I wasn’t human.

No way.

I was more.

So, so much more.

And for the first time in a very, very long time...I was happy.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Seven

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

“HERE’S YOUR CASH.”

I dragged fingers through my damp hair, slightly tangled from towel drying and not having a brush. “Thanks.” I moved toward him, hoisting my bag up my shoulder. My clothes were back in place, and my skin returned to bland—vacant of rhinestones and illusions.

I gingerly reached for the envelope enclosing money that would buy me a few more days of roof and walls. “Appreciate it.”

He grunted something and turned away. Just like me, he was clean from any paint, apart from a single streak of navy on his jawline.

My stomach did a little flip.

Stop it, O.

Just stop it.

He looked up as I shoved the envelope a little too firmly into my bag.

“Don’t you want to count it?”

I shook my head, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s fine.”

“You don’t even know the going rate.”

“No, but I trust you.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

I smiled softly, keeping my eyes on the concrete floor and begging my cheeks not to flame.

I shouldn’t trust him?

He shouldn’t trust me.

I’d done something in that bathroom. In the twenty minutes it’d taken me to shower, I’d dabbled in a fantasy that had seemed too real. I’d pretended Gil kissed me that night in my house. I envisioned years of togetherness instead of distance.

And now, I was ashamed because I’d been tempted to deal with the coursing desire he’d left me with by delivering an orgasm by my own hand in his shower.

I hadn’t.

Of course, I hadn’t.

But the urge had been almost undeniable.

Standing in front of that mirror, total awe had shoved aside my wariness and twisted my feelings into something I daren’t contemplate.

I didn’t have a name for the surging complexity of emotions.

Pain.

Hope.

Forgiveness.

I doubted I ever would. But I could admit that I admired him. Greatly. And any wariness and hurt were now shadowed by utmost appreciation.

And a fair amount of regret.

Regret for the past. Regret for not trying to find him when he disappeared.

“You’re incredibly talented, Gil,” I murmured, finally mustering the courage to look at him.

He seemed to have aged since I’d left him to shower. Exhausted smudges under his eyes. His five o’ clock shadow making him angular and unforgiving. “Just lines and fading.”

“It’s a lot more than that, and you know it.”

He looked away, moving to lean against his mixing table as if he needed the support. His body language blocked off conversation as bluntly as possible. “At least the commission is done.”

“So you don’t need me to come back?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t.”

I forced a smile again. “I understand.”

He narrowed his eyes, glaring directly into me. “You need to leave now, Olin.”

I glanced at the exit, then back to him.

I could leave.

I should leave.

And yet...

“Is it painful? To see all that time and effort disappear?”

How did he do it? How did he stand creating design after design, never to see or touch it again once the canvas had showered?

“Excuse me?” His face covered in dark clouds, warning I wasn’t welcome with my hardships and heartaches.

“That masterpiece you did. I struggled to wash it off.” I laughed gently, even though I didn’t find it funny. More like sad. And a little heart-wrenching. “You invested so much time and energy into something unbelievably magical. Only for it to vanish.”

I didn’t mean for the past to enter this chat, but somehow it did, licking around us like mist, making him stiffen and frost to feather over his features.

Gil was beyond talented, and that sort of craftsmanship ought to be recognised—even if the boy ran away and left behind a man with the bad manners of a hardened aristocrat.

I meant what I said. It’d seemed barbaric to wash so many minutes of his life away, eradicating something so beautiful.

“Where did you learn to paint like that?” I asked quietly, doing my best to hide my trembles.

The link I’d had with him was gone. He’d successfully pushed me away so he no longer seemed affected by me.

He sighed heavily.

I tasted impatience.

Felt his annoyance.

The impertinent dismissal.

The closed off heart.

Just like before.

Exactly like before.

My mouth turned dry.

My heart curled around itself in safety.

Before he could reply, my pain exploded outward. I’d asked gently. I’d waited patiently. If this was the last time I’d see him, I needed to know.

I need to know so I can move on.

“Why did you walk away?” I swiped at my cheek. “Without a single word? Why did you let me fall in love with you if you knew you didn’t want me?”

The air turned instantly oppressive.

The warehouse was no longer a building but a prison, and I was trapped with Gil as he slowly unwound his legs and arms and pushed off predator-slow from his table. His eyes flickered with truth but his lips delivered lies. “I decided I didn’t like school.”

“You were almost finished. You managed to stay an extra two years. You could’ve—”

“Enough.” Coming toward me, he kept his chin down, shading his eyes with dark eyebrows. His untidy hair licked his eyelashes, slicing his forehead with black strands. “Leave, Olin. You’ve been here too long already.”

I backed toward the door like a coward. I would never have run from him before. I’d even fought some of his battles for him. I’d stuck up for him with Ms Tallup—the teacher from hell. I’d snuck money into his backpack when he wasn’t looking so he could buy groceries.

I’m not afraid of him.

Are you sure about that?

“Gil...I just want to understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand.” He herded me toward the exit, efficiently, ruthlessly. For every step I took, he took one, hunting me down. His hands remained balled at his sides, his jaw tight and body tense.

He would’ve been insanely handsome if it hadn’t been for the harsh edge that warned this wasn’t a game for him. I was a threat, and he wouldn’t hesitate to deal with that threat with whatever means necessary.

“I tried to move on.” I held my chin higher, glad my voice didn’t wobble. “I almost succeeded. But seeing you again? It’s just reminded me that so much didn’t make sense. You were the one who chased me, remember? You were the one who—”

“I remember.” He kept stalking me, smooth and unruffled—nothing like the wild boy in school. I didn’t think this version knew how to smile or laugh. He’d mastered the scowl and guarded walls to the point it was a physical reprimand.

“If you remember, then talk to me. Let’s go for a drink. Catch up. Tell me what you did for the past few years and how you started Total Trickery.”

“I’m not interested in talking.” The way his voice thickened like a river churning gravel made me hesitate.

My heart raced. I tilted my head. “What are you interested in?” It was a breathy question. A gambling question. Technically, I knew what he was interested in.

Throwing me from his warehouse.

But there was something else.

Something just beneath the surface.

Something he didn’t have the strength to acknowledge.

“Nothing you can give me. Not anymore.” He stopped an arm’s length away. I stepped back, only to slam against the large metal roller door. The clang vibrated through my bones, making me wince.