Are you?
Are you truly?
The cops pursed their lips as if sensing my lack of conviction. One final stare and they nodded. “Okay, then.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Gil strode with long legs to the exit and wrenched it open for them. He didn’t say goodbye as they stepped through it.
With a grunt, he slammed it closed. Hard. So hard it rattled the entire roller door, echoing around the warehouse with fury.
Silence chased the twang, filling all the corners, suffocating all the air.
We stayed in that soundless cocoon for ages, Gil bracing himself on the door as if unable to stand unassisted, me soothing my aching head and trying to delete my confusion.
I honestly didn’t know what was expected or what would come next.
All I knew was I was tired.
Exhausted.
And I wanted to be alone.
I’d been on my own so much of my life that it was the only way I could relax. The only way I truly felt safe...with only my thoughts and worry for company.
I’d lied for him. I’d drained myself of everything at his request.
I was spent.
Go.
Stepping toward the exit, my motion snapped Gil back into awareness. He flicked the lock on the door, preventing anyone from entering or leaving. Turning to face me, he let go of the coldness in his eyes, sighing heavily. “I know you have no right to trust me. I know I’ve been nothing but a bastard since you walked back into my life. But...I can never repay you for what you just did.” He moved toward me, stiff and sore. “Thank you...from the bottom of my heart.”
My body wanted to collapse in relief. My heart wanted to scream for everything.
I shivered as he closed the distance between us, predator slow, as if he didn’t know if I’d run or strike.
Hugging myself at the sudden chill in my blood, I asked quietly, “Why did I just lie to the police?”
“Because I asked you to.” He gave me a complicated, grief-stricken smile.
“Because you begged me to.”
He nodded gravely. “Because I begged you to.”
“Will you tell me why?”
“No.”
“Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” My arms wrapped tighter around me. “Don’t you think I deserve to know why you let that arsehole beat you up? Don’t you think I deserve to know why you knocked me out? Don’t you think I deserve—”
“You deserve all those answers and more.” He raked a hand through his wild hair, only making the mess worse. “It doesn’t mean I can give them to you.” Brushing past me, he headed toward the trestle where I’d placed the thick envelope of cash.
His jaw worked as he plucked it with fingers meant to paint and create. His shoulders tensed as he turned to face me, holding the money up, offering it to me all over again. “You earned this. Take it.”
I fought the hiccup in my heart and arched my chin. “I took what was owed. The rest you overpaid.”
“I just said I can never repay you for what you did. There is no such thing as overpayment. Take it.”
“No.”
“Isn’t it up to me to pay a canvas what I think she’s worth?”
My voice cracked with residual pain. “You cheapened me.”
His eyes darkened; his forehead furrowed. “Cheapened you? How?”
“You paid me for a kiss. You—”
“That’s what you think?” He threw the money down as if it was contaminated. “What an idiotic thing—”
“Gil.”
His nostrils flared, anger glowing on his tortured face. “You’ll take a kiss, you’ll goddamn lie for me, yet my money isn’t good enough for you?”
I stepped toward him, carefully, fearfully. “Pay me in answers. I’ll accept those.”
His chest heaved as he sucked in a breath. “That’s a currency I can’t afford.”
“Why? What’s happened to you, Gil? What’s going on? What are you so afraid—”
“I’m not afraid.”
I smiled sadly. “You are. It’s painfully obvious.”
He crossed his arms, forming an impenetrable barrier around him. “Stop.”
“But if I do, you’ll still be dealing with this nightmare...alone.” I dropped my arms, spreading my hands in surrender. “I found you again by some crazy twist of fate. Our connection is still there, even if you deny it. I’m willing to help you, Gil, just like we helped each other in the past. I forgive you for hurting me. I’ll be patient if you need time. But...I can’t walk away when I know—”
“You know nothing.”
“I know enough that you’re alone in this and I made a promise a long time ago that you’d never be alone again.”
He flinched. “Promises are easy things to break.”
“Not mine.”
“I broke plenty.” His voice trespassed on bitterness. “I left you.”
“You said you had reasons.”
He laughed icily. “You’re willing to forgive me for that too? Fuck, what do I have to do to you to make you hate me?”
I smiled forlornly, remembering a simpler time in my kitchen, the sweet scent of pancakes around us, the joy of having Gil in the place where I’d been so alone.
We’d agreed to be together—to always have each other’s backs.
“It’s almost a challenge to see what else I can make you put up with.”
His voice echoed in my head as if it’d been only a few hours, not years, between that moment and this one.
I didn’t know back then that he would honour that joke-given threat. That he would hurt me worse than anyone and push me away again and again, and yet...
“Go ahead. I’ll still be here.”
My own voice sounded young and innocent, dragged from the past, threading with his inside my mind.
I’d made a promise that day.
I intended to keep it...until Gil no longer needed my help.
“I’m going home, Gil.” I dropped my hands. “I’m going home to rest, but I will come back.”
“Don’t. Don’t ever come back.”
“Why?”
