Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2)

by Rose, Kimberly

  Immediately following the end of the movie, I pulled her on top of me. We spent the rest of our date christening the floor, the wall, and the sawhorse in the corner. Date nights ruled. Happy chick. Happy dick.

  Wes was nervous about something. That much was obvious. After rolling over to his cooled spot in the bed at three a.m. this morning, I found him in his living room organizing his video games by color. Not able to fall back asleep, I stayed up and made us breakfast. He barely ate a bite before we left for SYC.

  I reached over and touched my hand to his knee, stilling the bounce of his thigh as we drove to the youth center. He flinched like I’d woken him from a shallow sleep. “You okay over there?” I asked watching him closely for any signs of him trying to hide his nerves from me.

  “I’m freakin’ out, C.” He shook his head, and I smiled at the honesty I’d earned over the last few months.

  “Why?” I ran my hand through his hair. He leaned into my touch and sighed.

  “After today, it’s done.” He looked at me with his eyebrows pinched in the middle of his forehead.

  “It is,” I agreed, “and it looks so amazing.” A few more touch-ups and outlines, and we would put the finishing touches on the mural today.

  “I hate endings, Capri.” Wes’ knee began bopping again. I set my hand on his thigh and rubbed softly. “I don’t like ‘em. I get this sinking feeling right here.” He touched his hand to his stomach.

  I nodded at him in understanding. He’d had so many endings over the course of his life; friendships, routines, blessings, and nightmares. “This is different, Wes. The only thing that will change is not going to SYC a few times a week to paint. Everything else is the same. You still have the same people, you still have tattooing, and you can even show up at the youth center anytime you want.”

  The shaking of his knee settled some, and when he looked at me again, the pinch in his forehead had loosened. “It’s still sad though, yeah?” he asked.

  “It is.” I smiled softly. “I’ll miss painting with the boys and painting with you. It’s exciting too though, you know? Now, we go forward.” I thought about how far we’d come since we started. “You annoyed the crap out of me.” I shoved his leg with my hand making him laugh.

  “Only ‘cause you wanted me.” He winked. I shook my head looking out the window. That’s so true. “Now you like me.” He smiled.

  “But you still annoy me,” I added.

  “And you still want me.” He waggled his eyebrows making the turn into SYC.

  “More.” I watched him park the car then turn to me with a smile of wonderment on his face.

  “Somehow. I still don’t get it,” he said taking my hand in his.

  “When we started on the mural, I hadn’t painted outside of the tiny space I had in my room for years. I was so scared of being rejected as an artist, both by others and myself. In the last few months, I’ve discovered how to be proud of what I’m passionate about and proud of who I am. I don’t feel like hiding anymore.” I turned to face him completely. “I called the art gallery in La Jolla yesterday about displaying some of my work.” I held my breath at the last word.

  “Are you serious?” He jumped forward in his seat and squeezed my hand. “That’s amazing.” I let out a whoosh of air in a laugh. “Baby.” His voice softened along with his face. “Really. That’s huge.” He leaned in to kiss me, which I allowed but only a simple peck before pulling back.

  “You said you don’t get it. You don’t get how I could possibly want you more, but that’s why. In the short time that I’ve been lucky enough to get close to you, I’ve become closer to who I really am. You’ve helped me find my meaning.”

  He shook his head. “It’s always been there.”

  “Kinda like you,” I whispered and leaned into him. His hands cupped my face, and he slipped his tongue between my lips. Our kiss was slow but no less powerful. I felt like he was trying to pull the words I’d spoken from my mouth and absorb them into his own disbelief.

  “No glove, no love,” Ridge’s muffled voice came outside of the car window, sending Wes and me immediately into our places as far away from each other as possible.

  Wes rolled down his window while I pulled out my compact. “Real funny, dude.”

  “Good morning, Miss Capri.” Ridge ignored Wes and stuck his head into the car.

  “Good morning, Ridge.” I smiled zipping up my purse.

