Hailey

The colors came alive as they splashed onto the canvas. I started with his eyes, painting them with the sorrow they were filled with that evening. Dark. Mysterious. Brooding but in a soft way. I painted his hair almost Lego-like. The way he’d had it gelled down that evening for the ceremony shone underneath the one spotlight illuminating his body. His muscles came to life as he held the beer up in the air, his jaw set in silent determination while his eyes searched for someone in the crowd.

My brushstrokes were thin. Light. Delicate after I’d painted the black backdrop his body stood against. One by one, his features came to life underneath the stroke of my brush, painting a picture from that evening I would never forget. I could still feel the tension in the room. I could still close my eyes and see the way his eyes were scanning the crowd. I could feel the shiver that slid up my back as his eyes connected with mine, giving me a silent nod of appreciation before he went back to talking.

Why in the world did I tell him I wasn’t there?

I traced the outlines of his body, careful to take deep breaths and keep my fingertips steady. The intensity of his gaze and the chiseled muscles on his body were nothing compared to imitating the tattoos that were exposed that night. I wanted to get them right. I wanted to shade them the way I knew they needed to be shaded. I wanted to capture his essence from that ceremony, the pain that was stricken behind his eyes as he poured his love out for his brother on a stage.

The bravery it took to stand up there and say the things he’d said still held me to my seat in awe.

I’d been in awe of him that night and of every word that came tumbling from his lips. I saw John in his smile and in the way his eyes seemed to focus. I saw John in the way he stood tall, with his shoulders rolled back. I saw John in the way he articulated himself. His brother always had a way of expressing himself that was unlike any man I’d ever come across.

When he wasn’t high, of course.

I lost myself in the blending of the colors as the intensity of his eyes came to life. It brought tears to mine, remembering how lost and saddened he looked while he was regaling the crowd with his memories. Bryan and his brother had been close, that much was easy to tell. But I don’t think I’d ever really realized the toll his brother’s death took on him until his face was fully shaded in.

The sadness in his eyes brought tears to mine until I heard his voice behind me and jumped.

“Figured I’d find you in here.”

My heart raced, and my stomach lurched into my throat. I felt him walking up behind me as I tried to cover the painting with my body. If he recognized the painting, if he recognized the stance and the venue, everything would come crashing down. He’d be angry and upset. He’d know I lied, and he would demand to know everything.

Everything I wasn’t ready to remember yet.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” he asked as he stood behind me.

I slowly looked up at him as his eyes danced along the painting. I saw his jaw clench and his eyes grow stoic, and I knew this was it. This would prove I was at the bar, which meant he would know I’d lied to him. Every excuse and every explanation started to rattle my brain all at once. My hands grew clammy as I set my brush down, and I willed them to stop shaking as my breathing sped up. I blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay as I watched his fingers reach out for the painting.

He’d want to see all my other paintings, and I couldn’t travel that road with him yet.

His fingertips danced across the dried black paint that made up the background. He scanned the painting, but other than growing stoic, he didn’t seem to recognize it. I breathed a small sigh of relief as I studied him, watching his eyes dance rapidly around the painting. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling, and it scared the living breath from my body.

The only thing I knew to do was apologize.

“I’m sorry,” I said breathlessly.

“For what?” he asked.

“For, um, painting you without your permission. I wanted it to be a surprise to you eventually, but now I’m realizing maybe I should’ve gotten your permission first.”

“Don’t be sorry for something like that,” he said.

“You seem upset.”

“Is this how you see me?”

I wasn’t sure what he meant. I looked back down at the painting, his fingers hovering over his eyes. I looked up at his gaze and realized he was locked onto it, and in that very moment, I realized what he was talking about. He was registering the same type of inward pain I was attempting to convey in the picture, and while I patted myself on the back for being able to portray it, I could tell it was bothering him.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The black background. The stoic features. The sadness in my eyes. Is that how you see me?” he asked.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“Well, it’s not a good one, if you’re asking,” he said.

“Why not?”

He picked up the painting, and I turned myself toward his body. He leaned up against the wall and lost himself in it, trying to figure out where I might’ve seen that look on his face. I could tell he was trying to put pieces together. Trying to make sense of what he was looking at. I felt frozen in my place, like a small child hiding from a robber who was walking along the edges of the bed I was tucked under. I felt like I was two seconds away from being exposed. Being forced into a conversation I didn’t know if I could ever have again with anyone, much less him.

I still had nightmares about that night.

“The brushstrokes are light and fluid,” he said.

“You can see that?” I asked.

“Yeah. You can see it in stenciling and shading as well. It captures an emotional truth I thought I was hiding well.”

“Why would you want to hide an emotional truth?” I asked. “It’s your truth, Bryan.”

“Because the truth isn’t always a good and bountiful thing,” he said.

“Why does it have to be good to be worthy of a painting?” I asked.

“Do I seem this sad to you all the time?”

“There is a sadness about your soul, yes. But it’s not constant. It’s there, and I have a feeling it has something to do with your brother, but that isn’t all there is to you, Bryan. I enjoy being around you. I enjoy the time I spend with you. I enjoy talking with you and opening up to you. We have good times together, and that matters as much as the sadness. That matters as much as the darkness.”

“The darkness,” he said.

“We all have it.”

“You don’t.”

“You’d be surprised.”

His eyes panned over to me, and I was concerned I’d said too much. His dark brown eyes hooked heavily onto mine, and his hand reached out to hand me the painting back. I took it between my fingertips, studying him intently as I turned and sat it back down on the table.

