Chapter 24
24
DOMINIC
“It may have started out that way,” I answer calmly, resigned to this all coming out right here and now. “I came to town after you called because I wanted to see you suffer up close…You were right before, I was bored.”
Shiloh's eyes widen, her tears not letting up for a second as she processes my words. I watch a parade of emotions play across her features one after the other–disbelief, pain, and finally, the resurgence of that red-hot anger she was shaking with when I found her out here.
The only small mercy I have right now is that she seems too in shock to yell anymore.
“I followed you that night after we met at the coffee house,” I press on, the raw confession feeling like I’m flaying off my own skin. “I heard everything you said about me at The Cauldron…I was…I don’t know. I guess I was furious, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. That night was the first time I broke into your house.”
“The first time…” Shiloh repeats my admission in a broken whisper, and I can almost see the cogs turning in her skull. She no doubt is putting together I was the one moving her things around the entire time, not some lovesick student. She rakes her hands through her hair, mussing the curls she spent forever styling, her sobs coming thick and fast. “I should have known I c-couldn’t trust you. I should’ve known th-that this new , kind version of you was all a lie. What is wrong with you? You sick fuck!” Every word comes out a little more shrill until she’s screaming at me again, clutching her diary to her chest like a shield.
“I know it was wrong, okay? I know that!” Despite my best efforts, I can’t help but raise my own voice, too anxious for her to just calm down and hear me out. “I don’t know what came over me, I was just…I was obsessed , Shy! I didn’t want to let you out of my sight. Seeing you again after so many years I…I had this craving .”
I can only pray she sees the truth of it all in my face. I tear the ridiculous mask off and toss it to the ground, letting her see the honesty I’m trying so desperately to convey in my eyes. “It started out as just wanting to fuck with you, but then I found your diaries from when we were kids and… Fuck, I just wanted to know… I wanted to know if you felt the same way about me that I’ve always felt about you. Always. ”
“You want to know how I feel, Dom?” Shiloh spits. “I feel sick. I feel like a complete fucking idiot for letting you get anywhere near me. I let you touch me. Fuck off back to New York and leave me the hell alone." She tries to storm past me then, her legs wobbling as she maneuvers the damp ground in those thin heels. The finality in her tone is a dagger to my chest, leaving me torn open and bleeding.
I can't let this be the end. I won't.
“No,” I bite out, wrapping my fingers around her bicep and pulling her back to me. “I'm not letting you go, not now.”
Shiloh scoffs, her laugh bitter and cutting as she shoves against my chest with all her strength. “Letting me go? You don't own me, asshole. I’m not yours to keep and I sure as fuck never will be.”
I don’t release my grip on her arm, ignoring how she struggles against me. “Just stop for a minute. I know I fucked up, but I want you in my future, Shy. Please. ”
She flinches at the nickname. “Don't call me that,” she hisses. “You've lost that right.”
When she gives my chest another fierce push, I finally let go, unable to let myself keep her trapped–even if it might break me to see her walk away. “Please, just listen–”
Shiloh slaps me right across the cheek, her palm connecting with a sharp sting. “Listen to what? More lies? More bullshit ?”
The agony in her eyes is almost the death of me. I want to gather her in my arms, to promise her that I'll never hurt her again–but I know that's not what she needs right now. She needs the truth, all of it, no matter how humiliating.
“I'm not lying to you, not anymore,” I say, forcing my voice to stay even. “Every fucked-up thing I did was because I wanted to be close to you. I know that's no excuse, but I was desperate to know you, to understand you. I convinced myself that reading your diaries was the only way to do that.”
“You're right, that's not an excuse,” Shiloh snaps, though she’s not running away from me anymore. She breathes a ragged inhale, fists clenching and unclenching around the journal. After a few moments, her shoulders sag slightly, some of the fight draining out of her right in front of me. “I thought...I thought I was falling in love with you.” She’s whispering now, her voice cracking around another sob.
“Shiloh…” I grab her hand. Hope flares in my chest, but I squash it down. Hope is a fool’s game.
She shakes her head, sniffling profusely. “I can't imagine ever trusting you again.”
“You can–”
“No, enough . If you don’t let me go right now, I will fucking scream.”
“Where are you going?” I call out as she storms past me, acidic panic rising in my throat.
Shiloh spins back to face me, her eyes blazing with a fury that eclipses any I’ve ever seen from her–any I thought her capable of. “I’m going away from you. I can't stand to look at your face anymore.”
I can only watch her go, every fiber of my being screaming to follow her, to make this right. But I know that chasing her now will likely end with me being driven out of town by a crowd armed with torches and pitchforks. I've made a mess of everything, and for the first time in my life…
I care enough to want to fix it.
But I have no fucking clue how.
I lean against my car, the cold metal biting at my skin through my clothes. Clawing my hands through my hair again, I tug at the roots as if the pain might clear my head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck ,” I mutter, each word punctuated by a fresh wave of self-loathing.
I’d stashed those journals in my trunk days ago, so sure I'd be able to return them before she ever knew they were missing. I thought I’d just slip them back into that dusty box under her stairs, and she'd be none the wiser. But somewhere along the way I’d forgotten, my whole world tilted on its axis with every second Shiloh opened up to me a little more.
“You fucking idiot,” I growl, chiding myself. My fist connects with the hood of my car before I even realize I'm moving. The dull thud of impact is followed by a sharp sting in my knuckles, but the pain is welcome. It's something to focus on, because I can’t handle the crushing weight of watching her leave.
I have to fix this.
The version of my future where I drive back to New York and never see Shiloh again is one I’ll die before I accept.