like the brush has a mind of its own. I get totally engrossed and lose track of the time. I love the unpredictability of it, which kind of feels like a joke given how much the chaos of the past few months has been a burden to me.”
“You feel it,” Dylan said, drawn forward by the emotion he could see in the work. The color and bold brush strokes, along with the unique compositions of the pieces. “They’re sensual,” he murmured then chuckled at the incredulous look she gave him.
“My sisters said the same thing, but I don’t paint like that on purpose. I’m not trying to be provocative.”
“Doesn’t change that they are. It’s not a criticism, Carrie. These paintings express who you are. I can’t believe how many canvases you have with how busy the rest of your life has been lately.”
She moved to stand next to him, ran a finger along the edge of one canvas. “It’s like a dam broke inside me. All those years of not painting. I told myself I didn’t miss it, that I was happy taking care of my dad. But...”
“You weren’t happy,” he said, hating himself for leaving her with Niall. Maybe if she would have gone with Dylan, things could have been different for them.
“I wasn’t unhappy.” She turned to him, her eyes flashing as if daring him to argue. “My dedication to this town isn’t fabricated. I love it here. I always have. Yes, I had moments that I wished my life could have gone in another direction. You were a part of one of those moments.”
“I wish we’d both made different choices back then,” he murmured.
“I understand that everyone wants to think badly of Niall for how he handled his life. I’m not denying that my father was a deeply flawed man who made innumerable mistakes, but in most of those he wasn’t alone. Take the money he gave you.” She laughed without humor. “I mean, you took money to break up with me. Yes, it was awful that he bribed you, but you had a choice. We all make choices.”
Dylan did his best not to wince. He hated the reminder of how much he’d messed up. But not for the reasons Carrie thought.
“I didn’t deserve you,” he said softly, remembering that time in his life. The anger that had overwhelmed him to the point where he didn’t know if he could control the darkness inside him. “You were so filled with light and—”
“No.” She held up a hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like breaking my heart was some kind of altruistic gesture. I might have been young, but I wasn’t totally naive. I wanted you and would have done anything to make it work. You were the only reason I would have found the nerve to leave. But you gave up on us. More than that. You threw me aside for a check. Just be honest. Tell me I wasn’t enough. I could deal with the truth easier than I can manage your placating lies.”
Her words gutted him. Without thinking he reached into his back pocket and yanked out his wallet. “You want the truth?” He opened it and took out the worn slip of paper, thrusting it toward her before he could think better of it.
Her delicate brows furrowing, she opened the folded check. “What’s this?”
“What does it look like?” he demanded, then forced himself to take a breath as her eyes filled with tears. “God, Carrie, don’t cry. The last thing I wanted to do by giving you that was to make you cry.”
“Why?” she asked, her jaw set in a tight line. “Why didn’t you cash it? How come you let me believe you took his money?”
“I did take it,” Dylan said. “Not because I wanted your father’s money but when he gave me the check, he told me that I wasn’t good enough for you. He knew my dad and his temper. He knew the trouble I’d been in and the path I seemed set to go down. Hell, the whole town knew you could do better than me.”
“I didn’t,” she whispered.
“That was the problem. You saw something in me that wasn’t there. I had to prove to you I couldn’t be the man you wanted—needed—me to be.”
She flipped the check around and held it up to him as if he hadn’t looked at it a thousand times in the past ten years. “By lying?”
His name across the “pay to the order of”