26. Kavi
KAVI
Ithrow a small couch cushion on my brother’s face, trying to distract him from his phone. “You know you don’t have to work two jobs anymore. We have enough in the account so you can enjoy your summer like most kids your age.”
He shrugs, going back to his phone, ignoring my attempt to annoy him. “I don’t mind. I don’t like dipping into the account.”
“Oh, there is more to the story than that,” Mom chirps, striding into the family room with cups of chai for the two of us—she knows Neil won’t have any. She sits down on the chair across from us, opening the box of garlic knots I baked for them. “Tell her, Neil!”
The glimmer in Mom’s eyes tells me everything I need to know, and I swing my grin toward my brother, who slumps further into our couch with a groan. He’s well aware of how excited the two women in his life get about any mention of his love life.
“Tell me!” I urge, placing my entangled fingers under my chin and blinking rapidly. “Is this about a girl? Is there someone who watches you from her window while you mow her parents’ lawn?”
He glares at me unamused, which just makes me giggle more. It also warms my insides to know he’s going through normal teenage things. Especially since my own teenage years were spent hiding inside my room, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened, things I should have never experienced.
I throw another pillow at him. “Tell me!”
“There’s a girl by the name of Lilac—” Mom starts.
“Lyla,” Neil corrects her, going back to scrolling his phone. His hair lays like an overgrown mop over his forehead.
Mom waves her hand in the air like potato-potahto, taking a sip of her tea. “Yes, yes. That’s what I said. She’s become quite fond of our Neil—”
Neil looks up. “Mom, she’s never even said a word to me. She literally doesn’t even know I exist.”
“Yes, yes,” Mom huffs, as if this is all extraneous information that really doesn’t embellish her story in the least. “But that’s just because she’s pretending not to. You know, playing coy so you will approach her. It’s what we women do, don’t we, Kavi?” She looks at me for agreement. “It’s just the way we flirt.”
I’m not entirely sure I agree, but I nod anyway to placate her while my brother rolls his eyes. “She has a boyfriend, Mom.”
I wince, but my mom keeps going. “Well, relationships at this age rarely last, so keep an eye out. When she’s single again, you can swoop in with a romantic gesture. Buy her some Lindor chocolates. Not the cheap kind, you know, the nice ones in those metallic wrappers that say, ‘You’re the love of my life’.”
Neil tilts his head. “You just said relationships at my age rarely last.”
“Oh, don’t be sensitive.” Mom leans back in her chair, her curly dark hair brushing against her shoulders. “I meant other relationships, not yours. Once Lilac sees what a kind and gentle soul you are—so much like your father—she’ll never want to let you go.”
Refusing to argue, Neil just shakes his head and goes back to his phone.
“Now, speaking of romantic gestures.” Mom turns to me right as I’m blowing air over my cup, trying to cool off my tea. I’ve never understood how she can scald her tongue as if she has no nerve endings there. “How is that handsome boss-roommate of yours?”
I’m hoping she doesn’t see the pink crawling into my cheeks, but the flashes of last night—of him taking me in every which way, well into the early morning hours—have my skin heating to the same temperature as the cup in my hands.
My body is bruised and fatigued, but I wouldn’t change a single thing.
And then his raspy voice in my ear this morning, telling me that I’d be staying in his room every night from now on. He’d encircled my waist and pulled me into him, burying his nose in my hair before going back to sleep, as if he’d woken up just to ensure I accepted his proposal—ahem, demand.
“He’s . . . fine. You know, just busy.” I take a small sip of my tea, trying to avoid Mom’s searching eyes.
“Is he still being gruff and demanding with you?”
Another flash of him telling me to take his cock like a good girl, pumping into me from behind with his hand clasped around my neck and pressing me into the mattress, has me clearing my throat. “Oh, yeah. Extremely gruff and demanding.”
My mother is generally open-minded about most things, and while she won’t be thrilled that I’m with a man twenty years older than me—who is closer to her age than mine—she won’t deem it scandalous or taboo, either. After all, she herself married someone quite a bit older. Still, revealing that I’m in a ‘complicated’ relationship with my boss will lead to a much longer conversation than I have time for today.
