Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
CALLIE
The glass facade of the building stretches twenty stories above me, all shiny surfaces and modern angles that used to make me feel sophisticated. Now it looks cold. Empty. Like the life I tried to build here.
My fingers fiddle with the strap of my purse as I crane my neck back, counting floors until I find the fourth-floor corner loft that used to be mine and Theo’s.
The windows are dark, and I wonder who will move in now.
After speaking with the management company and learning that they were clearing out the loft in two weeks, I knew I had to come gather the things I couldn’t in my rush to escape.
“You don’t have to do this today.” Knox’s voice rumbles from behind me, closer than I expected. When I glance over my shoulder, all three Williams brothers are watching me with identical expressions of concern etched across their features.
Brax shifts his weight from foot to foot. “We could come back another time.”
“Or never,” Jax deadpans.
A laugh bubbles up despite the knot in my stomach. “I need my paintbrushes and the blanket Mom gave me for my eighteenth birthday.” I turn back to face the building, squaring my shoulders. “Besides, it’s just a place. It can’t hurt me.”
But even as I say it, my chest flutters with unease.
The space itself can’t harm me. The memories though?
Those can still cut through the defenses I’ve built.
The last time I was in that apartment, I was throwing clothes into a duffle bag with shaking hands while Theo screamed at me.
Bruises blooming on my biceps. He was calling me crazy, delusional, a talentless hack who should be grateful anyone wanted to buy my work.
“You know he called me delusional? Said I was lucky he let me watch him work, that I should be flattered he found my amateur techniques worth stealing.” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold. “He said I should be thankful.”
They know everything that happened between me and Theo, but it’s still hard to talk about the weeks that led up to me leaving NYC.
The silence stretches between us until Brax clears his throat. “Well, the joke’s on him now. The whole art world knows he was a fraud.”
That much is true. When the FBI started digging into Theo’s finances after those loan sharks killed him, they’d uncovered a whole network of stolen work.
Pieces he’d bought under the table, techniques he’d lifted from students, even some forgeries.
The art community had turned on him as fast as they had on me.
Thanks to Jessica Chen, my name was splashed across news articles as a victim rather than an accomplice.
But the money was long gone, spent on his expensive lifestyle and gambling debts, and honestly?
I don’t even care about that part anymore.
Getting my name cleared was enough for me.
As for my so-called friends in the art community, well, they can all get fucked.
They abandoned me for Theo. I won’t absolve their guilt by pretending like everything is fine.
“Let’s get this over with.” I stride toward the building entrance, my boys falling into step behind me.
The lobby still smells like expensive polish. The elevator ride to the fourth floor takes forever, my stomach dropping with each passing level. When the doors finally slide open, I half expect to see Theo standing there waiting for me, but the hallway is empty.
The apartment has yellow police tape still clinging to the frame.
I push it open and step inside, eyes widening.
I’d been warned that the loan sharks had torn through it, but the place is destroyed.
Furniture overturned, cushions slashed open with stuffing spilling everywhere like cotton snow.
Picture frames lie shattered on the hardwood, and there are holes punched in the drywall where someone got frustrated looking for hidden cash or valuables.
“Jesus,” Jax breathes.
According to Trina, the loan sharks had torn through here looking for anything they could sell after Theo disappeared.
I didn’t bother telling her some of this mess was Theo’s doing.
I eye the spot where he punched a hole in the wall, picking my way through the destruction, heading for what used to be my corner of the bedroom.
Most of my clothes are ruined, but there’s still a plastic bin tucked beside the dresser, left undisturbed.
Inside, I find what I came for: the set of sable brushes Mom had saved up to buy me, a few paint tubes that hadn’t dried out, and the quilt she’d crocheted in blues and greens that reminded her of my eyes.
Theo had said it was too ugly to put out and every time I tried, he’d throw it in the trash.
Luckily I rescued it before it was destroyed, but after so many times of him tossing it, I settled for keeping it safe in this bin.
I close the lid, eyes burning, but I blink back the tears. I’ve already cried enough for Theo.
He won’t get any more tears from me, and even if it makes me a horrible person, I’m glad he’s dead. I turn to let the guys know I’m done but pause when I catch them all standing by the living room wall, staring at a picture; tension radiates off of all three of them like heat waves.
I follow their gaze to a framed photo of me and Theo at some event, his arm possessively tight around my waist, both of us smiling for the camera. I look young in the picture. Young and trying so hard to be someone I thought I should be.
The truth is, I was always who I was meant to be.
Walking over, I lift the frame off its hook and pop the back open, sliding the photo out.
“I never loved him.” The admission comes easier than I expected.
“I think I loved the idea of him, how enigmatic he was. How worldly.” I shrug, studying the stranger in the photo who used to be me.
“I made a lot of bad decisions when I left Big Ridge.”
The photo is flimsy between my fingers, like tissue paper.
“But the best one I ever made was coming home to you three.”
Jax reaches over and plucks the picture from my hand. In one swift motion, he tears it in half, then quarters, then keeps going until it’s nothing but confetti scattered across the destroyed hardwood.
“We’re glad you came back too,” he says, voice rough with emotion.
I smile at him and hold out a hand. “Take me home?”