She stared at her knees, jaw clenched tight.

“Why?” I walked on my knees till I was right in front of her, sitting back on my feet. I gripped the back of her ankles to make sure I had her attention. “Why aren’t you publishing? You have a series already started. Not to mention…the other one.”

“You saw the sketches? Of you?” Her face flushed a darker shade of pink, embarrassment bordering on humiliation. My stomach sank.

I nodded, concern tightening a knot in my gut the way she appeared almost distraught. She’d been observing me so closely all this time. Very closely. And the way she’d rendered me with the wolf, the way she saw me… Flattering wasn’t even close to the right word. Dumbfounded. Humbled. Stupefied. Those came closer to the mark.

“I did. You should be out there publishing these, sharing them with the comic-loving world. What’s going on?”

“It’s not as easy as you think.”

“You can self-publish. You don’t have to depend on a publisher. I mean, you’re already using software to create it in the aesthetic of modern comics.”

“I know.” Her chin was set at a stubborn angle away from me.

“Then what’s going on? What are you afraid of?”

“Everything, okay? I mean, you say I’m good, but you don’t know that.” She raised her hands, palms up, gesturing wildly. She glanced away, now rubbing her palms on her jeans. “Did you read my whole series?”

I hadn’t had that kind of time. And frankly, I did feel a little guilty about sneaking a peek into her tablet, so I’d cut my spying session short. “No,” I finally admitted.

“Sure. My illustrations might be okay, but my story might suck.” Her gaze fixed on the blanket beneath her where she picked at a loose thread. Shrugging, she added, “People might laugh at me and think it’s ridiculous.”

“Violet and Fred going to a cocktail party together was kind of ridiculous.” I squeezed my hands around her ankles, which were pressed together. She was a tight ball of tension, curled in on herself for protection. “But in a good way. A funny way. The way you intended.”

Her mouth quirked up on one side. “That’s just one little part. The rest might be complete and total shit.” Tears were pricking in her eyes now, from complete and total fear. The bitter tang of it pierced the air.

“Hey, hey, hey.” I eased forward, gripped her hips, and pulled her body between my thighs. Even if she was still curled into a tight ball, I felt better with her in my arms. I spread one hand on her back, the other I used to tip her chin up to look at me. “You’re really afraid. This isn’t like you. Not my Evie.”

“Maybe you don’t know Evie.”

I laughed. “Oh, I do. You’re just being stubborn and refusing to talk to me. Our first date and our first fight.”

“We’re not fighting. I’m just telling you that you don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t have all the information, so you can’t just blindly tell me my work is great.”

The bitterness in her voice and the pain in her eyes pierced me with a sharp sting in the middle of my chest. I lifted a hand and cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at me.

“Number one,” I started gently. “I’m not blind. I saw enough to make a good, sound judgment of your artistic ability. And two, I’m telling you that you’re full of shit and you’re better than great. That means we’re arguing. Arguing equals fighting.” I said all of this with the most tender voice I could manage, seeing as my heart was panicking at the sight of her in pain.

Just like that, she shut down again, angling her head away from me to the TV, which was now looping on the home screen of The Force Awakens.

“So what if some people hate it,” I added. “That’s what artists do. They create and share their artwork with the world. Some people love it, admire it, become lifelong fans. Others hate it, trash it, and call it dogshit. That is honestly the way of the world, especially with the free-speech-loving society we live in.”

“I know that.”

“Then what’s going on?”

She heaved out an exasperated sigh. “There’s more to it than just that.”

“Tell me.”

“No. You’ll think I’m an idiot.”

“Well, I think you’re an idiot for not publishing, so it can’t get any worse.”

She scowled deeper and backhanded my leg before clasping her arms tighter around her knees.

“Evie,” I whispered softly, brushing the pad of my thumb over her cheekbone. “Pretty, pretty Evie.” She rolled her eyes, but a little smile flashed before she could hide it away again. I leaned forward and cupped her face, forcing her to look at me. “Talk to me. I’m your friend, remember?”

“My friend?”

“Your best friend.”

“When did we become best friends?”

“The minute you saw the Star Wars extravaganza I made for you tonight.”