Then, I felt his hands crawl up my back before he began massaging my shoulders.

“I worried you would be upset with me. It’s why I hid it from you. I’m sorry,” I said.

“Out of all the things I’m concerned about getting angry over, you’re nowhere on that list,” he said. “If it was supposed to be a surprise, of course you would hide it.”

“What do you get angry over?” I asked.

“It’s been years since I’ve been truly angry, but it’s mostly to do with my brother like you said. My anger. My sadness. It all ties back into him and how my parents process his death. I’ve tried throwing myself into work. I’ve tried cathartic releases of my emotions. But the pain ...”

“Doesn’t go away?” I asked.

“Maybe you do understand a bit. I’m sorry, for whatever brought on that knowledge.”

If he only knew he was apologizing for the same circumstance.

“You help. A lot,” I said.

“I was just about to say the same thing,” he said, snickering. “My relationship with you is about the only thing that helps me to forget for any length of time.”

“I’m glad I can provide some sort of solace,” I said.

“And I’m glad I can give the same in return.”

I felt him twirl the seat until I was facing him. I craned my neck back to find his gaze, and I caught a glimpse of something brewing behind his eyes. A smirk donned his face just before his finger hooked underneath my chin, and I saw his face slowly dip down to mine. All the noise of the construction had faded away over the course of our conversation, and as his lips descended onto mine, I could feel that slow-growing burn in my pelvis.

But there was something else. Something that clenched my chest tight. A feeling that robbed me of the very breath I was taking as our lips moved in tandem with one another’s. I felt my heart speed up as my hands began to tremble. I felt my toes tingle as my knees grew weak. Suddenly, I felt as if I was both sinking and flying. Soaring through the air and falling to the floor of the ocean. Tears crested my eyes as they fluttered open, and I could see my emotions echoed in Bryan’s beautiful eyes.

“I love you, Hailey,” he said.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t think, and I couldn’t breathe. Everything in my body screamed at me to say it back. My heart leaped into my throat, and my fingertips caught on fire. I ran my hands up his chest, fisting his shirt as I pulled his body closer to mine. My head fell into the dip of his strong chest as his long arms wrapped around me, pulling me close to him as his body stepped in between my parted knees.

I was about to cross into territory I knew I’d never return from.

But he was worth it.

He was worth every glorious moment I could spend with him before it all came crashing down.

“I love you, too, Bryan,” I said breathlessly.

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. His hand slowly caressed my hair, pulling it from its bun before his fingers started running through it. The little white lie that started when he first knocked on the door of this rickety shack had grown into something that threatened to destroy us both, and I had no idea how to stop it. I had no idea how to stop fueling it. I was clinging desperately to him as the rift beneath our feet grew to epic proportions, threatening to swallow us both whole as it called out to me.

Liar.

Coward.

Accomplice.

I loved this man with every fiber of my being and with every atom that vibrated to bring my body to life. His arms pulled me close, and I could feel his heartbeat underneath my cheek. I ran my hands underneath his shirt, feeling the sweat from his body as it dampened my fingertips. I traced every single ripple of his abs, feeling him sigh with relief as my skin grazed against his. The flush that slowly crept over my body drifted up my neck, as he began to massage me.

His touch electrified me unlike any man I’d ever allowed this close to me.

“Wait here for a moment,” he said.

He kissed the top of my head and pulled himself from my body. I reached out to him, trying to find his comfort again as he slipped out of the room. I closed my eyes and trembled, trying to hold back the tears of sorrow as I allowed the love I had for this man to saturate every inch of my body.

How in the world did things careen so out of control?

How in the world had they fallen so far off course?

I heard him come back into the room, and I opened my eyes. The gallery was completely silent, and the lights were off, and I watched as he locked the door behind him. I furrowed my brow, confused as to what he was doing, and he turned toward me with a grin on his face while his eyes danced around my body.

“I went ahead and sent the guys for their lunch break,” he said.

“Isn’t it a bit early? It’s not quite noon, I think,” I said.

“I think they deserve a long lunch break, don’t you?” he asked.

“I guess. How are things looking out there?”

“Pretty good. The outside of the building’s done. I can’t wait to show it to you. I’m working on the sign all day today while they move inside and begin painting the walls. You know, after lunch.”

“That’s so good! Oh, I can’t wait to see it,” I said, smiling.

He slid between my legs again, only this time, his hands fell to my waist. His fingertips pressed into my malleable skin as his eyes devoured my presence. I recognized that look. I’d seen it many times since we started seeing one another. I was shocked that he wanted to do this now with the looming threat of someone walking in and seeing what we are doing.

“Bryan?” I asked. “Is this appropriate?”

He lifted me from the chair, and I wrapped my legs around him. I couldn’t help but giggle with delight as his lips planted into the crook of my neck. He pressed me against the wall, and I could feel him growing to life against my leg. I knew what he was wanting to do.

And his words only confirmed it for me.

“I want to experience life with you,” he said as his face hovered over mine. “I want to take it as it comes like you do.”

His pulsing breath upon my lips trembled my jaw. I nuzzled his nose with mine, feeling the way his body responded under the smallest touch of my skin. His hands grasped my thighs, hoisting me farther up the wall before he planted his hands beside my head.

Then his lips crashed into mine, and everything else running through the back of my brain faded to black like the backdrop of his portrait.