The Finished Masterpiece Boxed Set - Pepper Winters Page 0,29

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