I did my best to stop my tears as I finished washing away Gil’s confessions. I tried to reset my scattered thoughts and focus on the monotonous and uninspiring task of heading to work.
Once dressed, I straightened up my place, folded the ruined sheet, realigned the furniture, and found my phone abandoned on the kitchen bench.
It flashed with a message.
A dangerous, deadly message.
And I made the stupid mistake of clicking on it.
Gil: O, I have so much to say about last night. So much that it’s literally killing me that I no longer have the luxury of talking to you. I asked for closure. I got it. I have to be happy with what happened. I know you said you didn’t want to see the video of me painting you, but it’s attached below...just in case. And don’t worry, I deleted the part where we slept together before uploading to a public internet page.
The good news? The video garnered a few positive comments before the haters turned up, and I received an email about a commission. Obviously, it’s too late to do, but it gives me hope that I might be able to resurrect my business when I’m free again.
I love you.
Thank you.
For everything.
Tears welled and spilled as I clicked on the video.
The emotion I’d been hiding from found me, slipping through my ribs with its tiny pitchforks of agony.
It’s over.
How could it be over?
My tears ran faster.
I didn’t have the strength to watch what we did last night. To witness Gil hood-obscured and in his element of painting while I stood stiff and vulnerable as his canvas.
But I also couldn’t turn it off.
My knees gave out, buckling me into a chair as the video skipped forward, increasing minutes into a blur of brushes and colour.
I swiftly transformed from normal human to some midnight, galaxy wearing goddess with power over birds, fishes, and every other symbol of secrecy that Gil adorned me with. I popped against the black background, giving the watcher no hint of where we were.
We were in a black hole, utterly alone and unfindable.
My heart stopped beating as the video suddenly slowed to normal speed, and Gil kissed me.
I watched as I kissed him back. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my hands as I pushed off his hood, revealing the Master of Trickery to the world.
He looked regal.
He looked ruined.
Truth blazed with its own colour on the video. Vicious and vibrant, a hue far too bright to ignore.
How could I make anyone believe I wasn’t in love with him—that I wouldn’t do anything in my power still to help him—when the evidence bled from the screen?
It was so blisteringly obvious.
So painfully real.
No lie could hide it.
No paint could camouflage it.
I was in love with him.
He was in love with me.
There was no end or over for that kind of bond.
Gil had let me walk away because he didn’t have a choice. In a couple of days, he was stepping into a courtroom and might not walk out as a free man for decades. He’d let me go because he felt it was the best thing for me, even with blatant evidence that we were made for each other.
That our bodies weren’t the only thing joining last night.
That our souls had found each other as kids and had been claimed ever since.
I was an idiot.
A stupid, stupid fool to think I could find happiness overseas with new people, new places, new me.
Gil would always be the key to my happiness, no matter what he’d done.
And the fact that he’d set me free showed just how deeply he cared.
Showed that my happiness meant more to him than his own.
Showed that Gilbert Clark had grown up and shattered the ice that’d protected him since his childhood.
More tears rolled as our video kiss hissed with passion and heartbreak.
Everything we’d done last night replayed in crystal detail.
The pain.
The ecstasy.
The realness.
It hadn’t been sex. It’d been a testament to soul-mates, consuming two hearts, knitting two bodies into one.
I trembled as Gil entered me.
Last night, it’d felt raw and violent. A claiming plunge that wrenched my back off the sheet and made me cling to him.
Now, I knew the truth.
I paused the video.
I froze time as Gil’s body joined with mine, and our eyes locked onto each other’s.
The way he mounted me was raw and violent, but it was also achingly vulnerable and intense. The way he curled over me in protection. The way he kissed me with devotion. The way his body worshipped mine with every apology and sweetness he could.
We’d made love last night.
We’d made promises we hadn’t been aware of.
Promises that couldn’t be broken.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
______________________________
Gil
WALKING INTO THE courtroom seemed simple enough. Shoes on feet and suit on body, striding into a room just like any other day.
But it wasn’t any other day.
It was judgement day, and I was fucking terrified.
For the rest of the week, after I’d painted O, I’d avoided all thoughts of her and focused entirely on my daughter.
O and I...we were over.
And soon, I would have to say goodbye to my child too.
Olive sensed my urgency for her to accept Justin’s care. Her suspicious little nature turned into clingy need, wanting to be near me in ways she’d never done before.
And to be fair, I clung back.
I held on for all I was worth because I knew this day was coming.
My days were entirely Olive’s. I did whatever she wanted. I set up a contract with Justin that I would pay back whatever he spent on Olive’s care while I was gone. I even had an enquiry for a commission or two, thanks to the video I’d shared of painting O. I’d told her the truth that I hadn’t shared the part where we’d had sex.
But I had shared the part where she pushed down my hood, revealing me to the online world, and the exquisite agony of our first kiss.
I wanted to show the people who wanted me dead that I was human too.
That yes, I’d made mistakes.
A fucking lot of mistakes.
And I would continue to make them, just like them.
But I was prepared to answer for those mistakes without needing death threats and pure hate.
“You all good?”
I looked across at my lawyer. Brad Scott was a typical lifer in a suit. I’d met him twice now, being open and honest in his office, learning his lesson on how I’d be torn to shreds on the stand. For a crown appointed counsel, he gave me confidence that I wasn’t just another schmuck to half-heartedly fight for.
His face had switched from trying not to judge me for killing four women to curiosity in how it’d all fallen into place.
He trusted that I hadn’t been the one to murder innocence and now had a thin vein of pride that I’d killed the bastard who’d done it.
I was under no illusion that today would not have a happy ending for me, but I hoped he could convince the jury that what I said was the truth.
I had no intention of lying, embellishing, or using tricks to avoid my punishment.
I just didn’t want to have to pay more than what I owed.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” My voice was rough and eyes gritty from refusing to break in front of Olive. Saying goodbye had bled my heart dry. I hadn’t recovered from ending it with O. I’d fallen to my knees losing her, and now I’d collapsed into hell losing my daughter.