His temper acted like a shield, a suit of chainmail cold and heavy around his heart. “I can’t enlighten you, O. No matter how many times you ask.”
“I won’t ask. I’ll just pop by and offer support.”
“You can’t. I owe you a debt for today, but that’s where this ends.” Snatching the money again, he held it out. “Take it. It’s the least I can do.”
“I’ll be seeing you, Gil.” I turned to go, to somehow make my way home when my entire body was in pieces. To nurse my bruises and tend to my wounds alone.
“Wait.” The command was a snap, a grenade.
His teeth ground together, making his jaw tight and veins thread visibly down his neck. “The phone call...I need...” He grunted as if talking about such things drove splinters into his mind. “I wasn’t going to ask. I would...prefer to use another canvas, but...I need to do another commission.”
I paused, hiding my hurt. “You’d prefer another canvas because of my tattoo?”
“I’d prefer another canvas who isn’t you.”
I stumbled at the force of such a nasty phrase.
His face flickered with untold things. “I didn’t mean...” The contrition in his voice punished him worse than I ever could. “I...” He rubbed his eyes, seeking truth but battling lies. “I should have the strength to stand here and tell you that the ridges of your scars are hard to hide. That your ink isn’t worth the time it takes to camouflage. That you have flaws I’m not prepared to fix.”
“I see.” Tears prickled my eyes as anger settled in my stomach. “How stupid of me. The Master of Trickery would never paint flaws.”
He stepped toward me. “You don’t have flaws, O. You never have.” The way his tone thickened with remorse made my anger falter.
“Don’t.” I held up my hand. “It’s fine. I knew when I applied for the job that I wasn’t p
erfect.”
He swallowed a groan. “Fuck.” Dragging hands through his hair, he bared his teeth at whatever had him cornered before breaking its hold and swooping toward me. His hands captured my cheeks, shaking and full of tenderness. “I promised myself I’d be as cruel as necessary to keep you away. That I’d hurt you all over again if that’s what it took. But...I’m too fucking weak. You’re perfect. You’ve always been perfect.”
His lips crashed onto mine, kissing me swift and true.
My mouth opened under his, shock and surprise making me totally his.
His taste was dark and distressing. His tongue violently claiming.
He kissed me as if this was all my fault—as if he blamed me for making his life ten times harder when I’d only tried to help.
His arms shuddered around me, clutching me close.
He kissed me until I was breathless from his pain. Only then did he let me go, drop his touch, and back away as if distance could somehow erase what he’d just done.
Clearing his throat, he balled his hands. “He knows you’re here now. You made him think there is an us.” His gaze caught mine in a fatal web. “You should never have seen what you did, but I can’t change that and now...” He stopped talking, his body stiffening to steel. “Now, everything is all fucked up and you can’t keep disobeying me. Be my canvas once more, have a reason to be here, accept my money and keep business our only reason for meeting, and then...” He stood taller as if facing an execution. “Walk away and never come back.”
I licked my lips where his taste still lingered. “Is that what you want? For me to never come back?”
He looked away; rage imprisoned in his gaze. “Yes.”
“Liar.”
“It’s what I need.”
I didn’t bother asking why.
There were only so many times I could ask an unanswerable question. Instead, I asked something I hadn’t verbalised, even to myself. A question that’d been haunting me. “Are you so determined to give me your money, because you think you owe me—”
“I do owe you.”
“Not for today, but for all the times I hid money in your backpack so you could get something to eat.”
His eyes snapped shut, his body quaked. He rubbed his mouth as his green eyes reopened with shame. “No. But by the end, I did owe you more than I could ever give you.”
“You owed me nothing. It was given with love. A gift.”
He flinched with ghosts of our past. We balanced on words—words that could heal the history between us and pave our future. But Gil rearranged his face from pained to impatient, and he was no longer the boy I was in love with but the body painter I couldn’t figure out. “Talking about the past won’t change anything. It’s over between us. It was over seven years ago. All I can offer you is money. Come back tomorrow and—”
“I can’t.” I cut him off. “I just agreed to work for another company. I start tomorrow.”
His face stayed carefully blank. “I can paint you in a few hours. Come by after work.”
The thought of being in his presence again so soon? The energy it would take to survive him? I honestly didn’t know if I had the strength.
I opened my mouth to push the commission back. To plead exhaustion and beg for time to put my pieces back together again. To be whole enough to help him, even when he was adamant he didn’t want such a thing.
But Gil stood frozen, a raincloud of torment overhead, a crack of lightning forking right through his chest. He smiled gravely, tasting my reluctance and hurting because of it.
He nodded. “It’s for the best. I won’t ask you again.” Stalking toward the exit, he murmured, “Please don’t come back here, Olin. I mean it.”
I followed him, waiting while he unlocked the door, and sucking in courage when he opened it.
Stepping over the threshold, I twisted to face him and raised my hand to cup his jaw.
He winced. His face was a torn mask, cold indifference slipping to reveal passionate concern.
