by Katee Robert
I don’t have it in me, though.
Something’s wrong with her, something she’s obviously actively worried about, and I'm about climbing the wall trying to resist shaking her until the truth pops out.
“Stop staring at me like that,” she says as we walk into the compound.
Today ran long, and she’s been practically vibrating the entire drive back. For once, Broderick had a meeting and couldn’t act the part of chauffeur, and I catch myself wishing he was here to back me up. Sometimes his softer touch gets through to Shiloh where my brash nature doesn’t. I should wait for him to have this conversation, but I’ve never been one for patience.
I follow her up the stairs, biting my tongue, but the second we get into the room, I can’t hold the words back any longer. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
Hurt lances me, made all the more potent by the sheer shock at her audacity. “You’re not even going to hesitate before you lie to me?”
“It’s nothing,” Shiloh repeats. She yanks her tank top over her head.
I watch her strip in methodical movements that I normally enjoy. “You’re sexy as fuck, love, but not even your perfect tits are going to get you out of this conversation.”
“Mind your own business.” She veers past me and heads for the bathroom.
Maybe I should let it go. Shiloh is so damn even-keeled most of the time, I’ve never seen her like this. But that knowledge drives me even more than the terrifying feeling that she’s slipping through my fingers. The feeling that if I don’t do something and do it now, she’ll be gone.
A good leader knows when to push forward and when to retreat, but my instincts are all fucked up when it comes to Shiloh. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.
I follow her into the bathroom and lean against the counter as she turns on the shower. “Are you not happy with the current arrangements? Are you tired of me? Of Broderick?” The question clogs my throat, but it has to be asked. No matter how much fun I’m having with these two, I don’t want to stay in this situation if everyone isn’t on the same page. At least when it comes to enjoying themselves.
I don’t expect Shiloh to love me.
I sure as fuck didn’t expect to slide right into the possibility of loving Broderick.
She stops short and finally looks at me. I don’t think she’s feigning the shock in her eyes. “Why would I be tired of you? Of either of you?”
Whatever is going on, at least it’s not that.
I can’t breathe a sigh of relief, though, because we haven’t solved anything. “How would I know? You’re not talking to me.”
“Leave it alone.”
A laugh slips free, bitter and heavy. “You know better by now, don’t you?” I should try a softer tactic, shouldn’t back her into a corner, but there’s something frantic beating in my chest, a desperation to fix this so I don’t lose her. “If it’s not about me, and it’s not about Broderick, then what?”
“Back off, Monroe.”
“It’s not Iris,” I muse. I saw her and Shiloh joking just yesterday. Their friendship isn’t experiencing any strife. “It’s not Cohen or Maddox, either.” I refuse to think too hard about either of them. Winry claims she’s content enough, and even though the older sister in me wants to wade in and get some fucking answers, I am trying to respect the fact that Winry is an adult and not in any active danger, so she can handle the situation herself.
“Monroe.” Something creeps into Shiloh’s voice, something almost like begging. “Please leave it alone.”
There’s only one subject this woman avoids on that level. The pieces click together in my head, but the picture still isn’t clear. “This is about your past. About your parents.”
She jerks like I’ve struck her. “Goddamn it. You’re like a fucking terrier with a rat.”
The reaction says it all, but I still don’t understand. “Has Broderick been pushing you about it when I wasn’t around?”
“No.”
Well, I know I haven’t. As much as I haven’t given up my desire to rain fiery fury down on her parents if they’re still alive, I’m trying to show some restraint and not push her. A novel concept for me, but I’m fucking trying.
I narrow my eyes. “Did something happen? Have your parents tried to contact you or something?” I don’t see how, but I’ve only known Shiloh a little over a month. It’s not like she’s shared every bit of herself with me; I never expected her to. If she’s maintained contact with her parents, it’s not like she’d shout it from the rooftop, especially considering how verbal I’ve been about wanting them six feet in the ground.
“My parents are dead.”
I blink. “Recently?”
“No.” Shiloh steps into the shower and ducks her head beneath the spray. She washes systematically while I consider everything she has and hasn’t said.
It doesn’t make sense.
I’m missing something, something important.
I bite my tongue and strive for something resembling patience as Shiloh finishes her shower and turns off the water. She steps out and grabs a towel, very pointedly not looking at me.
“Shiloh.”
“Monroe, I swear to the gods—”
“I love you.” I don’t exactly mean to say it, but the words pop into existence between us all the same.
“What?” She stares at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.
“I love you,” I repeat, stronger this time. “I want you to be happy and healthy and safe, and right now something is wrong, and it’s worrying me because you won’t tell me what it is. Even if I can’t fix it…” I drag in a breath. Fuck, but being vulnerable is hard. “Even if I can’t fix it, I don’t want you to be going through shit alone. I’m here. Broderick is here.” The next part is harder. “If you’re not comfortable talking to me, then at least talk to him.”
“Monroe,” Shiloh breathes. She pads to me and cups my face with one hand. “Say it again.”