  “Go inside. We’ll be there in a few.” Wes put his hand flat on Ridge’s face and pushed him out of the car.

  “I can’t,” Ridge muffled, and Wes dropped his hand. “August and Miss Kensie are in there making out, too.”

  “We’re awful role models,” I grumbled to Wes, who tossed his head back in a laugh.

  “When I grow up, I want to work here, too.” Ridge waggled his eyebrows at us. Clearly, he’d spent too much time with Wes.

  “Inside,” Wes said, rolling his window up. “Just cover your eyes.”

  “I repeat. We’re awful role models.” I laughed, opening my door.

  “Me, yes. You? You’re the kind of woman every girl should aspire to become, and the kind of lady every boy should hope to bone.” He leaned over giving me a quick kiss before he climbed out. What a romantic.

  “Can you believe it’s done?” Kensie asked. She’d come by after her dance class was over to check out the nearly finished wall. Ridge, Jordan, and Wes were just doing a few extra highlights and lowlights on the mural. “It turned out beautifully.”

  I couldn’t agree more. Everything about that huge gym wall from the smears of paint creating a representation of the kids who find a niche in this place, to the stories hidden within the brushstrokes permanently etching the turns our lives have taken while creating the mural. It was beautiful.

  “How are things going with Wes?” she asked tying her hair up into a knot on her head.

  “Really, really well.” I smiled, watching him with the boys. He peered back over his shoulder checking on me and then stood up stretching his arms. Slowly, and oh so purposefully, he bent them into a perfect flex. “Oh, okay,” I mumbled making Kensie laugh. Then he propped his arms up on the wall in front of him and bent over, sticking his butt out at us.

  “Wow. You’re a lucky woman,” Kensie teased as his butt shifted from side to side.

  “Ridge!” I hollered across the gym. All three boys stopped and turned. “Why don’t you show Wes what real muscles look like.”

  “Ohhh,” the boys chanted. Wes folded his arms over his chest and shook his head chuckling.

  “These here are Grade A all-American muscles,” Wes shouted back at me with his arms flexed on either side. “I could bench press you with these guns.”

  “Yeah, of course.” I smiled and rolled my eyes.

  “That’s it,” Wes said charging toward me with his dimples on full display.

  “No.” I stuck my hands out in front of me and shuffled back. “Wes, no.” I couldn’t help the giggled squeal that echoed in the gym when he swept me off my feet and lifted me to his chest. I wiggled in his arms, and he let me drop to my feet again.

  “All right, maybe later,” he said kissing me on the cheek before going back to the boys.

  “Okay, so it’s going really, really well,” Kensie said coming up next to me. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so—”

  “Myself,” I finished her thought.

  “I was going to say happy, but yeah, that works, too.”

  “I’m colorblind, by the way,” I blurted out still a little out of breath.

  “What?” Kensie turned her entire body toward me. “You’re what?”

  “Colorblind?” I looked at her with a shrug. “Figured while we are on the topic of me being myself, I should put it out there.”

  “Holy shit. Why haven’t you ever said anything before?” Kensie grabbed me by the elbows.

  “Said what?” August came in through the side doors next to us. Kensie released my arms and went to August.


  “That she’s colorblind,” she said stepping up on her toes to kiss him. When she pulled away, he looked at me with raised eyebrows

  “What are you talking about?” He ran his hands up and down Kensie’s arms.

  “I’m colorblind.” I grimaced a smile at him and waited for him to say something, but he stared at me in confusion. “I have been my whole life; I just never talk about it.”

  “What the hell? You’re serious right now?” he said dropping his arms from Kensie.

  “I am.”

  “How? I mean, why haven’t you ever said anything? Or Mom and Dad? Mom and Dad have to know, right?”

  “They know.” I nodded. “But obviously they took protecting me a bit too far. I think they thought they were saving me from unnecessary judgment by never mentioning it.”

  “Capri, that’s so wrong. They kept it a secret?” August’s voice rose with his bewilderment.