Her smile spread wider as she hooked me with those soulful green eyes. But then she sobered almost as quick. “I’m embarrassed to tell you.”

“Best friends can tell each other anything. And nothing will change. Don’t you know that?”

She stared at me for a minute longer, then I saw the shift in her gaze when she decided to confess this terrible, shameful secret. Whatever it was.

“It’s because of a guy.”

“A guy?” My stomach twisted. Acid burned. “What guy?”

“His name is Derek Sullivan.” Annoyance wrapped around his name when she said it. “He was my boyfriend for a while. He’s a witch.” She glanced at me. “Do you really want to hear this?”

“If it affects the reason you aren’t pursuing your art, then yes.” I already wanted to throat-punch him just for existing, but unlike Kylo Ren, I could control my temper. Unless Alpha got involved.

Oh, I’d do more than throat-punch this fucker. Derek Sullivan. Sounds like a pansy ass.

“Anyway,” Evie went on, “we were pretty serious for a while. I really liked him and things seemed to be progressing.”

Gut him with a spoon.

We’re back to the spoon, are we?

Though I was having murderous thoughts of my own without Alpha’s homicidal commentary.

“Derek was finishing his residency at UNO, and he wanted to take our relationship to the next step.”

“Which step is that? He wanted to…?”

I couldn’t even say the words marry him without wanting to vomit.

“He wanted us to move in together, but he kept telling me I needed to give up my hobby of drawing and pursue a serious career, maybe look into owning my own business since Jules legally owns the Cauldron and manages it. But I never wanted to do that. He was into social climbing in the coven and all that bullshit, and I wasn’t.” She blew out an exasperated sigh. “Actually, I’m pretty sure the reason he first asked me out was because of my connections. Or my family connections.”

“He used you?”

A dull spoon.

Agreed.

“In the beginning, I think so. Jules teases me for always having my ‘projects,’ as she calls them. I wanted to help him fit into witch society here, so I introduced him to everyone. Including my mother and grandmother, two of the most influential witches in New Orleans history. Their friends.”

She glanced at me, then away quickly. I continued to hold her close, let her know it didn’t matter what that asshole had thought or said or done to her. He was in the past. But I sensed she needed to tell it all, so I waited.

“Later though, I was sure he had genuine feelings for me. As much as Derek can have for another person. But I didn’t fit his ideal, and I was unwilling to change for him.”

“Good for you.” I swept my palm up the center of her back and gave her nape a gentle squeeze. “He didn’t deserve you.”

The satisfied smile on her face did something to tamp down the fury burning in my gut.

“I take it he said more about your drawing than you’re letting on.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “It was early on when I was really getting started into Adobe Photoshop. It was new, and I was learning. He saw some of my first work.”

She twisted a frayed thread on the seam of her jeans, refusing to look me in the eye.

“And what did he say?”

“He, uh, laughed at them.” She yanked the thread out of the seam, then finally looked at me. “Said my drawing was mediocre at best and would never be good enough for publishing. Then he added that it wouldn’t fit into our lifestyle together anyway, so I should give it up.”

I think I’ll cut out his eyes first.

I’ll help.

Yes, brother! Welcome to the pack!

“And what did you tell him?” Yeah, my voice had dropped to that deeper register.

“Nothing. I dumped him.”

I pulled her even closer. “Good.” I blew out a breath. “But since you obviously knew he was full of shit, what’s stopping you now?”

She sighed heavily again. “That’s the thing. I’m not so sure he was full of shit. I mean, yeah, I know I’m good. Like maybe better than good. But then, maybe I’m not?”

That was it. I pried her arms from around her knees. “Come here.”

Stretching out my own legs, she allowed me to pull her sideways onto my lap. I needed her close.

“Listen to me. First off, Derek Sullivan is a total dick.”

“No argument there.”

“Secondly, he’s not an artist and has no basis for judgement on your craft. However, I happen to be an artist. An amazing one, in fact, according to my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend?” Her sweet eyes lit up, and there went that tumbling of butterflies in my stomach again. I swear, the girl made me feel like a heartsick teenager. “I thought I was your best friend.”