No misunderstanding the command. I lick my lips. “I love you.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Of course I mean it. I’m a bitch, but I don’t throw around words like that without meaning them.”
Her smile is almost sad. “I love you, too.”
“Why are you saying it like you’re apologizing to me?”
She pulls me into a hug that steals my breath. Her next words finish the job. “Would you like to see the house where I grew up?”
Chapter 28
Shiloh
The past two weeks have been agony. The closer I get to Monroe—the more comfortable I get with this new relationship with Broderick—the worse I feel about keeping something so important from them. It’s not just that I’m an Amazon; or, rather, I was. It’s that the current queen has painted a target on my chest.
She hasn’t said a single word to me since the last time, but the threat is there every time she’s in the room. The only thing that’s stayed her hand is Monroe’s obvious affection for me and the fact I’ve kept the truth about my past to myself.
But it feels like lying.
More, I can barely contain my flinch every time Monroe talks about her mother or mentions something about children. It’s not that I want to be pregnant; I stand by the choice I made at nineteen and have no regrets about making it. It’s more that Monroe’s beliefs about the Amazons are just flat-out false.
Maybe they really do revere children. Maybe they really do protect them.
Or maybe it’s all bullshit, a lie fed to her by her mother. Of course she was protected as heir. Monroe has never been expendable a day in her life. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have the truth of her helplessness drilled into her going back as far as she can remember.
It’s not that I want her to feel that pain.
I just…
Maybe I really am selfish. As soon as I offer to show her my childhood home, I want to take it back. Why am
I so willing to hurt her just to take this strange load of guilt off my shoulders?
She loves me.
I love her.
Gods, when did that happen?
Movement draws my gaze as Broderick leans against the doorframe. His blue eyes flick over us. “Everything okay?”
“Shiloh’s going to take us to her childhood home in the morning,” Monroe says, cutting off any chance I have of changing my mind. For better or worse, I’m committed now. The truth will come out tomorrow.
He doesn’t move, though he tenses the slightest bit. “I’ll clear my schedule.”
There’s no point in telling him he doesn’t have to come. Broderick has been very, very careful not to push me for more details about my past, has been so fucking respectful when it comes to how self-conscious I am about my scars. He takes every single opportunity he can to reassure me without words that he wants me, that he cares.
I love Broderick.
This realization has a softer touch than the one about Monroe. That felt like being hit with a tidal wave. This is freshly falling snow. I’ve been falling in love with Broderick from the moment I met him. Two weeks of sharing a bed, of having each other over and over again, has only solidified it into a truth. This man holds half my heart.
Monroe holds the other half.
I don’t know what to do with that knowledge, so I set it aside. Tomorrow, things will fall out where they may. I don’t know if the truth will change things between the three of us, but we don’t have a shot at a real future as long as I’m lying to them, even by omission.
Broderick crosses to us and wraps his arms around both of us. “Thank you for trusting us with this.”
Against all reason, tears prick my eyes. I close them, but it doesn’t help. A single tear slides free. “Things have been so damn good the past two weeks. I’m afraid of that ending.”
Monroe nuzzles my neck. “There isn’t a single thing you could do to ruin us, Shiloh. Trust that.”
If we’re going to have this conversation, we might as well have it. I take a deep breath and open my eyes. “What about you two?”
Monroe leans back, expression carefully blank. “What about us?”
“Don’t play coy. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You and Broderick have gotten along great the past two weeks.”
“So?” She doesn’t draw back, but she’s also not looking at him.
Broderick’s arms have gone tense around us, but he doesn’t pull away. “That’s complicated.”
“Now who’s lying?” I push slowly away from them. “You two like each other. More than like.”
Monroe shakes her head. “Let’s not get hasty. He doesn’t want me dead, but that’s hardly putting us in the realm of like or more.”
Or more.
I stare at her, my chest aching. She’s so fucking tough, so brazen and brash and in everyone’s face. Does she do it so they won’t realize what a tender heart she has beneath all that armor? A heart Broderick has obviously touched, even if he’s not aware of it.
I turn to him. “We work as a throuple.”
For once, Broderick doesn’t bother giving me the runaround. “Yeah, we do.”
“We’ll continue to work as a throuple.”
Monroe wraps her arms around herself and looks away. “Only for this year. I’m the Amazon heir. Next Lammas, I go back to my faction and stay there. Even if there were someone else for the role, it’s mine by right, and I won’t shy away from that responsibility. No matter what I feel.”
Broderick shifts away from her, just a bit. “I’m Abel’s second-in-command. The Raider faction is where I’m needed.” He glances almost guiltily at Monroe. “I realize that’s making a lot of assumptions about what you’d want, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. You’re needed there, and I’m needed here.”
Horror takes root inside me as they both turn in my direction. “You’re going to make me choose.”
“We’d never ask that of you,” Monroe says.
“But the fact remains that one of you will stay and one of you will go, and I lose no matter where I end up.” My stomach dips alarmingly, and my head goes a little fuzzy. “What kind of choice is that?”