So before she can ask any more questions, I shift the conversation back to Neil. “Hey, twirp, so are you all healed up now? No stomach pains or anything, right?”
Neil nods. “Yeah, all good.”
“Good,” I respond, turning back to my mom. “Mom, where are the bills from the hospital? I wanted to see how much we owe.”
“Oh!” She jumps up off her chair, leaving her cup on the coffee table and heading over to where she keeps all our bills on the counter. Thankfully, the overdue notices have stopped, given I’ve been paying everything off, so there aren’t quite as many on that counter as there normally are. She hands me an opened envelope. “Look at this. It says the bill has been paid.”
“What?” My brows furrow as I pull the envelope from her fingers and unfold the papers inside. “What do you mean?”
I scan the various billed items, reading down to the bottom, where an amount well above ten thousand dollars shows that it has been paid. My breath stalls in my chest as I blink up at my mother. “When did you receive this?”
She gives me a guilty look I’ve seen before. “I’ve actually had it for a few weeks. I was just too scared to open it—you know how I get around bills, they trigger my eye twitches. But then I finally caved and opened it yesterday. I was so surprised to see your insurance covered it all. What a great company you’re working for.”
I examine the papers in my hand with renewed shock, as if they just appeared out of thin air, not giving her the truth. That I never enrolled us in the insurance plan, and that this bill was paid by none other than the gruff and demanding man we just spoke about. A man with a soft and generous heart he keeps hidden under a hardened exterior.
“Oh, and I totally forgot to mention,” Mom adds, her voice high-pitched. “I was going to surprise you with the news today; your car is fixed and sitting in the garage. The shop called a couple of days ago saying we could pick it up.”
“That’s great!” I say, relieved. I still plan to buy another used car in Portland, but at least this one will be here for Neil. I had called the shop last week from the office to ask about the status, and they’d said they’d call me to let me know. Apparently, my power steering needed replacing. I wince, wondering how much of a dent that put in our bank account. “How much did they charge for it?”
Mom gives me a confused squint. “What do you mean? Wouldn’t you know that since you paid for it?”
“I didn’t—” My mouth drops open as more shock registers. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I mumble something in response to my mother before excusing myself to my room with my phone, not thinking too much before pressing his number.
“What’s wrong?” His husky demand fills my ear.
“Nothing. I just . . .” I laugh as another wave of emotion hits my chest at the concern in his voice. I clear my throat. “Hi.”
He pauses for a moment. “You missed me, didn’t you?”
I chuckle again, remembering I asked him something similar the night he found me in the throes of a nightmare. “I’d more likely miss a grizzly with a taste for human blood.” He doesn’t respond, but I have a feeling his lips are twitching. “Are you busy?”
“It doesn’t matter if I am.”
I curl my bottom lip into my mouth, smiling. “I, uh . . . I know you paid for Neil’s hospital bills and my car.”
He doesn’t deny it. “Okay.”
“How did you know which shop I had my car at? I never told you.”
He chuckles. “I heard you call them from your office phone, and when you left your desk a couple of minutes later, I just called the last number and gave them my info.”
My mouth drops open. The sneak! “You didn’t have to do that. You’re already paying me a crazy salary and—”
“I wanted to.”
“Hudson, that was way too—”
“Kav, I wanted to.”
I look down, digging my toes into the carpeted floor. “Why?”
He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t want you to have any debt when you start your new life.”
And just like that, my heart sinks.
My new life.
A life that starts without him—away from him—in just a few weeks.
I nod, wondering if this is the point I ask him what that means for us, but knowing it’s still too soon. We just established something between us last night, and the last thing I want to do is scare him off with questions about our future the day after. “Well, I wanted to say thank you.”
“When do you leave for your art therapy class?”
I look at my watch. “I was going to call an Uber, but now I’ll just drive there.”
“Or I could take you.”
I stop pacing inside my room. “What do you mean? How would you take me?”
“In my car,” he says, causing my heart to race. “I’m outside your house.”
“What?” I’m already running out of my bedroom toward the foyer where my boots and purse are. “When did you . . .? I mean, how long have you been here?”
“Who’s here?” Mom hollers behind me, stepping out of the kitchen.
“No one,” I yell back, pulling on my shoes and breathing heavily into my phone. I can’t believe he’s waiting outside my house! “I’ll see you next weekend.”
