Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brooklyn
My heart beat too fast and my palms dampened. It’d been a while since I’d been so nervous to show my artwork to anyone.
Confidence in that area had always been a struggle for me, but the more I worked on my art, and the more praise I received, the more emboldened I’d become. The medium I used wasn’t conventional, and that made me stand out. In a good way, mostly. Occasionally people shamed me for tearing up books, but I picked most of them out of piles that’d been on their way to the trashcan, and since I wanted the words to reflect the mood of my paintings, I read at least parts of each one before using it.
I spun around in front of the closed bedroom door to the room I was staying in, facing Shane and barring the way. I’d claimed most of my paintings were up north, and that was true, but between hoping for a spot in the Golden City Art Exhibition, being paranoid as hell, and having trouble letting them go, my three favorite pieces traveled with me. The other painting inside was my work-in-progress, one I’d started about the same time I’d also started falling for the guy eyeing me like I was straight-up crazypants.
“It’s true that I have a lot of the same qualities as Superman,” Shane said, “but I can’t actually see through walls. You’re going to have to open that door.”
“One, I don’t have to do anything, and two…I…well, I thought two would come to me once I started the sentence, but I got nothing.”
“Baby.” He took my hand and intertwined our fingers. “I think you’re amazing, and I know that what you do is going to be amazing. Just have a pinch of faith, and I’ll show you I deserve it.”
All day this guy had been doing this to me. Saying sweet things that made me think…things I shouldn’t be thinking. Hope called to me, promising this time it’d be nicer; that this time, it wouldn’t drop me on my ass, a broken heart filled with distrust for my troubles.
I expelled a long breath then pushed inside the room. While I faked my way through organization skills at work, in my comfy space, things were constantly in disarray. My room looked like a tornado had recently come through, and I spent a ridiculous amount of time searching for things I could never find, whether it was a certain pair of jeans or shoes or that necklace that never had turned up, come to think of it. “Obviously I didn’t know you’d be coming, or I would’ve attempted to straighten up.”
“Then I’m glad you didn’t know. I’d hate to miss out on seeing this.” He lifted a hot pink bra, and I snatched it away. “You’re gonna have to model that for me some time.”
“In your dreams.”
“Oh, it’s definitely making an appearance in my dreams.”
I shook my head, the smile I failed to hold back only encouraging him, no doubt. I led him over piles of laundry and over to my paintings. “This one is my newest. It took me a while to prepare the canvas, and it’s mostly done, but I want to add a few more details.”
The girl on the canvas had a fierce expression, like the world was coming for her and she was preparing to fight for what she wanted. Blue bled from the color of her irises, down her cheek. Like she also knew it might hurt, but it wouldn’t stop her from doing what needed to be done.
I’d splattered different shades of pink here and there, mostly because I liked the pop of color and thought it proved pink didn’t necessarily mean girly or weak or anything people might usually ascribe to it.
“Like I said, it’s not done.” He was staring at it too intently, and a raw, vulnerable sensation unfurled in my chest, so I quickly reached for the others. “These ones are some of my favorites, and I submitted them to be spotlighted at this big art show called the Golden City Art Exhibition, but it was a super long shot, and I haven’t heard, so…”
I hadn’t meant to divulge that tidbit, and disappointment crept in, leaving my organs heavier than they’d been a moment ago. I’d wanted to prove to myself that I was good enough to play in the big leagues. Thanks to my logical side constantly telling me that not many people made a living on their artwork, following my passion hadn’t been easy. To counter that, I reminded myself that I believed in my paintings even if no one else did. I just really, really wanted other people to, because it was hard to live on an income of zero dollars for very long.
Shane squatted down in front of the canvases, moving to the girl wearing the contemplative look, chin propped on her fist. It was meant to encompass that moment right before a big decision or that beat after you’d made one and couldn’t decide if you regretted it. It was the feeling of being torn between two things.
Anyway, that was what it meant to me.
A lot of my paintings focused on eyes, what with them being the windows to the soul and all. Unlike a lot of my pieces, I hadn’t dripped color down from this girl’s eyes. I figured the moment depicted was either before or after the crying. It was also one of my few, relatively colorless pieces, just the sepia tones from the faded book pages.
Silence stretched, spreading the too-exposed sensation along with it.
“Damn, Brooklyn,” Shane said, his voice soft. “I knew they’d be good, but this is…” He made a gesture that encompassed all of the paintings. “This is where you throw your punches.”
I never thought about it that way, but I supposed I channeled everything I felt into them. If I was happy or if I was sad, or if I wanted to evoke a certain emotion. Mine bled onto the canvas, and I hoped other people would feel it, but I could never be sure.
He stood and cupped my cheek. “I love them. I want one in my apartment, over my bed.”
“Whatever, you don’t have to say that.”
“I’m serious,” he said, his tone and expression completely sincere. “I want one before you become big and famous and I have to fight through the crowd to see you.”
My smile stretched right into grin territory. “Good thing you’re so adept at fighting.”
