“How about both?” If I were honest with myself, I would have enjoyed learning about her, regardless of the topic.

“Okay. Well, I tell most people it’s because it’s versatile and matches my shoes.”

That seemed reasonable, but now I wanted to know the truth.

“And…” I prompted her to continue.

“Well, it’s slightly embarrassing. But I have sensory issues, and too many colors and choices overwhelm me, so I stick with what keeps the peace inside my brain.”

“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Lots of people experience difficulties with sensory processing. Like I don’t handle loud noises very well.”

She laughed. “I’m not sure anyone does.”

“Sonya didn’t seem to mind,” I challenged.

“Well… Sonya is an exception to every rule,” she breathed out teasingly.

She was probably right. Sonya’s life seemed to be a choreographed dance to music only she could hear.

“Fair enough. Why don’t I share something personal so you don’t feel alone?”

“You can tell me anything, but you don’t have to do it because you feel sorry for me.”

“What? No. That’s not what I meant. I realize you have shared a lot with me, and even though I’m not the type to normally reciprocate, I want to with you.” That was more honest than I probably should have been, but I didn’t want to take it back.

“Okay. But only if you want to.” She was so polite.

“I’m a recluse,” I said awkwardly.

She chuckled. “I didn’t realize you were going to tell me a joke. I should have known, though. You said you weren’t much of a sharer.”

“I’m serious, Shiloh.” I didn’t know if she could tell from the tone in my voice, but she stopped laughing.

“What do you mean? You work with the public; you were out at the biggest bar opening I’ve ever seen, and you spend time with me.” She sounded confused, and I could see why.

“Two things can be true at the same time.” Many people thought they knew me based on my radio personality, but the only person who got to see my genuine self was Matrix, and now… Shiloh. “I haven’t gone on a date in three years. I rarely leave my condo unless I have to do something for work. Being alone brings me comfort.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute, but neither did I. It took a lot out of me to say that, and I was having sharer’s remorse.

“Did something happen?” she questioned.

Shit. This was another reason I didn’t tell people things. Because a nugget of information was like an onion. You had to peel back all the layers to get to the core before people were satisfied.

At this point, I could say yes without elaborating, which would be the safer choice, or tell her what had been weighing on me for a while now and see if getting it off my chest would make me feel lighter.

Most of the time, suppression was my go-to. But look where that had gotten me—a life filled with isolation and nothing to show for my efforts.

“My girlfriend broke up with me and took the best part of who I was.” That sounded so pathetic, but it was true. I was a shell of a person pretending to be whole.

When I felt a sudden touch on my thigh, I let out a piercing scream and jolted in my seat.

“I’m sorry.” Shiloh yanked her hand back so fast that she jerked the car but safely righted it. “I didn’t mean to do that. I was trying to let you know you’re not alone.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I do. I’m just jumpy. It’s been a long time since anyone… comforted me.” I guess that was what she was doing, but my mind was already jumbled.

And when her soft fingers brushed against my bare skin in one of the holes of my jeans, it sent my body into fight-or-flight.

“I’m keeping my hands on the wheel.” She had it firmly gripped at ten and two. “But, Caz, please hear me when I say this. You have not lost the best part of yourself. Do you realize the impact you have on people? You can make someone’s day with a wink. You ooze charisma; underneath that tough exterior is a kind-hearted, loving person.”

I was unsure how to respond. No one had ever seen me as the heroine. If anything, I was the smartass who needed to watch her mouth—at least, that was what I had heard for most of my childhood.

Emotions sloshed around inside of me, and by the time she stopped the car in front of my condo, I realized they had moved outward in the form of tears. I never cried, but my eyes were leaking, and I couldn’t seem to stop.

She turned toward me, but I hoped she couldn’t tell what my face was doing since it was dark. “Do you want me to come in or leave you?”

I was afraid to talk because my voice might give it away, but it didn’t matter. There was only one thing I needed right now: her.

Chapter 16Shiloh

Caz was struggling, but she seemed to like to suffer in silence. The last thing I wanted to do was pressure her to talk, but I also didn’t want her to feel alone after she unleashed something so heavy. I figured I would give her the option, but after I asked if she wanted me to stay or go, she sat there, unmoving.

“I’ll let you get to it.” I didn’t want her to feel guilty about telling me to leave.

“Please stay.” Her words were choked, and if I didn’t know any better, I would think she was crying.

“Are you sure?”

She wrapped her fingers around mine, and she was cold, but warmth shot through my core, and I wanted to hug her—to tell her it was okay to cry on my shoulder. But I patiently waited for her next move.

“Yes,” she whispered and removed her hand, but I missed the contact immediately.

She said nothing else as she opened the door. I turned off the car and followed suit. Once we got into the elevator, I could see the sheen from the wells in her eyes, but I didn’t point it out. We rode in silence to her floor and then went inside.

She turned on the lights and looked at me. “Would you like some wine?” she asked as if this were a friendly visit.

“No, thank you. Can I do anything?” Seeing this person, who I thought was so full of confidence, seem so lost right now was heartbreaking.

She stood there, shaking her head, but her eyes were blank and unfocused. I did the only thing I knew and wrapped her in a hug. Standing on my tiptoes, I reached around her neck, pulling her closer. She stayed limp, and I wanted to squeeze her tighter but restrained myself. I read somewhere that hugging someone could boost serotonin and improve your mood. After holding her for a few beats, she awkwardly dropped her forehead to my shoulder.

I rubbed her back and neck to relieve the tension I could feel, but this wasn’t a good angle. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever you’re feeling is okay.”

Her body silently shook, and I could feel wetness against my skin. I was used to being the caregiver, but most of the time, it was for people who wanted to be cared for—that wasn’t Caz. She was uncomfortable in this embrace, with her head being the only real point of contact with my body. Her arms were still at her sides, but I moved closer this time. She stiffened, so I released her and guided her to the oversized couch.

“Sit.” I gently urged her, and she did so without resistance.

I slid to her side and started kneading the knots in her back.

“What are you doing?” she questioned in a slightly accusatory tone.