“I’m not noble.” Some days I felt like a complete coward. One who would’ve done anything to keep her brother locked up.
“You’re pretty damn amazing in my eyes.” His lips brushed the top of my head as he spoke, and I stopped breathing. Just the skim of them sent sparks of energy through me. I wanted to lean in to it. To feel more. Something told me that if I let myself fall, Brody James could make me feel more alive than I ever had before.
17
Brody
I opened the door slowly, guarding against any possible creak or groan. But there was none. I took in the form sprawled at a diagonal across the bed. Her brown hair was in wild disarray, lying across the three pillows she somehow managed to be using. Her face was relaxed, mouth slightly open.
I was already painting the scene in my mind. Planning the colors I’d need. The way I’d make the image come alive and jump off the canvas. I forced myself to push it from my brain. To step back from the guest room and shut the door.
I gave a mental thanks to whoever had invented blackout curtains, otherwise there was no way Shay would still be asleep. And she needed the rest, desperately. We’d sat on the couch for hours yesterday, talking about everything and nothing.
When I’d told her that I wanted her to stay in one of the guest rooms for the night, she’d put up minimal fight. More of a pause before agreeing. I didn’t think she wanted to be alone. And I couldn’t stand the thought of her even two hundred yards away for the night. Just in case she needed me.
I’d sent her back to her guest house to get a couple of things, and while she was gone, I’d placed a few calls. Requests to the large blogs to remove the painting from their sites with a promise of an interview at my next show. I’d never get it taken down everywhere, but the sites with the most traffic were a start.
I headed downstairs, grabbing my coat before making my way towards the chicken coop. I’d watched Shay feed the hens and gather their eggs before. And I knew she’d wake panicked if I didn’t handle it. So, chicken whisperer for the day it was.
They squawked as I approached. “Sorry, ladies. I know it’s later than usual, but please don’t try and peck my eyes out in retaliation.” I chose to spread their feed around before opening the hen house. It was a smart move because when I did, they ignored me altogether and went straight for the grub. I made quick work of gathering the eggs and headed back to the house.
The clock on the wall read 10:15 a.m., and I knew there was no way Shay would sleep much longer. I pulled open the fridge to see what options we had. My cooking skills were almost nil. But I did have a reserve of one or two recipes besides grilled cheese. I pulled out some cherry tomatoes and mozzarella. Heading over to the windowsill, I plucked a few basil leaves off the plant resting there. Before long, I had a frittata rising in the oven, and coffee brewing.
“What time is it? And what smells so good?”
Shay wandered sleepily into the kitchen. Her hair was still in wild tangles, and she was drowning in her oversized flannel pajamas. I fought the urge to laugh. “It’s 10:45, and my culinary masterpiece is what smells so good.”
Her eyes widened. “Crap. The chickens—”
“Already taken care of.” I inclined my head to the basket of eggs on the counter.
“You fed the chickens and got their eggs? Did any of them try to peck you?”
I grinned. “They were far more interested in food. Here.” I poured coffee into a mug, and a little of the half and half Shay preferred. “Drink this. You’ll start to feel human again.”
She sank onto a stool at the island and took a long sip of coffee. “I haven’t slept that late since I was a teenager.”
“You needed it.” Shay had wrung herself dry yesterday. I didn’t know how it hadn’t happened sooner. Or maybe it had, and she simply hadn’t had anyone around to catch her when she fell. “Who in your life knows the truth?”
She blinked up at me. “About Michael?” I nodded. “My aunt. Caelyn knows something bad happened with someone in my family. And Evergreen.”
“Evergreen?”
A hint of pink hit Shay’s cheeks. “I don’t know her real name. We just go by our screen names with each other. We met on a forum thread talking about how to unofficially disappear. We hit it off. For a long time, she was my only real friend.”
“But you don’t know who she really is…” It seemed a little reckless. Divulging so much to a complete stranger.
Shay’s lips pressed into a firm line. “We both know enough about each other to find out the other’s identity. But we haven’t. It’s a respect and trust thing. She’s had her own hardships. I’ve never had anyone understand what I went through more than she does.”
“I’m glad you have her, then.” If this Evergreen made Shay feel less alone, then I was on board.
The buzzer on the oven dinged, and I pulled out the frittata. Shay let out a low whistle. “Why the hell have I been doing all the cooking around here if you can make that?”
I chuckled. “I have mastered this, grilled cheese, and steaks and baked potatoes.”
“A well-balanced diet.”
I pointed the potholder at her. “Hey, there are tomatoes in this. That’s a vegetable.”
Her mouth curved. “Technically, they’re a fruit.”
“Smartass,” I mumbled. My phone buzzed from where it was plugged in on the kitchen counter. I swiped it up.
Carson: Have you seen this? What the hell happened with her?
My blood turned to ice as I read the headline of the article Carson had included in his text. Inside scoop on ‘The Artist’ and how his reign of terror destroyed the art world’s golden boy. I opened the article, scanning the paragraphs. Lara had painted a picture, all right. One that questioned my mental state. She wove intimate truths and convenient lies into something that didn’t even resemble reality. And she hadn’t even bothered to do it off the record. Her name was there in black and white.
It shouldn’t have felt like a betrayal. I should’ve expected this from her. She’d always had a vindictive streak. And she’d had to get one last payday out of her relationship with me. But she’d forgotten one convenient fact. After my identity had been exposed, and my anonymity destroyed in the art world, I’d had everyone who worked for me sign non-disclosure agreements. Lara had just royally fucked herself. And not in a good way.
I jotted out a text to my lawyer with a link to the article.
Me: Shut this down. Then I want full legal action.
I was done playing games with Lara. Done letting her screw me over while telling me it was for my own good. She thought that I would never take action against her because of some bond that, in all actuality, meant nothing. But she was about to find out how wrong she was.
Long, slender fingers wrapped around my arm. “What happened?”
I opened my mouth to answer but couldn’t seem to find the words. Instead, I simply opened the article and handed Shay my phone. She scanned the screen in front of her. After a minute, her head snapped up. “That bitch.”
“I can’t think of a better word for her.”