The way he’d looked at me before he left…it wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t tender either.
Just empty.
A hollow familiarity, like I was the air he couldn’t breathe anymore.
I wrapped my arms around myself and pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching soft snowflakes fall and melt on the ground.
Was Shiloh warm enough?
I hated that I’d asked him about the wedding again this morning and about being my plus one. That was why he ran off without me. I was being too persistent, trying to take too much. I had to back off and let him make the decision. He said he’d think about it. That was something. Better than the other times, which were just a flat-out ‘We’ll see,’ or some other non-answer.
I should’ve known better.
But the words had tumbled out before I could stop them, because I wanted it so badly. I was desperate to walk in with him, to let people see us as a couple, finally, after the long year we’d fought to stay together.
I wanted one night.
Just one to believe that we were something steady.
Something real.
And maybe something that could last.
I loved Shiloh.
I loved his wit, his passion, his drive, and the way he loved me.
He knew I had a bad past with men, but his own painful history brought us together. It wasn’t a fairytale. Not a happy one at least, but he saved me from the big bad wolf. Tyler, my ex, had hit me one too many times that night. And I left in the rain, I was convinced I could drive until my car gave out.
That’s how I landed in Kentucky, how I fell into Shiloh’s literal backyard. His dog almost ate me, but at that point in my life, I hadn’t cared if I lived or died. Money didn’t matter when I spent all my savings on different makeup products, constantly trying to hide the bruises.
What is money when it can’t save you?
My family didn’t know about Tyler’s cruelty. They didn’t know anything but the rosy tones I fed them of my life. Shiloh was the first real thing to happen to me. He was so stoic, and yet his pain was so tangible that it was written all over his body.
The dog charged me,and I couldn’t get my damn shoe out of the mud. Why had I taken on this stupid, self-destructive mission? Why had I run my car out of fucking gas and crashed into a tree in the middle of nowhere? Now, I was going to die because of a dog.
A random mongrel was eating my face while I was stuck in the mud in some backyard, all because my designer shoe wouldnot move, and the unrelenting rain poured down on me so hard it created quicksand.
“Help,” I whispered, seeing the frothing drool get closer and closer in the dark.
But then an angel appeared.
No. A man. A blond-haired man in sweatpants.
“Roxy? What the fuck? Why are you barking so goddamn loud? What is?—”
He froze, his phone light flashing on me for a minute and then back again.
“Help,” I repeated, so cold and tired I couldn’t say much else.
He could have let his dog eat my body, and I wouldn’t have had the energy to scream.
Maybe it would hurt less than Tyler.
“Hello? Lady? What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”
He shoved his frothing monster indoors through a sliding screen, and then he walked barefoot in the mud to me.
