on my skin since I had my portrait painted. “I think it’s too much. The water looks out of place.”
“No,” he disagrees. “They match your eyes perfectly.”
The water fades at the end of the canvas. I chose to only paint from my crossed arms over my chest and up. But every inch of the skin I show is covered in something. “He kept it,” I whisper, my throat closing. I hadn’t looked at it since I drew it over a month ago. “How did he …?”
“Who?” Jasmine asks.
I would have never had the balls to go through with them. That’s why we did this.
“So you know what you’d look like if you ever decided to wear your own art.” He had said.
Tears sting my eyes. “Grave.” I swallow. “I drew this with Grave. He must have taken it with him and framed it.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Alexa tells me. “That was very nice of him.”
It was. “I don’t know if I should shatter it or hang it.” I sniff.
“Definitely hang it.” Emilee shrieks as she rips it from my hands.
CHAPTER THIRTY
GRAVE
ANOTHER NIGHT IN my hotel room. Cross sits over on the couch across from me. “Let’s go out tonight,” he offers.
“Not in the mood.” I shake my head.
“I’m bored.” He stands
“Then leave.” I wave goodbye.
“I don’t agree with Titan and Bones, but this isn’t good for you either, Grave. It’s been over a week. You need to get out.”
No, I don’t. Too much temptation. Drugs, women. I don’t want either of them at the moment.
“What if I called some girls and had them come here?” He pulls his cell out of his pocket.
“Then you better get your own hotel room.”
He sighs and falls back down onto his ass.
A cell starts vibrating, and I look at the coffee table. It’s mine. I look at Cross. He looks at me, and after a second, he growls, reaching forward and picking it up.
“It’s a message,” he states.
“Yeah? Tell them to fuck off.”
His eyes meet mine. “That’s not the response you’re going to want to give.”
“Why’s that?” I can only imagine my brother texting me to get my ass to Kingdom. Again. He only sends me about five a day. For someone who gave me an ultimatum, he sure does want me back at Kingdom awfully bad.
“Because it’s April. And she received her drawing.”
“What?” I jump up off the couch and snatch my cell from his hand.
April: I got the drawing. Thank you. That was very sweet of you to frame it. I have plans tonight, but I was wondering if we could have dinner this weekend? If you’re not busy, I’d like to talk.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
GRAVE
WHEN I WAS in high school, I stole a motorcycle off the showroom floor and took it for a joyride. I lost control going into a sharp turn and ended up driving it right off a bridge into the lake. I managed to crawl out and make it home. My father just happened to have been home at the time. He beat the shit out of me. I was in a coma for a week due to his hands. I’m not sure if the fractured femur and broken arm were due to him or my wreck.
But by the time I was released from the hospital, my father had pulled some strings and got me cleared. No arrest. I should have just done the time. He never let me forget what he did for me. Then he beat me some more. Said that I deserved to know what hell felt like. What he didn’t know was that I was already living in hell. And that’s why I did what I did, to feel alive.
That’s what April is to me. My hell. I knew all along it would end just like that day I stole the motorcycle. It was going to ruin me when she realized who I was and that she’d be better off without me.
I bring my car to a stop in her driveway and let out a long breath. I accepted her offer to dinner. I wasn’t going to pass up any chance of seeing her, even if it makes it harder to go without her tomorrow.
I exit my car and walk up to her door. Knocking twice, I wait for her to answer. I’m nervous. For once in my life I’m ashamed of who I am. But I know I can be better. For her. For us. I just need the chance to prove that to her.