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The dog pops up, panting, sticking his head between us as we drive. The question rests on my tongue. No, don’t ask it, it’s not appropr—
“Why don’t you want a boyfriend?” I ask.
Shiloh’s gaze focuses on the passing trees. “I just got out of a situation. It wasn’t great, toxic, and I just want to focus on my job, dogs, and my grandpa for now. Not romance.”
I chuckle to myself. The way she explains herself so adamantly, it’s adorable.
“What?” she asks, her eyes alarmed.
“I didn’t say anything.” I did laugh. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It sounds like a good idea. Taking a break. Relationships are overrated.”
“Really?” she asks. “What about you?”
“Just as single as you.”
“That deserves a high-five.” She holds up her hand, and I roll my eyes before I slap mine to hers.
She doesn’t realize how off-limits I am, how the thought of another woman entering my life romantically makes my body seize and my arms break out into hives. There is no way I’m attaching myself the same way I did in the past. I flew so high, with nothing to prepare me for the trip down, crashing into a burning pile of ash.
There’s no way I will risk that again. It hurt like fucking hell.
“You’re safe with me,” I say. “I’m not interested either.”
“So, friends?” Shiloh asks.
“The most platonic of platonic friends,” I say. I look back again, and the dog’s eyes flutter asleep, subtle snores whistling through its nose. This dog looks like a smaller version of Woody, and it clenches my heart.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, my brows concaving as I read it.
Emily:Finch siblings out on the town this Saturday night. You in?
My forehead tenses as I study the message.
“Why do you look like someone died?”
My lips part involuntarily, and I wipe my forehead. That question, meant to be funny and endearing, is the opposite, but I swallow any response.
“My sister said my siblings and I are all free this Saturday. Suggested we go out. She must’ve talked Mom into a team-building Finch sibling thing.”
“That sounds fun,” Shiloh says, turning toward me, her smile falling. “Are you going to go?”
“I don’t know. Public, people. Emily or Cameron will want to do something embarrassing.”
“You should go. I believe in you. Get out of your closet cave and have fun.”
“I’m very fond of my workspace,” I say. “I don’t get out much.”
“I’ve noticed. Why is that?” she asks, focusing on the road.
“It’s complicated.” I grip my hands together between my legs so she doesn’t see them shake.
“Well, it means a lot that you came with me today. Since you don’t get out much,” she says. “It was nice to have company. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” It’s my turn to blurt when I say, “I can come on your dog walks. If you want more company besides the dogs.”
She smiles. “I would really like that.”
“I promise I’m not coming onto you, though.”