Broderick shifts. “Look, it’s ten months and change away. A lot can happen in that amount of time, and this thing might very well run its course. There’s no point in borrowing trouble. It’s working right now, with the added bonus of it getting both our respective leaders off our backs and removing us from danger.”
If I already love both of them at this point, how much more is it going to hurt in another month, two, ten? When this thing reaches its inevitable conclusion, one of them will rip out half of my still-beating heart and take it with them.
I have been at Broderick’s side for nearly ten years. I can’t imagine not being in his proximity. It’d be like losing a vital piece of myself.
But… Monroe has become so fucking important to me. She has no preconceived notions when it comes to who I am. I feel like she sees me in a way no other person does, brings out parts of me that I didn’t even know I had.
I skirt around Broderick and walk out of the bathroom and into the closet. It’s become a mishmash of the three of ours clothing and items, Monroe’s spilling over mine and Broderick’s the same way she spills over us in real life, touching every part of my life and making it hers.
My throat is so tight, I can barely breathe.
Maybe it will all be for nothing. All this worrying about the future and things will end tomorrow when they learn the truth. Broderick might be getting along fine enough with Monroe right now, but he has such strong opinions about the other factions. They’re his enemies.
Will he see me as an enemy once he knows I grew up as an Amazon?
And Monroe?
No matter how she feels about me, she’s not going to thank me for shining the light on the seedy underbelly of the Amazon faction that she doesn’t seem to realize exists. For such a savvy woman, she has an intense lack of perception when it comes to certain elements. I don’t know if her mother intentionally keeps these things from her, but Aisling’s two interactions with me seem to indicate that’s the case.
I yank on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt that I only realize is Broderick’s when it hits me at mid-thigh. I turn and jump to find him behind me. “You’ve got to stop lurking in doorways. It’s creepy.” The joke comes out flat.
Broderick doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward and pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly. “I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but I’m really fucking grateful to be in it all the same.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “I don’t think we would have ever become more than friends without Monroe involved.”
That’s the other thing I’m worried about, the one I can barely give voice. I wrap my arms around him and hug him back. “What if we don’t work without her?” Broderick tenses, but I keep going. “What if she and I don’t work without you? Have either of you thought of that?”
He hugs me tighter. “Yeah. I’ve thought about that.”
I wait, but he doesn’t provide anything more. It almost makes me laugh, but not like anything is funny. I finally lean back and look at up him, taking in his troubled expression. “What happens then?”
“I don’t know.” He smooths my hair back from my face. Amazing how quickly I’ve gotten used to touching and being touched by Broderick like this. It feels so natural, it makes my heart ache.
“Do you…” I should leave it alone, but too much hurts right now. There’s nothing to stop me. “Will you miss her when she’s gone?”
For a long moment, I don’t think he’ll answer me. But he finally sighs. “Yeah. I’ll miss the little witch.”
This is so ridiculous. Why did we do this to ourselves, knowing this couldn’t last? I start to ask, but apparently there is a limit to my need to poke this thing until we’re all in agony. I want to kiss him, to provide the way for us to spend a few hours distracted and happy, but it feels dishon
est considering what I’m revealing tomorrow.
Instead, I hug Broderick tighter and press my face to his shoulder. “Can we have a low-key night? Maybe co-opt the movie room and watch something mindless and distracting?”
He cups the back of my head. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
I want forever.
A child’s cry. I learned a long time ago that childish fantasies have no place in the real world. The real world is rough and horrible and all too cruel. Even in love. Maybe especially in love.
Monroe comes into the closet a few minutes later, her blond hair wrapped in a towel and a second one around her body. She eyes us. “What’s the verdict?”
“Movie night.”
Her slow smile has me reconsidering my choice to keep things tame. “Let’s watch DOA: Dead or Alive.”
Broderick releases me with a laugh. “You would want to watch that movie. It’s all tits and ass and half-naked women.”
“Exactly.” She drops the towel and pulls on a pair of Broderick’s gym shorts and a tank top that I’m nearly certain is mine. “It’s also about the power of lady friendship and also the dad is super supportive of his daughter’s sexuality. You can’t tell me that’s not progressive, especially for its time.”
I blink. “That movie is entirely fan service. Just like the video game.”
“It can be both. Goodness, you two, expand your horizons.” She pulls the towel off her head and gives her hair a shake. “Though I’m willing to take other suggestions if you have them.”
“After that argument? No way.” I find myself smiling, some of my stress abating. I can do this. I can focus on the here and now and leave the future to the future. If it means I have to squirrel away every little memory I can to hold against the moment when we inevitably fall apart, then that’s what I’ll do.
It takes us a little time to get dinner squared away, but then we head into the movie room, carting along a wide array of what Monroe insists are vital movie-watching snacks. She was incredibly put out that we didn’t have Milk Duds stashed in the kitchen, but we made do with popcorn, hot tea, cookies, and some licorice.
