My heart starts to beat heavily inside my chest because,that name?
That name ismine.
My head snaps up, and our eyes collide.
Surely I am mistaken?
I look over at the others, staring down at me unflinching, as if they’re afraid that if they move, they’ll scare me off. I look back at the man on his knees in front of me, and I notice the second he sees it too. The realizationdetonates this entire interaction, destroying my nerve along with it.
The current that had been simmering between the two of us has changed somehow, forming into something unexplainable.
“Shi—”
“Don’t.” I cut him off, though my voice comes out shaky and quiet as I try to process what the fuck is going on. His reaction, the look in his eyes, is all the confirmation I need to know that I am not imagining this.
I push myself off the floor, ignoring the lingering heat of their presence, and stalk across the room to the spot where they had me pinned a few moments ago. I snatch my coat from where it lies crumpled on the floor, shove my arms into the sleeves, and walk toward the front door. My fingers fumble with the zipper, every step fueled by a sudden need to get out of here.
“I need some air,” I mutter, and I hope that the words are enough to stop them from following me. Or at the very least, give me a head start. I need space to make sense of what the hell just happened, because I’ll be damned if I let myself fall apart in front of them.
“Shiloh,” one of them calls after me, his voice laced with confusion and something that sounds dangerously close to fear.
Or is it regret? Who can even tell?
“Shiloh! Baby, wait—” calls another, but I don’t. Myfingers grip the handle, and then I’m shoving the door open, stepping straight into the snowstorm.
The cold hits me like a thousand tiny little razors slicing across my skin.
“Stupid f-fucking o-outff-it,”I whisper to myself, ignoring the way my teeth immediately start to chatter. This would have to be the worst idea I’ve ever had, especially with the snow whipping sideways like it is. Each flake is almost blinding, stinging my face and plastering my hair to my cheeks. Still, it has nothing on the panic I feel in my chest, knowing that Stone Cold isn’t so anonymous after all.
The band that Jovi and I have been obsessed with for the past six years, the band the media called ‘the polarizing new heartbeat of the rock era, are not the strangers I thought they were. They're so much more than that.
They are my ghosts.
Axl, Phoenix, and Zane.
God, they all must think I'm so fucking stupid. For acting like a damn fan girl, practically drooling over them, all while they probably laughed at me behind their masks.
That’s not even the part that has me all twisted up. It’s the fact that my best friend in this entire world, the one person I tell everything to, the person who has seen me at my highest highs and my lowest lows… kept this from me.
Look, I know that Jovi is not in any way obligated totell me a damn thing, especially given the circumstances. They are Stone Cold after all. Knowing their identities would be a huge risk for the band, not to mention a PR nightmare if it ever got out. I understand that side of things. But understanding doesn’t make it hurt less. What hurts isn’t the secret itself, it’s that Jovi didn't trust me enough to keep it, and I just need a minute to think.
My Doc Martens sink into the snow with each slow, heavy step, which about an hour ago I could walk through easily. Thank fuck I didn’t take them off because it’s so damn cold out here, I would have lost my toes for sure.
I head in the direction of the barn, or whatever the building is beside the cabin, to seek refuge. The wind howls around me, but the real chaos is inside my head.
I havewantedthem. Dreamed about them.
I've imagined them claiming every inch of my body and making me theirs in every way possible over the years. But never did I imagine this.
They made me come?Ohmyfuckinggod!
Younger me would be ecstatic about that twist of fate, and part of me is. I just can't help but feel like I'm the punchline of a six-year long joke.
The minutes blur together until I can no longer tell how long I’ve been sitting here, surrounded by the sound of the wind battering against the workshop walls and shaking the frosted windows. Thankfully, the place looks rather new, or at the very least renovated, because I am fairly certain the storm would have ripped right through it otherwise. The only thing keeping me from freezing to death is the steady hum of the radiator I found in the corner, filling the space with enough warmth to keep me comfortable.
A high, eerie whistle cuts through the snowstorm, almost mockingly, causing the hairs all over my body to stand on end. My chest tightens, and a shiver rolls over me, even though I am perfectly warm, huddled up in the corner of this workshop. Another whistle follows, only this time, it’s coming from the other side, closer than in the direction of the other sound. The wind grows louder, adding to the already spooky atmosphere, although I can still hear the strange whistling noise. Three short haunting notes, moving closer and closer with each echo of the wind, and a wave of unease hits me. I am usually the total opposite of a scaredy cat, but here I am, starting to panic.
“Little Doll,” a deep, distant voice calls over the howling storm, and I am torn between rolling my eyes and feeling afraid. My pulse quickens, and I can feel my blood pumping loudly in my ears, because apparently my body thinks this is real.
