Page 71 of Control Freak

I wished I could do more. That I could interlace our fingers, hug him, kiss him. But it was only a matter of time. I’d give Shiloh everything one day because I refused to give in to the pain. I had to fight for what I wanted.

What we both deserved.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Are you sure you’re up for this? I realize it’s probably not fun for you. You could be with anyone else and?—”

“I don’t want to be with anyone else,” he said. “We’ve only known each other a little while, but you’re special to me.”

My eyes burned. “Yeah, you’re special to me too.”

“Okay, then,” he said with a gentle smile. “Do you want to get ready for bed, or…?”

“Yeah,” I said, exhaustion sweeping in after the emotional highs and lows I’d experienced. “Maybe we can try again tomorrow?”

“You just tell me when. I’ll be here, ready to follow your lead.”

We stripped down to underwear for me—and nothing at all for Shiloh—and climbed into bed. Shiloh slid under the comforter and situated a long pillow between us. I snuggled into my sleeping bag and zipped up the side.

Shiloh rolled his head toward me on the pillow. “I’m really glad you’ve chosen to trust me,” he said quietly into the darkness. “I don’t want to let you down.”

“You could never do that,” I murmured. “You being here, being patient with me, is everything I need.”

“Good.” He sighed. “It was really nice feeling your hand on mine, Holden. Just so you know. My heart raced, and my stomach flipped, and I felt every point of contact between us as if it was the first time another person had ever touched me.”

“I thought I was the only one feeling that way.”

“Nope,” he said lightly. “We’re in this together.”

For the first time, that actually felt true. I wasn’t carrying this burden alone. I wasn’t fighting my touch aversion—or giving in to it—in a vacuum.

I had a partner now. Someone who would help me slay this dragon that had haunted me for my whole life. I didn’t know ifwe’d succeed, but as Shiloh had said before, it was the journey that mattered most, not the destination.

As long as I was fighting, I was living instead of just existing. Maybe evenlovingtoo.

CHAPTER 18

Shiloh

“We can’t offermuch pay. It’s part-time, and there are no benefits. You could probably make more in tips at Jerkers.”

Principal Sheffield was a straight shooter. She’d taken one look at my Missouri teaching license, my resume documenting my years in the St. Louis schools, and hired me on the spot. Pending a formal background check, anyway, but I wasn’t worried about that. My ex had been the criminal, not me.

“Way to sell him on it,” Parker said with a laugh. “Damn. No wonder we’re short-staffed.”

The three of us were walking down the corridor toward the cafeteria. I could hear the screams of laughter from here. At least the voices were mostly happy. I’d once gotten in the middle of a truly awful lunchroom skirmish. My favorite jacket got so stained with ketchup I looked as if I’d just committed murder.

Which I reallywantedto do. I’d had to settle for suspension.

I’d taken great joy in banning Tommy Schrader from school for three days. The bully was constantly harassing other kids,and finally, he’d been caught…well, not red-handed, but sauce-handed, certainly.

Thoughts of hands took me right back to last week, when Holden had placed his palm against mine for the first time. He’d been trembling with nerves, and I could see how hard it was for him, but never did I feel unwanted. The opposite, really. He wanted to be close to me so badly he was fighting his demons.

Most of the guys I dated gave in to their demons instead. Not that I wasdatingHolden, exactly. But we were something more than friends. The amount of trust he’d shown me bonded us more deeply than any casual fling could.

We’d continued to touch over the past week. We practiced before bedtime, when Holden was up for it. Some days, he was too tired or stressed, but most of the time, he wanted to try for a few minutes before we went to bed. The progress was slow, but I could see it in incremental steps. How quickly he could reach for me and how long he could keep our palms pressed together changed from day to day.

He’d even touched me spontaneously a couple of times. He’d brushed my fingers when he handed me the mayo while we made lunch yesterday, making my heart lurch like a middle schooler with a crush. And a couple of nights before that, he’d grazed his knuckles along the back of my hand under the dinner table.

Such small gestures, yet they rocked me more than the most intimate touch from a different partner.