“Wait, but you never told me about your friend’s wedding. And what about that man she was going to introduce you to?”
“You told your mom about the backup dancer?” Hudson drawls in my ear, unamused, making me giggle.
He’s made it clear he’s a possessive man, and the feminist inside me should be appalled at the jealousy in his tone, but when it comes to Hudson Case, she’s nowhere to be seen. Instead, she revels in being owned and possessed by him.
“I’ll tell you about it next week.” My voice carries behind me to my mother as I pull my purse strap over my shoulder. “Bye, twirp. Be good!” I holler at my brother as I swing the door open and step out.
I blink rapidly, trying to adjust my eyes to the bright sunlight outside, before finding Hudson’s truck across the street. I rush toward him, hanging up the phone.
He exits the driver’s side as I run to him, stopping abruptly a few feet in front of him with my breath caught in my lungs. “How long have you been here?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You missed me, didn’t you, Mr. Case?” I tease him with a smile between my lips, throwing back what’s becoming our familiar banter.
He shakes his head, his forearms peeking out beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves, hands tucked in his pockets. “I’d sooner miss Chickenpox.”
I can’t help but laugh as I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his neck. He pulls me to him, lifting me effortlessly as I plant kisses from his earlobe down to his neck.
When I reach his mouth, he draws me closer, taking control of our kiss. I tug his hair gently, lost in the sensation of our lips, our connection, feeling breathless and untamed.
This man . . . his scent, his skin, his arms, everything about him. From his rare smiles to his hard-won grins. From his sometimes terse, unapologetic words to the sweetness of his whispers meant only for me. I crave him endlessly.
A familiar throat clearing behind me breaks my spell, and I slide down from Hudson’s embrace, turning to find my mother glaring back at me. Her arms are crossed and an expression of both amusement and mild disapproval wrestles over her features.
Her eyes bounce between me and Hudson, and I’m relieved when an upward curl finds her lips. “Pretty sure you’ve got some explaining to do next time, Kavi.”
Jojo’s dadand stepmom settle into seats in the back of the class. With Jojo’s permission, I’d invited them to join us today, letting them know I wanted to speak to them after class.
Last week, Jojo had texted me, telling me that she’d confided in her dad about the situation with her stepsister. From our brief conversation, it seemed he was fully supportive of her. He’d even consoled and hugged her, apologizing for not being there sooner while Jojo suffered on her own.
While I know Jojo and her dad discussed the matter with her stepmom, Jackie, I’m uncertain of their plans to move forward and mend. My hope is to convince them to consider family counseling, but ultimately, it’s their decision to make.
“These look great!” I clap my hands together, walking around the classroom.
Each of my students turns to look at the life-sized outline of themselves on the large white paper stuck to the walls. They helped draw the outline of the person next to them, and I’m proud of the way they all worked together.
And since Hudson has joined today’s class, I told him he’d have to participate, too, so we both drew outlines around the other’s body on our own pieces of paper.
“Now, here’s what I want us to do,” I say, picking up my brush and addressing the class. “I want you to pick a color for each important person in your life and paint the inside of your outline with those colors. There’s no right or wrong, and you can choose as many or as few colors as you want. Once you’re done, I’d love for a couple of you to share your work with the rest of the class, but that’s optional. If you’d rather keep things to yourself, that’s okay, too. There are no rules when it comes to my class.”
Elijah raises his hand and I chuckle, reminding him that, as long as he’s being respectful, he can speak freely without having to ask for permission.
“How do we choose the color for each person?”
I shrug. “It’s completely up to you. Sometimes the colors will guide you. Remember, there’s no right or wrong. Just go with what your heart is telling you.”
The kids all get started, and I walk over to where mine and Hudson’s papers are hanging next to each other, giving him a smile when I look at the enormous outline of him on the wall.
He picks up his brush, dipping it into yellow paint, while I pick up orange on my brush.
Hudson chuckles. “Orange. Of course.”
“It’s the happiest color in the rainbow,” I quip.
Fifteen focused minutes later, I turn to look at Hudson’s painting, assessing the various colors. “Who does the yellow represent over your sternum?”