  “They let me be the one to decide if and when I wanted people to know,” I explained to him. The time of me being upset with them over their decision to keep quiet about my colorblindness had already come and gone. “Once I was old enough to realize there was something different in the way I saw things, I’m the one who made it a secret.”

  I remembered the exact moment all my friends in elementary school commented on my mismatched outfit. When I’d left that morning, I’d seen something entirely different. Regardless of what my mom told me that night about being unique and special, I felt like a freak.

  “What about your art, though? You took all those classes in high school. You were always drawing, or coloring, or painting something.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I painted my way. I drew my way, and when I was criticized for it, I stopped.” Except for when I painted Wes, but those pieces were not anything I thought I’d ever share.

  “What the hell?” August said rubbing his hand down his face. “I can’t believe I never realized.”

  “August,” I said not wanting him to feel bad about it, “you had so much going on in your life. You had Ella so young, and then you grew up faster than any teenager should. I wouldn’t have expected you to notice. In fact, it made it easier for me to fade into the background.”

  “Why, though? Why would you want that? You deserve to stand out,” he said.

  “If no one noticed me, no one would figure it out. I liked hiding away, but I wasn’t ever fulfilled.”

  “That’s crazy,” August said watching me closely. “So, why now? Why tell us now about this?”

  I looked over at Wes, who was now engaged in an arm wrestling match with Jordan on one of the storage bins we were packing supplies into. “I’ve had some help in seeing that there isn’t anything wrong with me.” I looked back at my brother who hadn’t missed the direction of my stare. “And that I can still practice art like I’ve always dreamed of.”

  “Of course, there’s nothing wrong with you.” August released Kensie and pulled me into a hug. “I’m glad you’ve found someone who believes in you that much,” he whispered causing my eyes to mist.

  I pulled away and sighed. “So, who’s telling Lennon?”

  “I just texted her. Your phone should be blowing up any minute.” Kensie smiled and stepped to me for her own hug. I saw Wes watching over her shoulder. He gave me a wink seeming to know exactly what was going on. Then he showed me his biceps.

  I smacked my arm around on my nightstand with my eyes still closed.

  “Who is it?” Capri’s sleepy and seriously sexy middle of the night voice rasped.

  I caught my phone in my hand on the third ring and brought it to my face squinting into the blue light. “Unknown number,” I mumbled and connected the call. “Hello.”

  “I’m looking for a Mr. Weston Monroe,” a much too perky for the middle of the night voice said. Thank God, she used my full name. I didn’t think Capri would be okay with a chick from the past calling me in the middle of the night.

  “It’s me.” I rubbed my hand across my eyes.

  “Sorry for calling so late, Mr. Monroe. My name is Claire Reynolds. I’m a nurse at San Diego Memorial Hospital.” I sat up, coming to life. “I have a Mr. Louis Blue here. He is unable to drive himself home and has listed you as an emergency contact number.”

  “Wait, where are you calling from?” I asked swinging my legs out of the bed and hurrying out of the room. Capri was already back asleep. She slept like a champ, most likely because I stuck it in her like a champ.

  “From San Diego Memorial, sir,” this nurse says.

  “What happened? Is he okay?” I asked flipping on the kitchen light.

  “I can’t say, sir, but he does need a ride home. He refused to call anyone to come and get him, so we found your name on his paperwork.”

  “You can’t tell me what happened? Is he okay at least?” This was stupid. They could call me to come get him, but they couldn’t tell me what happened.

  “I’m sorry, sir. He is ready to go home, though. I can tell you that much.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll be there soon,” I said hanging up. Shit, at least he could go home.

  I tiptoed back into the room to grab a pair of jeans. “Is everything okay?” Capri’s sleepy voice spoke again making my dick flinch. Ignore the sexy voice.

  “Blue’s in the hospital. I’ve gotta go pick him up,” I whispered pulling a clean shirt over my head.

  “What?” She sat straight up, hair an adorable mess. “Is he okay? I’ll come with you,” she said swinging her head around and looking for her pants.

