them were of Death.
I'd painted them long before I knew Nick had a name - or a few names. Back then, he'd been nothing more than a drug-induced hallucination who'd come to my rescue when I needed him most. Now, I couldn't help but think that Luke, Sam, Bel, and Ron should be in the background of them. Nick may have been the one who stepped through the veil to help me, but only because Luke was handling the angel who wanted to see me dead. Sam had been covering them both. Back then, Bel had been sleeping, drained by angels, with no way to get enough aether to wake back up. And my sweet Ronwe had been sitting in his room in Hell, thinking up bigger and better ways to do everything.
This was clearly my room, but it wasn't where I belonged. All of my clothes were stored in drawers beside Nick's. I didn't want to move out of his space. But at the same time, I also didn't want to make the others feel like he always came first. Maybe chronologically, but that didn't mean I loved him more. If it had been Luke who leaned through the veil to help me...
Nope. Scratch that. No, if it had been Luke, then I would've lost my shit. I'd been mind-fucked to hate angels back then. Now, if it had been Sam? How would all of this be different if the lips beneath the hood had been the color of a stormy dawn instead of moonlight on water? Would we have still ended up in the same place?
I was staring in the mirror over the long dresser when Nick tapped gently at the door. "Looking for something?" he asked.
Make or break time. "I was thinking about moving my things in here so you could have your own space. I mean, since I know how this thing with all of us works now."
"Sia..." he breathed, stepping into the room just to close the door behind him. "You don't have to do that."
In the pit of my belly, my guts decided to twist. I really didn't want to do this to him. I also didn't want to not do this for the others, and I couldn't figure out a way to make it all work out evenly unless I had my own space. Slowly, I turned to face him.
"I kinda do," I finally said.
In two strides, he crossed the room, his hands cupping both sides of my face. "You don't. It doesn't matter who's in my bed, you're always welcome." His dark eyes shifted from one of mine to the other. "Dove, I like you there."
"I like being there too, but how does Luke feel about that?"
He opened his mouth, paused, and then let it out in a sigh. "You don't want me to be with him?"
"That's not what I said. The problem is that Luke and me? We can't happen. Luke has made that clear." I reached up to press my palm over his seal. "Nick, it's not you. It's that. Luke doesn't want me walking in on you having sex with him! And all of my clothes are in your room. Everything of mine. If I need to take a shower, I'm going to interrupt, and that's just not fair. You deserve the exact same respect that I'd want for myself."
"I can use his room," he offered. "No need for you to worry about it, and Sam won't care. See? You don't need to move out, Sia."
But I knew it wasn't that easy. "I still do."
His head just jiggled back and forth as he tried to refuse that. "What did I do?"
"Nothing!" I assured him.
"Is this because I've been spending so much time with men?" he asked, a hint of pleading in his question.
"No!" And I stepped into him, pressing my face against his chest. "It has nothing to do with that. I wanted you to figure it out, and I'm honestly glad that you have. No, Nick. It's more that I'm trying to be everyone's girlfriend, and I can't do that if I live with you. I mean, in your room instead of my own."
"But this is supposed to be your studio," he said softly. "We were going to rip out the carpet and put in tile so we could clean the paint, and buy you dozens of easels and too many canvases." His thumb swept across my cheek. "And Luke asked me to transfer the house to you