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Is there ever a moment where Shiloh isn’t irritated enough to crawl out of his skin?
“I’d say he’s been... determined—“ to get me to break my rule and get him off, ”—focused—” on trying to make me bust a nut, “—and a little extra on the rebellious side, but no worries. He takes his meds every morning, and I think we’re starting to find some common ground.”
If that common ground is liking the taste of blood in each other’s mouths.
His relieved sigh contradicts the worried crease in his brow and the thumb biting.
“What is it?”
Blair glances up, back down, over to Atlas, then at the ground again. He scrubs a hand over his eyes and runs it through his hair.
“He went dark on A almost two weeks ago. We figured giving him some space would be good with everything he’s going through and adjusting to the new arrangements…” He sighs and bites down on his lip. “I never wanted to be the reason their friendship fell apart.”
“You aren’t. Listen. Your brother is strong willed and resistant to change. He can have a bit of a one track mind. And right now that mind is on giving me hell.”
Blair cracks a smile and a small laugh.
“I hate seeing Atlas worried, you know? I hate that Shiloh and I feel like strangers right now. I’m torn between being happy because of everything I’ve gained these last few months and terrified of what I’ve lost.”
I catch Atlas’ eye from across the room and give a quick head nod toward his distraught boyfriend. He wipes his hands on his apron and turns to say something to his coworker.
“Blair.” I drop my elbows onto my knees and lean forward. “Let me take care of him. You’ve got your hands full.”
“I know.” He buries his face in his hands. “The last time I saw him we had a fight.”
I remember the day. The first time Shiloh gave his anger to me. The first time he let me take on his pain.
Atlas steps around the couch and crouches next to Blair’s chair. They immediately fall into each other: Atlas with an arm around Blair, and Blair with his head on Atlas’ shoulder and a hand fisted in his shirt.
They’re the kind of love that’s so pure it’s hard to watch. It’s no wonder Shiloh needed an escape.
“I’ve got to go,” I say, clapping my hands together. “Don’t worry about Shiloh. He’s doing alright. These first few months are going to be rocky. That’s how recovery is.”
Neither look entirely convinced, but they smile all the same. I’m not entirely sure if I should say the next thing or not.
“Here’s the thing. A big part of the process for him right now is identifying his triggers and learning how to either stay away from or manage them.”
Yeah, I don’t like being the person to say this. Especially since I know damn well I wouldn’t take the advice I’m about to give.
“As supportive as the two of you are of him… I think you’re one of those triggers. Whether it’s one of you or both of you or the fact that there is a both of you. Trust that he’s just taking care of himself, and that it isn’t personal.”
I’ve seen the shift in Shiloh’s demeanor when Atlas or Blair come up. He begged me to take his mind off of his feelings for Atlas. I can’t ignore that something there sets him off. That it makes him reckless and self sabotaging.
Blair scoffs with his face still buried in Atlas’ shoulder. “It’s harder to know what doesn’t trigger him. It’s been a long road here, and honestly I just want to move past this.”
I smile and fight through the urge to be defensive on Shiloh’s behalf.
“Then give him time. Give me time with him. He might have more demons than he lets on.”
Even though the two of them look at me with confusion written on their brows, I grab my things and wave goodbye.
This isn’t my battle to fight, but goddamn if I want to be the one patching up Shiloh’s stitches.
My obsession with Shiloh Novak is going to leave me in ruins.
Shiloh takes a philosophy class on the far side of campus from the dorms, so it’s easily a thirty minute walk from The Creamery. The autumn chill has fully set in, the sun sitting low in the sky, hidden behind the bright, colorful trees surrounding the buildings and walkways.
I expect to have to keep an eye out for him exiting the building from where I’m lounging on a nearby bench. A couple of students trickle out, some more rush in, but I know Shiloh the moment he hits the open air.
