“Then she shouldn’t have been his selection. Better that he get Matteo or Winry.” She stops and makes a face. “Maybe not Winry.” Shiloh shakes her head. “None of this addresses the fact that you don’t have a say in who I sleep with, Broderick. And if you’re determined to avoid Monroe and pretend Lammas never happened, then you don’t have a say in what she does, either.”

The fact that Shiloh isn’t going to leave me alone.

Monroe’s words echo through my mind in really unpleasant way. “She’s dangerous. She’ll poison you.”

“That’s my decision to make.” Shiloh laughs, but not like anything is funny. “As for being dangerous, so is every other person in this house. So am I. Or did you forget everything I’ve done since I joined up with you?”

“I haven’t forgotten.” We all have blood on our hands. Every single one of us. Fighting hasn’t been the first course of action, but most of the time it’s inevitable. When we were exiled from Sabine Valley, we lost our claim to anything resembling home territory. No matter where we went, we were always the interlopers, always the one that had to be driven off by whoever owned that space. Often violently.

She searches my face. I don’t know what my expression is doing, but whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t seem to find. “This is a mess.”

Mess is a gigantic understatement. I look down at her, and I suddenly miss her so fucking much, I can barely breathe past it. We haven’t exactly been apart, but something’s changed between us and we both know it. I feel like she’s slipping through my fingers, and no matter how tightly I try to grasp her, to reclaim the easy intimacy of our friendship, I only make things worse. “I’m sorry,” I say again.

“I know.” Shiloh looks away. “But being sorry isn’t enough, Broderick. I know being back here isn’t easy on you, but you’re not the only one having a hard time.”

Is she talking about herself? I reach out hesitantly and clasp her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

For a second, I think she might, but Shiloh finally shakes her head. “No. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.” She covers my hand with her own and gives it a squeeze.

We look at each other and it’s the way things used to be. I can almost picture how the rest of the night should go. I’ll offer to pull out a movie from Finnegan’s endless collection, she’ll get the snacks, and we’ll hole up in the mini movie theater for the duration. For a few hours, things will be normal again.