Fractured Sky (Tattered & Torn #5)(67)

Tossing the towel into the hamper, I moved to the bed. The shower switched on, and the sound was like a cascade of bullets hitting my chest. I groaned as I slipped between the sheets and collapsed against the pillows.

I listened to the symphony of agony, taking note of every change in tenor. When something interrupted the water. When it switched tempo. And, finally, when it stopped altogether.

A blow-dryer switched on. I pictured that cascade of brown and gold as Shiloh dried her hair. Saw how the fairer strands caught the light as if she were right in front of me.

The hair dryer went silent. My gut tightened as I waited. One minute bled into the next, and I started to wonder if Shiloh had reconsidered when a soft knock sounded on my door.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Shiloh filled the space. She wore navy plaid sleep shorts and that damned t-shirt that hung off her shoulder, the one that was so threadbare I could see the curves beneath it.

“Hi,” she said softly.

I pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed.

She paused for a moment and then started towards me. Climbing into the bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin, her hands trembling slightly.

I turned onto my side to face her. “Hey, you don’t have to stay in here.” It killed me that I might be the source of any kind of distress for her.

Shiloh shook her head and shifted so she was looking at me. “I want to. I just…it’s new. I’m not good with new.”

My fingers linked with hers. “I’m not always good with new either. I like my routine. Being in control.”

She turned so that she fully faced me. “I have that same need for control.”

“I think it’s a given with what we’ve been through.”

Shiloh’s expression softened. In the past, I might’ve mistaken a look like that for pity, but I knew now that it was empathy, understanding. Her hating that I’d been through something like that. Her thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. “I want to understand better.”

I searched her face. “What part?”

I felt a tightening in my chest that I couldn’t deny. It wasn’t something I’d talked about. I’d testified at my stepfather’s trial, but other than that, I didn’t go there.

Her thumb kept stroking my skin. “Everything.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover.”

Shiloh stared down at our joined hands. “Did you have anyone on your side?”

It wasn’t a question I’d expected. Usually, people wanted to know the sinister details: How my stepfather had hidden his true nature for all those years. How awful prison had been. But not Shiloh. She still had hope—a prayer that I wasn’t alone.

“The first day I was there, I got shivved.”

Shiloh let out a soft gasp.

“My stepdad paid the guy to do it. To welcome me.”

“Ramsey…”

I pressed on, wanting her to understand. “That kind of thing happened a lot in the time I was there. It makes it hard to trust anyone because you never know who might be on the payroll or who would be open to some cold hard cash lining their pockets. It’s why I’ve always had a hard time letting people onto my land.”

Shiloh’s fingers tightened around mine. “I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more than I hate that man.”

“Don’t bring that into your heart. Not for me.”

Her eyes glistened in the low light of the room. “You were totally alone. I hate him for that.”

“Not completely. I had a cellmate. Gaines. We had each other’s backs.”

Something in her eased at that knowledge. “What was he like?”

“Had an obsession with those snack cakes. All of his commissary money went to that. I swear the guy existed on sugar alone while he was inside.”

The corner of Shiloh’s mouth lifted. “You’re not a fan of snack cakes?”

I couldn’t hold back my grimace. “They taste like chemicals.”

“Delicious chemicals.”

I chuckled. “You sound like Gaines.”

“I’m glad you guys had each other.”

“Me, too. And the second year, we got Lor.”

Shiloh pushed up higher on the pillows. “You met Lor in prison?”

“She ran a program where we trained wild horses.”

That soft expression returned to Shiloh’s face. “She helped you find your gift.”

“She did.” Those hours with Lor and the horses were my only true refuge during my time in prison. The only time I could let my guard down for a moment. Because with the horses, you had to. They could sense when you had your walls up. You had to let them see everything to gain their trust.

I shifted closer to Shiloh. “I won’t lie. It was hell.” I felt the crack of my ribs as a guy on our block slammed his foot into my gut. The slice of the shiv on my first day. The swelling of my face from another beating.

Shiloh’s grip on my hand tightened. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.”

Her eyes flared. “Why?”

“Because it led me here. It gave me the horses. Made me see the truth about life. When you see the darkness, it makes you appreciate the light.”

Shiloh stilled. “That’s how I feel about the sky.”