CHAPTER NINETEEN
Holden
Snow had started falling while I’d walked Kaley back to her house. It was the perfect complement to the conversation we were having, the frozen flakes freezing to our faces as quickly as her hot tears turned cold. Following Michaela’s advice, I was honest with Kaley. I’d explained that I’d assumed from the beginning that she wasn’t looking for anything beyond casual sex, that her heart wasn’t ready for the emotional toll a relationship could take from two people. Casual had been fine for me, but given my situation, a relationship wasn’t feasible. I’d used Deli as an excuse only to protect Kaley from the truth of why I wasn’t in a good place in life to have a girlfriend.
So, why was it that after walking one woman home with the rationale that I was very much emotionally unavailable, I had another woman on my mind?
Tucking my hands deeper into my pockets, I curled in on myself in as desperate a bid to avoid the cold as it was to avoid thinking about a woman sitting in my studio - a studio that nobody saw. Not even my sister. Those four walls were my space, those paintings were my thoughts. That sketchpad...
I quickened my pace, almost busting ass on the slick roads several times. That sketchpad had Michaela all over it. Reaching the house, I was half frozen, but I brushed the ice and snow from my body as I walked inside and practically slid down the hall. Bursting through the door, I half expected Michaela to be sitting in the middle of the room looking at the drawings I’d dedicated to paper moments before she knocked, but instead, she was sitting against the wall, her legs tucked to her body, her cheek resting on her knees, a tear slipping from her eye that she didn’t wipe away fast enough for me not to notice.
“You look frozen,” she said, attempting a laugh that wasn’t quite believable.
“I feel frozen,” I answered. “Is everything okay?”
Why was this happening to me tonight? Every female who came within five feet of me was leaking tears like a dam had broken somewhere that the male mind was forbidden from traveling. Walking over to her, I leaned against the wall and slid down to sit next to her, my position mirroring hers.
“Everything’s fine,” she lied.
“It doesn’t look like everything’s fine. Did I do something to upset you?”
She swiped at another tear, the tip of her nose red, her bottom lip puffed out where a tiny split in the skin was still visible. Sitting up to press her back against the wall, she swept out with her hand toward my paintings. “It’s just those, Holden. Your art.”
Glancing over, I quickly perused the half finished pieces. “I didn’t think they were that bad-“
“They’re not bad at all. They’re wonderful. You’re wonderful. And we-“ Her voice trailed off, her expression darkening as her eyes closed and forced more tears down her cheeks. Resting her head against the wall, she admitted, “We treated you so horribly.”
Her words stunned me, stole the strength from my voice when I asked, “Why does that matter enough to cry about it?”
“Because it’s destroying you,” she breathed out, still not opening her eyes to look at me. “If anybody in this entire town deserves a fair shot, it’s you. But because everybody who lives here is a self-righteous prick, you’re facing jail while we’re flitting off to college to continue the same tired bullshit there. And once we graduate, we’ll move on to our careers to be just as mean and nasty as we’ve always been. But you - the one damn person that never did a thing to hurt anybody else - you’ll be locked up for the rest of your life when you should be standing in the middle of an art gallery somewhere being praised by whoever praises art. You should be making a mark on history, or culture, or whatever, and half the jerks who attacked you should be locked up instead.”
Her forehead fell to rest on her knees, her arms hugging her legs tighter. “It’s not fair,” she mumbled, the sound muted by the position of her body.
Unsure what to do with her sudden epiphany, I stated the obvious. “I broke a guy’s nose. And that wasn’t exactly the first time. I killed someone, Michaela. So it’s not like I never hurt anyone.”
“Jack deserved it,” she argued. Turning her head so that her cheek was pressed against her knees, she locked her green eyes with mine. “He deserved everything that came to him. But you don’t deserve taking the fall for it. He attacked you.”
Grinning, I had to blink a few times to believe this version of Michaela was real. “Try telling the police that.”
“I will,” she answered with more strength in her voice than I’d ever heard. “I’ll tell them aliens came down and abducted Jack if that leads them away from you. The jerk deserved a good anal probe.”
Laughter burst out of me, her eyes widening in surprise as an unsure smile tugged at her lips. For both of us, the tension had dissipated, our shoulders relaxing as we sat staring at each other. Despite the impossible circumstances, this woman who I’d always thought less of was somehow easing the load I carried. To say I was stunned would be an understatement.
“Why couldn’t you have been like this in high school?” I asked, curious about this evolving creature that was proving to be full of surprises. Her spirit was starting to shine through the veil, making my fingers itch to capture it on paper.
Sorrow filled her eyes. “I’ve always been scared, I guess. Of Jack. Of my family. Of the people who expected me to be one thing when all I wanted was to be myself. I was afraid of being rejected, of being harassed, of being labeled as-“
“A crazy freak?” I finished for her.