“Good thing, or I wouldn’t be standing here across from you, about to kiss you.”
Butterflies erupted, and I was in serious danger of swooning. The world grinded to a halt as he leaned in. It whirred back to life as his lips brushed mine. Overwhelming happiness tumbled through me, leaving me light and floaty. Desire rushed up on its heels, anchoring me to this man, this moment. Our mini infinity, where nothing else existed.
I pushed him until his knees hit and buckled against my bed, taking control. I’d never felt so insatiable in the bedroom, especially since every time we had sex left me very, very satisfied.
I straddled his lap and reached for the hem of my shirt. “I think you’re turning me into a nympho.”
A grin curved his lips, but it died before it fully took hold, his attention drifting to a spot over my head.
“What the fuck?” Finn’s voice echoed through the room, and I winced, bracing myself for the oncoming shitstorm. Which was kind of like opening an umbrella mid-downpour.
Shane’s features went deadly calm, and in one fluid movement, he stood and moved me behind him. Like I might need the shield, when clearly he was in far more danger.
Tension snapped in the air, so tight it smothered all the oxygen. “Busted,” I muttered, hoping it’d lighten the mood.
It did not.
I held up a hand, praying it’d be more effective. “Finn, just stay calm.”
“Stay calm?” Shane whispered, like I didn’t realize my brother had passed calm and drifted into intent-to-murder territory. But saying “calm down” had never worked on anyone ever.
Finn’s eyes locked on to mine, so much disappointment and judgment in them I nearly choked on it. “Really, B? You didn’t learn your lesson last time?”
Okay, that hurt. Along with the sharp pain that lanced my heart, it brought my insecurities and doubts to the surface. “I know what I’m doing. I…” I stepped next to Shane and laced my fingers with his. “We…”
“We’re seeing each other,” Shane said when words failed me, “and it’s more than just sex.”
Finn’s jawline tightened, and I grimaced. “Maybe don’t mention the s-e-x.”
Not that it mattered. My brother looked like a bull about to charge, blowing steam from his nostrils, and Shane was the waving red flag.
“If you need to take a swing at me, go ahead.” Shane spread his arms wide. “I’ll give you one freebie.”
I pushed his arms down, desperation filling me—I needed to get control of this situation, and fast. “No one’s hitting anyone.”
“Speak for yourself.” Finn cracked his knuckles as he took a step forward, and I positioned myself between the two of them. Despite knowing the likelihood of this disastrous possibility, I’d dived on in, so it was on me to fix it. As impossible as it seemed, I’d like for all the guys in my life to be at least okay with each other. Instead of even looking down at me, my brother kept on advancing. “I’ll just give him a little taste of what’ll happen if he hurts you.”
“Finn.” I shoved both hands against his chest and met his gaze, pleading with him to listen. “You hurt him, you hurt me.” I glanced back at Shane. “That goes both ways.”
Shane held up his hands in surrender, and then he aimed the next words at Finn. “Hurting her is the last thing I want to do, but if I fuck up, you can take your swing, and I won’t bother blocking.”
I dragged a hand across my face. “And people say girls are the dramatic ones.”
Weirdly, Shane’s words did what I couldn’t—they settled Finn down from raging to a shade under angry. He shook his head. “This is going to get messy, no way around it.”
I frowned. How did he know? Sure, I’d thought it before, but I was giving hope another chance. “It’s complicated, yes. That doesn’t mean we can’t pull it off.”
Shane whipped his face toward mine, the disbelief in his features clear. Was that because he didn’t believe me? Or because he did? His expression softened, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. “With you by my side, we can take on the world.”
My heart melted, and I’d even let out an aww if my brother wasn’t glaring daggers at us, ruining the moment. But when we presented our united front, he shook his head again. Maybe not the ideal reaction, but anything less than swinging counted as a win in my book.
“You’re going to need to talk to Liam,” Finn said. “He already suspects it, and I’m not going to lie to him. Especially since this is going to interfere with Knox’s training.”
Back to frowning, I snuggled tighter to Shane. “It is not. I understand how much time and effort it takes, and I’m not going to get in the way.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Your belief in me is astounding.”
“It’s not your ass on the line, B. It’s his”—he pointed at Shane—“and mine and Liam’s, and even Dad’s. We all need this win.”
“Oh, suddenly I’m not part of the team?”
“You are. Temporarily,” he said, his words hitting their mark and driving the ache nice and deep. I wanted to defend myself. To say that I couldn’t be part of the team full-time because it meant forgetting what was best for me, and I’d never do that again.
“Fine. Temporary or not, I get it. I’ll help him focus. I’ll do everything I can to make sure he wins his fight.” Now that it was all out there, it was actually a relief Finn knew. The relief fled pretty fast as I thought about coming clean to the rest of my family. “I get that Liam needs to know, but can’t we keep it from Dad? At least for a little while longer?”
Finn crossed his arms, his expression unyielding and flat.
And just like that, I had something besides bills to dread on Monday.