Fractured Sky (Tattered & Torn #5)(56)

“But I’ve made ours all sorts of messed up. And I just keep doing it.”

“Shiloh—”

“It’s true. I felt different after the kidnapping. Like a freak. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get myself to just act normal. None of my siblings could have birthday parties at the house because I couldn’t handle big groups of people. Our parents never let them go to sleepovers or high school parties because they were overprotective. Even field trips were a no-go if one of my parents wasn’t a chaperone.”

Ramsey’s rough thumb continued tracing designs on my skin, never ceasing. “You know that’s not on you, right?”

My throat burned. “Part of me does. But I was sulking that night. I didn’t want to go to the fair. I begged my parents to let me stay home and go riding. They wanted all of us to go together, as a family. Instead, I blew it up.”

“You were ten years old. Every kid on this planet pouts when they don’t get their way. That doesn’t mean they deserve to be kidnapped.”

“I know I didn’t deserve it, but I could’ve done some things that would’ve prevented it. That haunts me. That and the fact that I made things so hard for everyone afterward.”

Ramsey was quiet for a moment. “You were hurting. Drowning. Trying to find a way to keep your head above water. You have to give yourself some grace for how you dealt with it.”

“I have grace for myself. But what it put my family through? That’s harder. I could handle the kids making fun of me, but they gave Hadley such a hard time, too. Mocked her for not being allowed to do all those things.”

Ramsey’s dark eyes flashed in the low light. “I’m sure it wasn’t a picnic for you either.”

My free hand tightened around the couch cushion. “It wasn’t easy. A part of me wanted normal. But every time I reached for it, things ended in disaster. I’d freak out and run.”

I toyed with a loose thread on the seam of the cushion. “Even as I got older, when I knew the socially acceptable things to do, I just…couldn’t.” The remnants of old frustrations flared to life in my chest, the burn of all the unshed tears gathering behind my eyes. Aggravation for how much I’d wanted things to go back the way they were but knowing they never would.

Ramsey’s thumb swept back and forth across my palm. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

“I’ve never even kissed someone. The one time I tried, I had a panic attack.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Maybe some part of me wanted Ramsey to know the truth. Just how much I’d let that experience warp me. Maybe I wanted to hope that he would see the me beneath it all.

Nothing but silence greeted me. The longer it went on, the more my skin began to itch. Of course, he didn’t know what to say. What did you say to an adult woman who’d just laid that at your feet? I tugged my hand from Ramsey’s and moved to stand. “I’m gonna head to bed—”

He moved then, grabbing my hand with a featherlight grip and tugging me forward. “Shiloh.”

We were close. So close I smelled the scent of leather and pine clinging to him.

I moved on instinct, closing the distance. Then my lips were on his. So damn soft but still beneath mine. Unmoving. That had me jerking away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

He cut me off with his mouth on mine. This time, there were no awkward movements or frozenness. There was only Ramsey and me and a delicious, building heat. I leaned into him, needing more of that phantom warmth.

Ramsey’s hand dipped under my hair, tipping my head back. His tongue parted my lips, stroking mine. My head spun with the sensations. That heat spread to my belly. The tingles expanded across my skin. I lost myself in the taste that was only Ramsey. I wanted to drown in it all.

Slowly, he pulled back, his eyes blazing.

I blinked a few times, my fingers lifting to my lips. “That was…”

The corner of Ramsey’s mouth kicked up. “Better than the best damn whiskey I’ve ever tasted.”

I blinked a few more times, my hand dropping away from my mouth. “I shouldn’t have forced you into that—”

Ramsey grabbed my hand, tugging me closer to him. “You didn’t make me do anything.”

“I made you feel bad for me. I basically forced a pity kiss out of you.”

He barked out a laugh. “Shiloh, the last thing I feel for you is pity.” He bent forward, touching his forehead to mine.

“What do you feel for me?”

Ramsey’s fingers twined with mine. “I don’t think there’s a word for it in the English language. But it burns through me. And I don’t want to ever let it go.”





27





RAMSEY





Kai’s head lifted as I walked into the kitchen, but Shiloh’s eyes didn’t move from the cup of coffee she stared at. She studied it as if it had all the answers in the world. I cleared my throat, and her head shot up.

“How do you feel this morning?” It had been a long night for us both with me waking her up every three hours. Between that and the memory of our kiss playing on repeat in my brain, I’d barely gotten any sleep.

Shiloh worried that spot on the inside of her cheek. “A lot better this morning.”