it in half before dropping the other half and pushing the basket toward Shiloh.
“Full name?” Madison begins before Shiloh has even picked up the menu.
“Shiloh Wilkes. Twenty-eight,” he answers with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Born and raised in Valparaiso. Went to school in Bloomington. I’ve visited forty-nine states, just missing Hawaii. Never married, no kids. And yes”—his grin gets wider—“this is my natural hair color.”
I can’t help but laugh at his attitude, but I attempt to cover it with a cough. Even Madison looks like she might chuckle, though she gracefully withholds such a human-like reaction in front of him. “What do you do for a living?”
This is the part I’m interested in. I want to know how he’s going to explain away basically beating people up when his dad needs him to, or how he intimidates people for money.
“I’m a consultant for a couple of top firms in Chicago.
I get to work remotely, which is nice.” That has me looking at him, stunned, and Shiloh grins when he sees my face.
“You never asked me for my job title,” he points out.
“We never make it past her asking about my day, or if anything interesting happened.”
He’s not wrong, though he’s definitely phrasing it in a way that makes it seem less violent than he is.
“Oh.” Brynn sits up, looking interested. “Wow. That’s not what we expected.”
“What did you expect?” I grumble with a mouth full of bread.
“For me to have picked him up off the street and dressed him up nice?” In all honesty, I hadn’t expected them to know about Shiloh at all.
But thanks to my forgetfulness and Madison’s hovering, she showed up just minutes after he had, and unfortunately caught us making out on the front porch.
At least she loved Arugula once I invited her inside when she wanted to continue to glare daggers at Shiloh. But it’s hard to hate someone who loves his cat so much that he stood there bouncing him up and down like a baby while cooing at him in front of witnesses.
“Figured he was some scare actor you found at a haunt. You get a little weird about all of that.” Brynn’s words are casual, but I still nearly choke on my bread. Shiloh’s hand comes down, and his fingers squeeze my thigh reassuringly.
“I do love horror,” he admits. “But no. I’m not a scare actor.
Well, okay. Does it count that I helped out with my high school’s charity haunted house back when I was seventeen?
I was the worst werewolf anyone had ever seen, so they politely did not ask me back.
” The admission draws a snicker from Brynn.
“You don’t have to say you love horror,” Madison assures him. “She has other qualities. Not a lot of other interests”—she ignores my noise of protest—“but she has other qualities. Maybe you can get her into something else. Like hiking.”
“I’d rather die,” I promise.
“Or traveling.”
Shiloh and I look at each other, and he shrugs. “What do you think? We could get one of those boards with pins to put the map at every haunted attraction we come to and make a road trip of it in your off season? Your followers would love it,” he suggests while stroking my leg lightly.
It’s…actually a really cool idea. I’ve shown him boards on Etsy, the ones with the states’ top haunted locations marked, and you put a ghost-shaped pin in once you’ve visited them. He’s heard me sigh wistfully over them a few times this week, after a follower revealed their existence to me.
“Yeah?” I ask, warmth flooding me with pleasant surprise. “That would actually be really fun if you want to go.” I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like this, with butterflies fluttering pleasantly through my insides and my brain very aware of his hand on my thigh in a comforting, positive way.
His smile is sweet, making me want to lean in, but Madison’s voice cuts through my rose-tinted daydream.
“Wow.” When both of us look at her and Brynn, they’re grinning. “Where in the world did you find him, Persy?” she asks.
“Why?” My voice comes out quizzical, and a touch defensive. Like she’s going to insult Shiloh, or—
“Because I didn’t think anyone this perfect for you could exist. Seriously, you guys seem like you’re made for each other. I think…” The waiter shows up at the table behind us, giving us the signal we’re next. Madison picks up her menu, and I grab mine because I have no idea what they even have.
“I think you’re good for her,” Madison tells Shiloh. “But if you hurt her, Brynn will end your life.”
“Happily,” Brynn assures him, while I sit there and think of all the ways that would go poorly for them.
Shiloh just gives him his charming puppy grin, but when he speaks, it’s closer to his normal voice than the one he uses to charm the masses. “Don’t worry, Mom and Mom-in-law,” he jokes. “I don’t want to hurt Persy. I’d rather let her hurt me than make her cry.”
The promise definitely works on them, and after the waiter takes our orders, they switch the line of conversation to something socially casual instead of interrogating him any longer.
Once we’re outside and I’m sure I can never eat pasta again with how full I am, Shiloh pulls me off to the side, though he waits to do so until Brynn and Madison have left the parking lot.
He backs me into my car, and before I can say a word, he kisses me sweetly, with one hand cupping my jaw.
His tongue licks at my lower lip, tasting and begging, though I barely hesitate before giving him access to my mouth.
I love the taste of him, after all, so it’s almost purely selfish to do so.
“I’m sorry I have to work tonight,” he sighs, not breaking the kiss.
His hands rest against the hood of my car on either side of me, and I give in to my urge to twine my arms around his neck.
“You’re going home? Oh, no, that’s right.
” He pulls back to nuzzle my cheek. “You’re going to a haunt, right? ”
“Yeah.” I gaze up at him through my lashes, nausea mixing with the pasta in my gut. I’m lying to him, just like I’m lying to my friends. None of them would be okay with what I’m doing tonight, but I don’t know what else to do.
I’ve talked myself into going to Miscreant Manor if only because I need the crap they’re saying about me to end.
I can’t stand how they’re poking malicious fun at me and continuing to pull screengrabs from my videos to mock me on their social media platforms. And while I know I should just get over it and let it die down, I can’t.
I don’t know how to do that. “But I’ll see you the next time you show up at my door? ”
“You have my number.” Shiloh rolls his eyes. “You could just text me.” He kisses me again, and then murmurs. “Are we dating?”
There’s a hint of vulnerability in his voice I don’t expect. Like he’s unsure. Like he needs to know. All this time I've been half sure that everything between us has just a game to him, but that little bit of uncertainty…
My heart twists in my chest, and this time I’m the one to initiate the kiss. I don’t let him pull away until we’re both panting and probably giving the restaurant’s patrons a hell of a show.
“Yeah,” I tell him with my fingers tangled in his auburn hair. “I think we’re officially dating now. I suppose.”
Shiloh laughs and kisses me again, though eventually pries himself away from me. “Text me about your haunt,” he calls over his shoulder, opening the door to his truck.
“Text me about your, uh…” I mime stabbing someone dramatically, to which he only rolls his eyes. Again, I worry about my sanity, and why I’m okay with him hurting and killing people.
But again, I have a million excuses to convince myself I’m not unwell. That I’m not fucked up and a fear-seeking adrenaline junkie with absolutely no moral compass.
If only I could believe that.
In my car, I wait for him to drive away, and my heart sinks like a stone in my chest. I shiver as the car warms up, my breaths visible in the air in front of me.
When I’m sure he’s gone, when I’m sure I’m alone, I pull out my phone and type the address that will take me to Miscreant Manor into my GPS, where I’ve promised I’ll never go and whose waiver I already signed and sent back to them this morning.
If Madison knew, she’d kill me. If Brynn knew, she’d tie me up for Madison to kill me.
And if Shiloh knew?
Well, I doubt he’d be very thrilled with what I’m about to do. But it’s better to explain and ask forgiveness after.
Right?