This might very well be the push he needs to get the hell out of here, and there’s a part of me—the part that hasn’t been all twisted up by the ghosts that walk the streets here—that wants to tell him to go, run, get as fucking far away as possible.

Because I’d hate for him to ever become like me. Far more than I’ve ever hated the thought of what could happen, should he stay.

But in the end, I am what I’ve always been. Nothing less. Nothing more.

Selfish.

Weak.

Hopeless.

I clear my throat. “Nah, man. It’s getting better. It’s just...I guess it’s really fucking hard sometimes to forget what I...witnessed, you know? Growing up around here and all.” I search his eyes. “It almost feels like a house of cards. All it would take is one to send everything crashing down.”

His brows pull in.

I twiddle with the handle on my mug, vision wavering as my thoughts drift. “Just when you think it’s going to be okay, and that nothing can touch you, some asshole will rip the rug right out from under you.”

He sucks in a slow breath.

“But that won’t be you, will it?” I say softly. I drag my gaze back up to his. “Because you’re made of tougher stuff than that.”

A deep frown burrows its way between his eyes. I don’t like the way he’s watching me right now—even more than how he was before. Like he’s seconds away from finally solving some impossible question.

But it’s too fucking late to take the words back. I should have known better than to risk talking to him after a night spent tossing and turning through nightmare after nightmare after nightmare.

But here I am, Shiloh’s number one idiot.

He sweeps my features, before giving an abrupt shake of his head. “So, you get up again.”

For a second, I don’t know whether I want to laugh or slap him. In the end, I settle for a scoff.

“You get up and fight,” he goes on almost angrily, his slight Philly lilt poking through like a serrated blade. “Keep building. Keep moving forward. Don’t let one card fuck up how far we’ve come when there are fifty others just waiting to hold you back up.”

I arch a brow. “Says the boy who never had to hide who he was for even a day in his life.”

His jaw ticks. “That’s not fair.”

“News flash, City Boy. Life’s not fair.”

I drain what’s left of my coffee and make my way toward the sink, all the while feeling Will’s eyes on me. I stretch my arms above my head as I take in the view outside.