Shiloh held still, as if she were waiting. Her pulse jumped in the hollow of her throat. I felt myself draw in to her, her small, lithe body dwarfed by mine. Then my shadow fell over her. I caught our reflection in the glass of the shop she wanted. Me in black, tattooed and bruised, and her glinting gold…
She is beauty. I’m everything ugly.
My head reared back, and I took a step away from her. I gave a jerky nod to the laundromat. “So…you going to make a bid for this place?”
“Oh, uh…no,” Shiloh said, retreating. Her open face reverted to its usual focused, no-nonsense expression. “I mean, yes, I’d love to. But I’m not ready yet, and it’ll be a miracle if it’s still available this summer.”
“Thissummer? How old are you?”
“Eighteen in December. I want to be the youngest entrepreneur in town,” she said as we continued our walk. “Not that that means anything. Mostly, I just don’t want to waste time. I know what I want, and I’m working really hard to get there, so I see no reason to wait.”
“Seems like a lot of work.”
“It will be, but that’s what I love. While making the copper trees, I became addicted to the satisfaction of doing difficult things.” She smiled dryly. “I can’t drink booze, so I have to get my buzz elsewhere. Plus, I’m not getting sidetracked with marriage or kids. Not for a long time anyway. Or maybe ever.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think I’d be good at the whole mom thing. I’m a workaholic, type A kind of person. And my own mother hasn’t exactly set the best example. I told you we aren’t close, but that’s putting it mildly. Sometimes it feels like she can hardly stand to look at me.”
I couldn’t imagine it. But maybe that was because I couldn’tstoplooking at her.
“Bibi says she’s lost,” Shiloh continued. “Her mom died when she was young, her dad about ten years ago. Our family is all broken up. Only my aunt and uncle are solid. I guess that’s why I go and visit. To see what a real family looks like. That’s a terrible thing to say, like I’mungrateful for Bibi when I’m not. But sometimes I feel cut adrift. I don’t know who my dad is. Don’t know whoIam. So I work really hard at my jewelry, wanting to make a name for myself. An identity.” She hunched her shoulders. “Sorry. That was a lot.”
“I get it.”
“You do?”
I nodded. “I know what you mean about feeling cut loose from everything. I feel the same. Adrift.”
“Because your parents died so early?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
Shiloh stopped and faced me. “I never said I was sorry about that. When you told me on the day we met, I was too busy being defensive. But I am. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not for him. For her maybe…” My throat tightened.
“What happened?” Shiloh asked gently.
“You don’t want to hear it.”
“I do. But if you don’t want to tell it, I understand. Talking about the past can suck. How about the future instead? What do you want to do after we graduate? College?”
“Doubt it. I’m just trying to get through this year. It’s kind of like a reset, to leave a lot of bad shit behind. Try to be better.”
Mitch Dowd lurking in my apartment clouded my thoughts.
Trying and failing.
“I just want a normal life,” I said. It seemed like it wasn’t too much to ask, yet it was everything.
“Normal. Like…having a family?” Shiloh asked. “Kids?”
I shook my head. “No. I didn’t have the best role model either.”
Understatement of the fucking year.
Shiloh was watching me, wanting to know more. Willing to listen. But telling her about my parents wasn’t like telling Holden or Miller. The three of us were fucked up in our own ways. Telling Shiloh would be like smearing mud over a beautiful painting.