  “No, no,” I whispered climbing back onto the bed and leaning over her. “He’s fine. They won’t tell me what happened, but he does get to go home, so he’s okay. I’ll go pick him up, find out what happened, and come home.” I kissed her forehead after she fell back onto the pillows.

  “You sure? I can go with you, Wes.” She yawned.

  “Go back to sleep, baby.” I kissed her on the lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Mmmkay,” she mumbled rolling over. “Call me if you need me. I’m there,” she mumbled.

  “I know, baby.” I pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and gave her one more kiss on the neck before slipping out to find out what kinda bullshit Blue got himself into.

  “You get your dick stuck in the vacuum again, Bluebell?” He sat up from his hospital bed.

  “Got it stuck in your throat, kid,” he said swinging his skinny legs over the side of the bed coughing. Coughing. More damn coughing.

  “You okay?” I asked walking to him and patting him on the back. That was what you did when someone coughed, right?

  “Stop fuckin’ burpin’ me.” Blue reached back to swat my hand away.

  “Mr. Blue?” Some way too buff doctor came in. Seriously. How was he a doctor? “You’re all set to leave. I wanted to go over a few things before you break out of here.” He looked at me and nodded. “Is it okay to speak in front of your friend?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Blue waved his hand at the doctor who sat in his rolly chair.

  “Mr. Blue, this is quite serious.” The doctor opened his folder. “It looks as though you are in the early stages of emphysema.” What the?

  “Yeah,” Blue said scratching his nuts. Fuckin’ Blue.

  “How have you been managing your COPD?” The doctor scribbled in his folder.

  “CO what?” I asked, “and dude, emphysema?”

  The doctor looked at Blue, who nodded and huffed. “Mr. Blue has chronic bronchitis. It’s a result of his years of smoking, and now it seems the habit has permanently damaged the airways and air sacs of his lungs.”

  Fuck. I reached up and gripped my hair in my fingers. “What does it all mean?” ‘Cause really it all sounded like scary jibberish.

  “I’m dyin’,” Blue said. I think. I thought that was what he said. I wasn’t sure because my ears popped, and then my legs got wobbly, so I had to climb onto the bed Blue sat in.

  “Jesus. You’re a pussy sometimes,” Blue grumbled next to me when a cup
appeared in front of my face.

  “Some water, sir,” the doctor said, and I took it from him dumping the cup on my face.

  “Son of a bitch,” Blue grumbled next to me, and I felt his wrinkly ass cold hand squeeze mine.

  “Mr. Blue, how have you been managing your COPD until this point?” The doctor continued to speak to Blue.

  “Nothin’,” Blue said.

  “What should he be doing?” I pushed myself up and looked at the doctor.

  “The first thing he should do to slow down the progression of the disease is quit smoking.” That got a grumble from Blue next to me. I pushed past him and stood next to where he still sat on the bed. “He also should be using bronchodilators to help relax his airways and improve his breathing. Tonight, his O2 levels were at eighty-six percent, which is not good and the reason why he was having shortness of breath.”

  “Bluebell, you couldn’t breathe? You should have had them call me,” I said to him, but he just shrugged. Stubborn old ass.

  “I’d also like for you to start pulmonary rehab to help you get the most out of the part of your lungs that isn’t damaged yet, and start you on oxygen, especially when you are more active and find yourself out of breath more quickly.” The doctor jibber jabbed away, and I did my best to type in the nonsense he was spewing into my phone.

  The doctor handed Blue a packet of papers. “Here is all the information you will need as well as your prescriptions. Please take care of yourself, Mr. Blue.” The doctor stood and shook Blue’s hand before shaking mine.

  “Okay, Bluebell,” I said scrolling through my notes, “Let’s get to the pharmacy and get your medication then we can call that rehab place in the morning.”

  “Forget it, son,” Blue said standing up right into a coughing fit.

  I waited for him to settle down. “Blue, he said we can slow it down, so let’s do it.” I put my phone in my pocket and reached out to help him walk, but he slapped my hand away and flipped me off.