Silence fell, heavy and pregnant with her guilt. On a whisper, she reminded me, “I never used those words to describe you.”
“I know,” I whispered back.
Wiping away the last of her tears, she straightened her posture to lean back against the wall. I straightened mine as well, both our eyes now focused on the unfinished paintings on their easels.
Changing a subject that had become far too depressing, Michaela asked, “How did it go with Kaley?”
A deep breath poured from my lungs, “Well, she cried.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“And then she called me a selfish asshole.”
Her laughter was soft. “That’s to be expected too.” Smile fading, she asked, “Did you ever promise her anything more than sex?”
“No,” I answered, leaving out that I’d known Kaley was getting attached. I should have ended things then, but I didn’t know how.
“You’re not an asshole, Holden. The few girls you slept with in high school had good things to say about you, and all of them knew it was only sex. Even then, they said you treated them better than anybody they’d dated, both before and after you.” Her head turned my direction. “The only thing they had to be mad at you for was spoiling them. They never could find someone else who showed them the same respect.”
With my eyes still trained to the paintings, I was all too aware of the way Michaela was staring at me. I couldn’t meet her gaze. I was too afraid of that odd pressure in my chest and catch in my breath that occurred when our eyes met. “You talked about me with people in high school?”
“I overheard the locker room gossip.” She sighed. “Okay, and maybe I asked your sister about you whenever I could. She loved to brag about your art and your music. Now, that I’ve seen the inside of your studio, I can understand why. I’m not exaggerating about how talented you are. It’s breathtaking, even if the paintings aren’t finished.”
Although, I knew Michaela was, in fact, exaggerating, I still felt a small spark of pride to hear the compliment. My art was my voice. It was my therapy and my solace. I’d never intended to do much with it other than create it, but it was uplifting to hear someone besides my family who appreciated it. “Well, I probably won’t be able to paint for much longer, but maybe they’ll let me design some artsy license plates in prison.”
“You’re not going to prison.”
Finally giving up on the battle not to look at her, I swiveled my head in her direction. The look in her eye caught me off guard, a quick shot of something bursting inside my chest at the sight of her. Michaela was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever known - at least on the outside. It wasn’t until tonight that I was beginning to learn the inside might be just as magnificent. The timing couldn’t have been worse.
“There’s nothing we can do.”
“I’m not giving up. And I won’t let you give up either.”
Sad laughter shook my shoulders. “What would you like to do? Run away? Become fugitives? You can be my captive while I hitchhike across the country because I don’t even have a car to use in my escape mission?”
Her expression fell and I wanted nothing more than to see her smile again. I just didn’t know how to make that happen, or if I even should. Delving deeper into this alliance we’d formed would be dangerous for both of us. Going to prison was one thing. Going there after finally finding the woman that makes your heart jump into your throat and your mouth go dry was a whole other tragedy. I would be willing to take the risk just to have five minutes of knowing what it felt like to genuinely love a woman in the romantic sense. But, I would never do it to her. I would never risk a woman’s heart.
“I’m not your captive,” she whispered, her eyes narrowing on me in feigned anger. Damn if it wasn’t the cutest expression I’d ever seen.
What the hell was wrong with me?
This was Michaela Paige of all people and I was sitting here imagining what a future would be like together, including naming the kids. I didn’t even want to think of my other bodily responses. Didn’t want to think how my pants were becoming painfully tight when she hadn’t done anything but look in my direction.
I needed to get up. Needed to run. Needed to get as far away from her as possible.
Instead, I reached out to run the tip of my finger over the raw skin of her wrist. “The rope burns say otherwise.”
Naked heat flashed behind her eyes and I thanked God for my loose jeans and long hoodie. Her knowing the way she was affecting me would have been just one more tragedy to toss on the pile.
Clearing my throat, I said, “We should probably get out of here. You can’t possibly enjoy sitting on a bunch of old drop cloths in a room that smells like paint.”
Lips curling at the corners, Michaela’s gaze returned to my art. “Actually, I do like it in here. It’s calm, you know? Nothing’s happening except...I don’t know. It feels different, like nothing going on outside that door matters. Not in here.” Her head rolled over the wall, her eyes finding mine. “I know I sound stupid for saying that.”
Not at all...
I definitely needed to leave.
“Well, I’m tired of sitting on a drop cloth so I say we head to bed. I have a double again tomorrow.”
Pushing to my feet, I made the mistake of reaching down to help Michaela to hers. The second her hand touched mine, a current of want buzzed just beneath my skin, expanding and pulsing until I felt it everywhere.
Once she was balanced on her feet, I let go, immediately stepping back to place distance between us. “Goodnight,” I said, leaping toward the door to escape like a fucking coward.