I shivered. “What does that mean? You have to give me more—”
“It means love isn’t enough.” He sighed painfully, stepping over the threshold and dragging me inside with him. The warehouse seemed to twist and moan with denial at what was about to happen in its walls.
“Gil. Don’t.” I fought. I pulled, but my struggle was nothing to him. His strength far eclipsed mine.
I wanted to scream and yell, but instead, I kept my voice low and urgent. “I love you too, Gil. I don’t think I ever stopped, even when you broke my heart. Even now, when you’re scaring me. So whatever you’re doing, stop it. Talk to me. We can figure this out. Whatever is going on can be solved if we work together—like old times, remember?”
I hoped he’d listen. That he’d hug me. Kiss me. Beg for forgiveness and tell me this was a cruel joke or a massive mistake.
But he didn’t.
He kept dragging me toward the stage where his finished masterpieces would stand for photos and critique. A place we’d had sex on. A place we’d bound ourselves together in more than just paint and affection. A place that now held a rope and a gag.
I struggled harder. “Gil...stop it. Stop it right now.”
He stayed silent. His shoulders stooped. His body beaten. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Just let me walk out the door. I’ll...I’ll vanish. I’ll—” Nastiness and spite filled me, mixing with my pleas. “I’ll disappear like you did all those years ago. You’ll never have to see me again.”
He caught my gaze as he slowed to a stop and held me prisoner by the podium. “The thought of never seeing you again shatters what’s left of me.”
“Then don’t—”
“I don’t have a choice, Olin! I never had a choice.”
“You do! Everyone does.”
“Not everyone.” He pulled me into him, smothering me in another bone-crushing hug. A hug I’d wanted once upon a time but now squirmed to be free from. He kissed my temple, his entire body trembling in despair. “I love you now and always, O. You were the only one I wanted. The only one who owned me. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
Tears leaked down my cheeks. “Gil...please.”
“I love you. But I can’t save you.” He pulled back, his own tears glittering in his gaze. “I tried, and I failed. That’s how fucking pathetic I am. How useless.”
“You’re not useless.”
“I failed everyone.”
“That’s not true.” My gaze danced over the warehouse, looking for freedom. “Stop saying that.”
“It is true. And I’m about to let you down all over again.”
“Please.” I reached for him. To hit him, kiss him, try to knock some sense into him. “Why are you doing this? What the hell is so important that you’d allow that bastard to turn you into a killer?”
His eyes were endlessly sad, eternally broken. “She is what’s important. The only thing that matters.”
“Who? Who is important?”
“Olive.”
My heart stopped beating.
Olive.
So he was dreaming of another O.
Another love called Olive.
Olive!
Pain I’d never felt before slithered through me. My voice was barely audible. “Who’s Olive, Gil?”
He grimaced and shrugged as if he’d already hammered the nails into his own coffin. “It doesn’t—”
“It. Fucking. Matters!” My voice resonated with more rage than I’d ever shown. “You owe me that at least. You owe me the fucking truth, Gilbert Clark.”
He inhaled, shuddering. “Olive is...” He couldn’t look at me. “Olive is my daughter.”
White noise stole me.
The ground was no longer stable.
Daughter.
He has...a daughter?
A moan of pure tragedy escaped me.
“I’m so sorry, O.” Dragging me into him, he kissed my forehead. A slash of liquid appeared on his cheek, entrapment wrapping him in an unwinnable nightmare. “That bastard has my daughter.” His voice cracked again, his head bent. “He has my own flesh and blood. My utmost responsibility. But he’ll trade...your life for hers.”
Every extremity turned to stone. How did he have a daughter? When did this happen? How and who with? Questions crowded my tongue but fear made me weak. “Why didn’t you tell me—”
“I couldn’t.”
“You could! She’s your child! The police—”
“Aren’t capable of helping. I’m past their help now.”
“Let me go. I’ll—”
“I can’t.” Another glitter of grief on his cheek. “I can’t let you go. I’m so sorry, owl.”
His despair turned to ruthlessness.
His love turned to coldness.
He kissed me one last time...and bent to grab the rope.
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Pre-Order THE LIVING CANVAS
The Final Conclusion to Gil & Olin’s Story.
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“Must be brave, stubborn, and impervious to the tempers of loved ones.” The first line hissed with history.
“Hours are endless, pay is non-existence, quitting absolutely forbidden.”
The second line ached with truth.
“Able to function on no sleep, refrain from running when times get hard, and be more than just a canvas but a lover.”
The third thrummed with honesty.
“Other attributes required: forgiving, opinionated, and not afraid to tell me when I’m wrong. Must also enjoy being touched and kissed at any time of my choosing.”
The fourth glowed with promise.
“Call or email ‘YOUR HEART, HIS SOUL’ if interested in applying.”
The final made my future unfold.
The advert was so similar to one I should never have applied for.
A twist of fate that brought two destined people back together.
A job I would take in a heartbeat if the employer could offer such terms.
But I wasn’t free.
Neither was Gil.
Therefore, my interview could never happen.
PRE-ORDER HERE
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The Living Canvas
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