Page 112 of Control Freak
My heart beat a little faster even saying the words. Soon, I might have Shiloh’s hands on me.
It was difficult with Cyrus. But he wore gloves, and he warned me before each touch, and the touches were brief and clinical.
It would be different with Shiloh. Good different, I thought. I knew Shiloh better. Trusted him.Lovedhim.
“I don’t know,” Shiloh said. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Holden? After what just happened…”
“That’s why it’s a good idea. We need to hit the reset button.”
“You don’t have to rush it.”
“I know. If you want to wait it out, we’ll wait. I just don’t want this to become an even bigger deal than it is, Shy. I’m already averse to touch. If you’re afraid too, then I don’t know what to do.”
Shiloh let out a breath. “I’m not afraid. Or, I guess I’m afraid for you. I just don’t ever want to see you like that again.”
I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as we came to a stoplight. “I hate that you had to see it at all.”
“I know,” he said softly.
“The tattoo parlor is a safe, controlled space. Neither of us would push too far. My therapist suggested it when I began exposure therapy again as an adult because it’s not as personal. She thought it would be an easier place for me to start. The distraction of the tattoo gun helps too. It splits my focus, you know?”
“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”
I reached for his hand. “I’ll always tell you. I’m sorry I broke your trust.”
“It’s not like I don’t trust you,” Shiloh said. “I just got scared, I guess.”
“Well, of all people, I’ve got no room to judge you for that.”
“Maybe. But you’ve got more reason than I do.”
“It’s not a competition.” I released his hand to make the last turn and pulled into the parking lot in front of the tattoo parlor and pool hall. “Besides, I can hardly be mad that you don’t want to hurt me. I don’t want to hurt you either.”
I parked and cut the engine.
“So, what do you think?” I asked. “Yes or no?”
Shiloh glanced at the tattoo parlor, then swallowed nervously.
“You can just watch if you’re not comfortable touching,” I said. “It would be reassuring to have you there either way.”
“No, I want to touch. If, um, you’re sure it will be okay?”
I nodded. “It’s a controlled environment, and the touches will be limited. I can tolerate Cyrus, so I should easily handle you. You’re way cuter than my tattoo artist.”
Shiloh laughed as intended, relaxing a fraction. “Okay. But you’ll tell me if you’re not okay?”
“Yes. Always. Just like I do with Cyrus.”
Shiloh nodded. “All right, then. I’m willing to try.”
“Thank you.” I leaned across the console and kissed him, taking comfort in the warmth of his lips beneath mine.
Nerves were skittering through me. This might be a controlled, safe environment, but that didn’t make it easy on my nervous system. That was the hard thing to explain to Shiloh. I was always pushing myself. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get anywhere.
It was just figuring out where the line was between healing and hurting.
Cyrus met us just inside the door, shaking hands with Shiloh when I introduced them. He was a big guy—tall, broad shoulders, bit of a belly—with salt-and-pepper colored hair and an all-white beard.
