painting, Willow could show you pictures of your mommy when she was alive.”
My lungs seized, and my eyes flashed wide. I’d never dared to dream of a day where I could break out the old photo album with Rosalee. I had a million stories I wanted to share with her about Hadley. From both before and after the shooting. And thanks to Caven, no matter how much he hated me, I now had the chance.
“I can do that,” I breathed. “I have lots of pictures of her.”
“Can I see? Can I see?” Rosalee begged.
“Absolutely,” I replied, setting the paint down. “I’ll be right back.”
I rushed from the room, pausing as I passed Caven.
He turned to stone when I wrapped my hand around the feathers on his forearm. His eyes flicked from my hand to my face, his jaw getting harder by the second. He already hated me though, so I had nothing to lose.
I kept my voice low so Rosalee couldn’t hear me—and also to keep from revealing the tremble of emotion. “I don’t care if you did this for me or not. She looks like my mom. Laughs like my dad. And argues like her mother. For however long you stay tonight, and any night in the future, my family will be alive again. This is truly the greatest gift anyone has ever given me. And I will never stop thanking you for that, regardless if you want me to or not.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I simply released his arm and walked away.
But I did it with a huge smile on my face for the first time in over a week.
WILLOW
“What the hell?” Caven rumbled as he finally looked up from his phone. He was precariously perched on the edge of my bed, a far cry from the last time he’d been in that room—when he’d been naked and sprawled out beside me.
For three weeks, Caven had kept his word. He brought Rosalee over to my house every Monday and Thursday—the day I’d picked to spread out her visits, never wanting to go too long with seeing her. He always stayed within arm’s reach, sitting at the end of my table as we rolled vases in glitter or hovering in my new studio once it’d been finished as we painted a unicorn mural on the wall.
He didn’t look at me or speak to me if he could avoid it. He didn’t even crack a smile when Rosalee and I were giggling ourselves sick.
From what I could tell, hate from Caven Hunt only came in one form, because he was right back to treating me like he had the day I’d arrived as a total stranger at his house for Rosalee’s first art class.
He didn’t trust me. I got it. I deserved that. And as long as he kept bringing her back, I was willing to accept it.
But it was getting worse. His hate for me was growing instead of fading. It had only been three weeks; I didn’t expect him to be my best friend or anything. But he never missed the opportunity to throw out a snide remark even if it was mumbled under his breath. He’d bitten my head off when they’d arrived an hour earlier because I’d prepped slime for our nightly craft. Apparently, they were going to dinner afterward and he didn’t want her to get messy. I’d offered to give her one of my T-shirts to cover her clothes, but he leaned in close, his nose nearly brushing mine—and not in a good way even though my nipples reacted all the same—and seethed, “This is a privilege I’m letting you have. Pick another project or we’re leaving.”
I enjoyed taking his shit about as much as I would have enjoyed a root canal, but I had no leg to stand on. So I’d packed the slime away and instead broke out the photo albums. Not surprisingly, Caven sat on the other side of Rosalee on the couch, busy with his phone and ignoring my existence as I showed her more pictures of Hadley.
Looking at pictures was her favorite thing to do when she came over. And not just pictures of Hadley. She wanted to see pictures of me and my parents too. I thought Caven was going to have a nervous breakdown the day I told her that they were in heaven with her mommy. Of course, he’d been able to mask his emotions from Rosalee, but I’d seen the straining of the