How Sinners Fight - Eva Ashwood Page 0,69

obviously hasn’t reined in his son’s worst tendencies before now, so I doubt he’ll start tonight.

I try not to look at them, but every couple minutes I find myself searching Cliff out in the crowd, hoping not to find him destroying my art or displaying blown up pictures of my little strip show somewhere. Hell, if he’s really got texts and emails between Brody McAlister and his late wife, he could slap those up on the walls too.

Thankfully, he does none of those things. He seems content to glare at me occasionally in between schmoozing with other guests, like he’s daring me to be the one to start something.

I catch sight of a few other familiar—and unwelcome—faces in the crowd too. Caitlin and her little posse are all here, and I wonder if they were invited by Cliff as another way of fucking with me. Reagan and Gemma glare in my direction as Caitlin critiques my paintings in her shrill voice, calling them derivative and simplistic.

Fortunately, I don’t have time to worry about whether that smug bitch likes my art, because I’m quickly pulled into another round of introductions and compliments from people I don’t know, praising my work. I even talk to a few people who inquire about buying my pieces, but I turn them all down, despite some of the astronomical sums they offer.

Declan was right. There’s something incredible about putting your work out there like this. And one day, I’d love to sell some of my work, but right now, it feels too close to letting someone own a part of me.

By the end of the night, I hang back in the shadows a little bit, watching people still milling around, talking with their friends, admiring my art. I’m still on a high from the entire evening, a rush that I need right now to cancel out all of the other shit going on in my life.

It’s something outside of school, something outside of my struggle with Cliff. It’s something that is completely me, and I love it. I never thought I would feel this good, this excited to share such a vulnerable part of myself with others.

“Hey, there you are,” Declan says softly, coming up behind me. His arms are wrapping around my body and pulling me close before I even have time to turn around, and I lean into his touch. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I can’t believe this is real,” I murmur as he turns me in his arms so that I face him. “Thank you, Declan.”

“I didn’t do much. This is all you.” He grins almost bashfully, sliding his hands a little lower so they rest just above the swell of my ass. Maybe it’s not entirely appropriate for a fancy art show, but I don’t give a fuck about that.

“I never thought I’d be someone who could share like this,” I admit. “But having people see my pieces, study them, absorb them—hell, even offer money for them—it’s fucking amazing.”

“They love you, Soph,” he says, leaning down to kiss me, his tongue gently seeking entrance as my lips part for him.

Just like I love you.

He doesn’t say that. Maybe he isn’t even thinking it. Maybe it’s all just in my head, my mind filling in the blanks and putting thoughts in his head. But in one heart-stopping second, with his body pressed against mine and his lips devouring me sweetly, I realize the truth.

I’m beginning to fall in love.

Not just with Declan.

Not just with Elias.

Not just with Gray.

With all three of them.

19

The show doesn’t wrap up until much later than I expected. Guests linger until nearly midnight, though most of the people I know from school are long since gone.

“The gallery owner says you’ll get the paintings back sometime within the next week,” Gray says. “But if you’d like, you’re more than welcome to take as many as we can fit in my car back to the dorms tonight.”

“I think I’m good.” I let out a little sigh, realizing how tired I actually am. “I don’t want anyone to have to—”

“Don’t worry about convenience, Sparrow.” He laughs. “You just brought this gallery a lot of publicity, and I’m more than willing to bet that they’ll be bending over backward to help you.”

I blush in spite of myself. The past few hours have given me a surge of confidence and energy I didn’t know was even in me. It’s still hard to believe that tonight was actually a success, that people—strangers—saw my work and