Chapter 24
Isabella’s chest tightened, and she pulled away from Chase. “We can’t have a relationship.”
“Why not?”
“My stepmother . . . Delilah. I don’t know what they’d do to me.” She blinked, unable to hold back the wave of emotion crashing through her.
Chase liked her. And not just as Five, the mystery girl. He liked Isabella.
Her spirits soared, despite the circumstances.
“We can keep it a secret. They don’t have to know.” He took a step toward her, taking her hand in his.
“She’ll find out.” She lowered her gaze. “She saw your texts last night. My phone . . . she crushed it.”
Tingles ran through her as he squeezed her hand. “I’ll be more careful.”
The thought was tempting. Sneaking away to see Chase on a personal level. She could easily talk herself into that. But it wasn’t very smart. “Even having you here right now is risky. If Elenore came in . . .”
“I won’t come to the gallery anymore. We can meet somewhere else.”
She bit her bottom lip, wondering if she were crazy to seriously consider it. They could be careful not to be seen together at school or the gallery. “Maybe that would work.”
He wrapped his arms around her, the warmth of his chest making her heart pound. “It has to work. Because I’m falling for you, Isabella. And I need you in my life.”
She closed her eyes, and for the first time she allowed herself to think that maybe she could have her Prince Charming.
Isabella approached Flatwater Park, but there was no sign of Chase at their usual meeting spot. She pried up the loose brick and found a note. She unfolded it. In his slanted scrawl she’d come to love, it said: “I’ll be a few minutes late. Please wait for me. Love, Chase.”
She looked around, stuffed the note in her jacket pocket, then sat on the bench to wait. They’d been meeting for two weeks, in secret, after dark. When she saw his shadowy figure approaching, her heart pounded in her chest. She ran to him, and he pulled her in for a hug.
“Thanks for waiting.”
They sat down on the bench, and she snuggled her back into his chest. He put his arms around her and lightly caressed her arm. They chatted for a few moments, then sat in silence, just enjoying being together.
Chase kissed her temple. “You told me your father was an artist. What did he do?”
“He was a painter. He grew famous for his technique of painting with his fingers. He taught it to me.”
Chase shifted to look at her face. “You don’t use a brush?”
“No. There’s something more organic about applying the paint directly with your fingers. It makes me feel at one with the art.” She felt a blush creep up her neck. “That’s stupid, huh?”
“No,” he reassured her. “Not at all. That’s cool.” He pulled her back to his chest. “What about your mother?”
“She was a dancer.” Isabella pulled out the worn photograph she kept in her pocket. “This is her senior photo. Her name was Emma.”
Chase took the picture and looked at it. “She was beautiful. You have her eyes.”
Emotion surged in Isabella, and tears blurred her vision. “Really?”
He handed her back the photo. “Definitely.”
Isabella touched the picture. “This is all I have left of her, besides the painting of her my father did that’s locked up in the attic. Elenore threw everything else out.”
“How cruel.”
Isabella couldn’t say anything; her throat was too tight.
“How’s your art going?” Chase’s low voice was close to her ear.
“I wish I still had my phone. I would have taken a picture of the latest one. It’s my favorite yet.”
“Tell me about it.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, sending goose bumps over her skin.
“It’s a meadow of wildflowers, a stormy sky above.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I wish I could see it.”
She looked up at him. “Really?”
“Yeah. I love your art.”
She sat up. “Wanna come see it now?”
His eyebrows rose. “You’re asking me if I want to sneak into your bedroom with you?”
She whacked him on the arm. “Just to see the painting, creep.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Let’s go.”
They walked to her house, her nerves sending butterflies into overdrive. This would be the first time she’d shared one of her paintings with a guy she liked. At least, the first time in person. She showed him where to climb to get to her balcony. After they were both up, Chase put his arm around her shoulders.
“This is a great view.”
“My father was a little concerned about living on the edge of a cliff, but I wanted this house, so he bought it.”
“Sounds like a sweet guy.”
She nodded, suddenly emotional. She slid open the sliding-glass door and led him into her room.
“Wow, this is huge.”
“My father let me have the master bedroom.”
Chase walked to her wall, where the paintings were lined up. He pointed to the wildflower one. “That’s fantastic. Why doesn’t your stepmother sell these in the gallery? They’d bring in a lot of money.”
“She keeps saying I’m almost there. That I need to improve a little more before they are ready. I think it’s one more way for her to torture me.”
Isabella tried not to get emotional. Elenore wasn’t worth it.
“You’re more than there. You’re brilliant.” He flipped through more paintings. “You could sell these for more than a thousand each.”
Even though Chase wasn’t an expert in the art world, she appreciated the sentiment and warmed from the compliment.
He looked through her paintings, whistling when he came to one he particularly liked. When he was done, he took her hands.
“I’d better get going. Thank you for showing me your beautiful artwork. Someday, you’ll be just as famous as your father.”
Her heart pounded as he pulled her closer for a goodnight kiss. His kisses always made her knees weak, and her pulse race.
“Good night,” she said after he broke away.
The door handle wiggled, and a pounding sounded. “Isabella!”
Fear jumped into her throat. “Quick!” She shoved him toward the glass doors. He slipped outside and down the side of the house before she could say anything else. She waited a moment before unlocking her door.
Delilah stood there, her arms folded, a murderous look on her face. “Who were you talking to?”
Isabella swallowed. “No one. I was just talking to myself.”
Shoving past her, Delilah darted around the room. “I heard a man’s voice.”
“Well, then where is he?”
Delilah searched the closet and then entered the bathroom. “You had a guy in here. I know it.” She opened the sliding doors and walked out on the balcony. She peered over the edge.
“What, you think he jumped?”
Delilah glared at her. “I don’t know where he went. But you’re going to be in trouble when I tell Mom.” She stomped out of the room, slamming the door.
Isabella tried to calm her racing heart.
That was close. Too close. She had to be more careful.