He studies his work for a moment. “Maddy.” He sees my raised brow in question and continues, “Her hair has always reminded me of sunshine and warmth. Her mom leaving her on my doorstep all those years ago changed my life for the better.”
My throat tightens at the emotion in his voice. God, the way this man loves.
If only . . .
I shake my thoughts away, pointing to the blue on the shoulders of his outline. It has gray spots in it. “What about the blue? Who does that represent?”
Hudson’s jaw works before he says, “My brother. We were each other’s shoulders to lean on for a long time.” He pauses for a moment. “There’re a few gray spots in that relationship, but . . .”
I brush the tips of my fingers along his forearm, smiling up at him. “But hopefully it’s on the mend? Hopefully, you’ll be able to find that trust with him again.” I look at the orange inside his head and over his heart. “And what’s the orange supposed to represent?”
His eyes dip to my lips. “The happiest color in the rainbow. It’s taking over my fucking mind, and I’m drowning in it.”
I clasp my lip in between my teeth, tracing my eyes down to the other part of his painting where the orange seems to be taking over—his heart. “Are you looking for a life raft?”
Hudson shakes his head. “Not even a little.”
He assesses the paper in front of me, his brows furrowing at the light purple and dark green paint covering most of the area inside my outline before it connects with orange on the hands and feet. There’s a large red circle over the chest. “I get the orange, but what is the purple and green?”
I lift my brow. “The question is who represents the lavender and pine?”
A small smile tips up his lips, and I know he doesn’t need me to answer. He looks at my painting. “And the red?”
“My family and friends.”
His brows knot when he sees the red vine crawling up my picture’s arm. “What’s this?”
My smile withers following his gaze. “My best friend.”
Hudson reaches for my forearm, his eyes soft as he puts pieces together in his head. He brushes my scar with his thumb. “Will you ever tell me what happened?”
I’m just about to answer when conversation from the class distracts me, and I walk away to assess each of their paintings, speaking to the volunteers that want to share what they’ve painted.
Twenty minutes later, with Hudson and the kids helping to clean up the room and put away the supplies, I walk to the back with Jojo, her dad, and her stepmom. Both Jojo and I bring along her artwork from today.
“Jojo, do you want to talk about your painting?” I inquire gently, watching Jojo’s gaze shift from her dad to her stepmom shyly.
She begins to explain the various colors on her sheet, revealing fragments of her inner world. She points to the red inside her chest that represents her dad, before explaining a few other colors—her mom, her grandparents, and the dog they lost years ago.
When she gets to the gray colored cloud she’s painted in her head, representing Max, Jackie and her father, Alan, exchange similar frowns.
Jackie tenderly clasps Jojo’s hands in hers. “I’m so sorry that Max has been so terrible to you, sweetheart. It’s no excuse, but she’s going through her own adjustments with our new family dynamic. But I promise you that I will do everything possible to protect and support you.” She takes a breath. “Your feelings are valid, and I’m here for you, too, okay?”
Jojo nods, glancing at me for guidance.
“I think it’s really important for you all to seek family counseling.” I offer Jojo an encouraging smile. “I will continue to keep in touch with Jojo, but it’s essential that you heal as a family, too. Involve Max. Have her talk out what’s bothering her and hopefully, over some time, you all can move forward with mutual respect for one another.”
I turn to Alan, reiterating the importance of Jojo’s emotional recovery. The defeated way she looked sitting inside that dark shed all alone still haunts me. “Your daughter has felt bullied and threatened. She was brave enough to share her experience with all of us, but it’s important that she heals from this. It’s important she finds her confidence and inner-strength again.”
Alan nods somberly, his lips trembling as he pulls Jojo into a hug. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you sooner.”
Giving the three of them time to embrace, I take out a list I’d prepared, outlining some family bonding activities and hand it to Alan, along with referrals to family counselors in the area.
Before they leave, I pull Jojo into a hug, reminding her that she can always call me, day or night.
I’m looking out of the passenger window in Hudson’s car twenty minutes later, when he reaches over to intertwine our fingers. He brings my hand to his lips, like he’s done before, sending a warm current through my body.
I take a breath, my eyes coasting along the oranges and yellows in the sky. “I love the colors of sunsets, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Hudson squeezes my hand. “But now all I see is orange.”