“I’ll be your canvas, Gil.” Dropping my touch, I slid into the dusk. “I’ll help you in whatever way you need.”
He shuddered.
Looking back at him, imprinting him, I added softly, “See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Fourteen
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-
MY PHONE VIBRATED in my handbag.
I heard the vibration even as it tickled my foot beneath my desk where I’d tossed it. I did my best to ignore it. After all, this was my first day at my new job.
I hadn’t slept.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Gil.
But I’d made a commitment and did my best to be a model employee.
The first hour had been spent being dragged around the whole floor, smiling and nodding, knowing I would never remember the names of all the people Shannon—my new manager—introduced me to. She’d shown me the coffee break room, the balcony where smokers and vapers hung out, and the glass walled boxes where the bosses kept the cogs running.
Afterward, she sat me down in a bare cubicle that would become my home and showed me, with her sparkly pink pen, how to log into their servers, answer the phones, and what my job entailed.
I’d focused on her red lips and bouncy blonde hair. I’d jotted notes on her advice and mentally did my best to be present.
But Gil still lurked in the back of my mind.
I could never be free of him.
Only a few hours before I would see him again. A few more hours of calmness before my heart careened off my ribs and my insides tied themselves into knots.
I’d agreed to be his canvas for two reasons.
One, I would stand by my promise to be there for him.
Two, I couldn’t bear the thought of him painting another, laughing with another, letting down his walls with another.
Being happy with another.
I’d never really seen him happy.
Even at school when we’d been close, sadness always shadowed his happiness.
He’s in danger.
Until he’d solved his mysterious predicament, I doubted he would ever be happy, regardless of the company.
Stop thinking about him.
That was an impossibility.
My mind switched from worrying about him to worrying over the design he’d paint me with tonight.
What was the commission?
Who was the client?
He seemed in high demand. He could command untold riches if he wanted. So why did he still come across as the boy from a penniless beginning? A lonely man living in an empty warehouse that whispered of destitution instead of richness?
Stop it, O.
You’ll drive yourself insane.
I was already insane.
There was no other explanation for my going back to him or my tolerance of his behaviour. My head still ached from what he’d done. My body still flighty from the kidnapping attempt.
My work computer pinged, announcing a new email.
I sighed, clicking on it and reading the generic request for warranty terms and conditions of our product.
My fingers flew over the keyboard, typing a scripted response that Shannon had given me.
My phone buzzed again.
I forced myself to finish the email before bowing to pressure to check. I didn’t receive many messages these days. After cutting myself off from my friends and dance troupe, no one bothered to reach out. Even my parents never texted to tell me where in the world they were.
Ducking down, I fumbled in my bag. Grabbing my phone, I swiped it on and clicked on the messenger app.
One new message from someone I didn’t expect.
Justin Miller: Hi, O. Hope you’re good. Quick question. Is Gilbert with you?
What?
Why would Gil be with me?
I bit my lip, looking over my partition as if Gil would magically appear. Staff milled about as sunshine beamed into the high-ris
e building. Some people had pulled blackout blinds to prevent direct light on their computer screens. The babble of voices and scents of coffee and warm machinery were a total contrast to Gil’s chilly, unwelcoming warehouse.
And he wasn’t anywhere to be found.
Not that he has any clue where I work.
Olin Moss: Hi Justin. Nope. Haven’t seen him since yesterday. Why?
A phone call came in on the office line, making me jolt. Placing my personal mobile on the desk, I did my job and answered the work one. The entire time I dealt with a customer requiring a new battery for a computer that was ten years out of date, I waited for Justin to reply.
The little dots bounced beside his name, signalling he was typing.
By the time I hung up, a message popped onto my screen.
Justin Miller: I’m at his place, and he’s not here. He’s ALWAYS here. I’ve literally never come here and he’s not. It’s just odd is all.
My heart picked up a strange beat.
Olin Moss: Why would you think he’s with me?
Justin Miller: Come on. It’s obvious you guys have unfinished history.
I had no response to that. He was right.
Olin Moss: He’s probably at the supermarket or something.
Justin Miller: He gets food delivered. Doesn’t like people, remember?
Olin Moss: Maybe he needed some fresh air?
Justin Miller: In the year since we’ve kinda been friends, he’s never needed anything but his art.
I didn’t reply straight away.
What does he want me to say?
Justin had been friends with Gil far longer than me these days. I’d entered Gil’s life and he’d promptly tried to shove me out of it. Why would I know his schedule?
Olin Moss: Sorry, Justin. I don’t know where he is. Wish I could be more help.
Justin Miller: No worries. It was a long shot. I’m just...jumping to conclusions. He’s a grown man. I’ll call him again tomorrow if I haven’t heard from him. Cheers.
I sighed, ready to lock my phone and return to work, but a final message popped up.
Justin Miller: I haven’t forgotten about dinner by the way. Let me know what night works and I’ll pick you up!
Shannon caught my eye from across two cubicles. She had another trainee who probably wasn’t on their phone like I was.
The Body Painter (Master of Trickery Book 1) Page 17
