Epilogue
RAYNE, SIX MONTHS LATER
Hunter’s first gallery show is an explosion of color.
He’s not used to drawing attention to himself.
With anything other than violence, at least.
When I arrive at the show with Weston, Noah, Ollie, and Roman, I scan the room and spot Hunter at one end, leaning against the wall.
He’s wearing a black suit with a crimson tie, and his hair falls perfectly in a messy swoop.
I bite back a smile. “Look at him acting like he isn’t the star of this show.”
“Look at you acting like you don’t want to go grab him and fuck him against that wall,” Oliver says, then whips a hand up to clasp over his mouth. “Shit. Sorry, Weston.”
Weston gives Ollie a shove. “You guys can stop acting like I’m going to lose my mind if you reference their relationship. Rayne and Hunter know that I love them both, even if I’m going to make fun of them for their relationship any time I can.”
Noah snickers. “And you’d do that even if you weren’t related to Hunter. Let’s be real.”
“Damn right.”
The small campus art gallery has about ten of Hunter’s paintings hanging along various walls. Each painting is a different size, lit by a spotlight, and people are milling around the gallery, chatting and inspecting the art.
Hunter’s paintings look like landscapes at first, intensely colored in almost neon shades.
But when you look closer, there’s always something hidden in the landscapes.
One of them depicts an Old West style cowboy with red eyes, sitting back against a tree.
Another has dark, gothic fairy-type creatures hidden among a tree’s leaves.
Hunter finally looks up to see us, and he looks relieved, walking over.
I pull him into a hug and give him a kiss.
“I was about to lose my mind being here alone,” he says. “A bunch of strangers, inspecting and judging my personal art pieces? Not exactly my favorite thing.”
It’s the first time in my entire life I’ve ever seen Hunter get bashful.
“They all seem to love it, though,” Oliver says. “I heard a guy say he’d hang that snowy forest one on his wall.”
“The one with the little evil foxes,” Noah chimes in.
Hunter furrows his brow. “They’re not evil. They’re little demon fox spirits, protecting that forest, not harming it.”
“Even better.”
As we walk around the gallery, I keep some form of contact with Hunter at all times.
A hand on the small of his back.
A gentle touch on his shoulder.
And as time passes, I can feel him relaxing and the nerves melting away. Especially as the gallery gets more and more people passing through, and so many of them talk about how much they love the art.
One older woman in particular comes through, her heels clicking as her eyes dance over the paintings. She has short grey hair and she’s dressed elegantly, in a long green dress.
“You’re the artist?” she says to Hunter.
He pulls in a breath, standing taller. “That’s me.”
“I’ve seen your pieces online. I’m Madeline Wells. I’m an art director in a gallery in New York City.”
She reaches out to shake Hunter’s hand.
Hunter has been uploading photographs of his paintings to a popular art website, and they’ve gained traction slowly and steadily.
“Pleasure to meet you. This is my boyfriend, Rayne Colson.”
“Are you an artist, too?” Madeline asks.
I snort. “If you consider running with a football to be a form of art? Maybe.”
Madeline’s serious expression suddenly shifts and she laughs, clear and bright.
“I’ve been so interested in the way Hunter works with color theory. It’s masterful. Reminds me of Rothko, but if he focused on impressionistic landscapes like Monet.”
Hunter actually blushes when she makes that comparison. I know nothing about art, but I can tell he’s glad for the compliment.
For the next five minutes, the two of them get lost in a conversation about art, and pride surges inside me.
Hunter needs this.
I feel like he may have needed it for his whole life, and never known it.
Especially after this year’s events, he needs a win.
Hunter’s been haunted by his father’s betrayal and passing, even though the two of them certainly were never close.
But he’s also been dwelling on Briar.
The fact that he had a true friend, for the first time in forever, and she turned out to be a source of betrayal, too.
It’s the kind of thing that could break someone’s ability to trust for a lifetime.
Seeing him put his art out in the world and receive praise like this is monumental.
He has a place in this world.
Clearly.
He’s just never known it.
Soon after, three familiar faces walk in.
James, Ethan, and Ezra.
The founding members of Onyx society have very busy lives and I don’t always get to see them, so it’s a small surprise, even for me.
They come over to greet us, and James keeps looking over at one of the paintings.
“I’ll give you 10 for it,” James says. “It’s worth far more, I’m sure, but if no one else is vying for that piece, that’s my starting bid.”
For a minute I think he means 10 bucks, and I raise an eyebrow. “Hunter put in a lot of work on that. Weeks of work.”
James has millions from his career in tech.
“You’re right. 20k,” James says. “Still probably undervalued. I think you’ll be a very successful artist very soon, Knox.”
I practically feel like I could fall over hearing a number that high.
“It’s yours. No cost,” Hunter offers.
Oh. Right.
Hunter has millions now, too.
“Going to fight you for that piece, J,” Ezra says, coming over.
I feel like I’m among living legends.
And in a way, I know it’s true.
But the only thing I can focus on is Hunter’s slight smile. A smile that has an ocean of meaning behind it.
A smile that never used to be possible for him.
You’re not broken, I think, trying to hold myself back from tackling him with a kiss right then.
You’ve been fucking perfect all along.
The next two hours of the gallery show go by in a flash. More and more people come up to talk to Hunter about his work.
By the end, it’s like we’ve been through the best kind of whirlwind, and after the gallery closes for the evening, I’m the last one to walk out with Hunter.
He feels for my hand.
That’s another thing he does all the time now, without hesitation. He holds my hand, because Hunter Knox isn’t afraid of romance anymore, either.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him, giving his hand a squeeze.
“Overwhelmed. Exhausted. And also feeling like I just had one of the best nights of my life.”
I pull him into a side hug, pressing kisses to his hair. “You’re an ahh-tist, babe. The whole world knows it now, too.”
“It’s only possible because of you,” he says softly.
We’re walking beneath the canopy of trees on the Crimson quad now.
The same place that I was running at the start of last semester, dreading the fact that Hunter was coming to campus.
And now I can’t imagine living without him.
“I think we both know you’ve been talented for a lifetime.”
“But I’d never be able to get back into it without you. Rayne, you’ve made me feel like I can be a person again.”
“Oh, stop.”
He comes to a standstill, and I turn and look in his eyes.
He looks thankful, yes. Loving.
But he also has that possessive glint in his eyes that I’ve come to love more than anything.
“You are mine, Rayne,” he tells me. “I don’t have to touch you. I don’t even have to look. And you know it, too.”
“Did you ever think it would be any other way?”
There’s nowhere else for us to be than here, out on the quad, surrounded by the song of the crickets in the night air.
“Yes,” he tells me with a grin. “Thought you’d act all defiant forever.”
I bite my lower lip. “Maybe I will.”
“Get over here,” he says, yanking me toward him and crushing a kiss to my lips.
And my world explodes into radiant color. Artwork of his making that I melt into in his arms.
“Hey,” I say against his lips, pulling back a little. “If I were a color, what would I be?”
He runs his hand along the edge of my jaw.
“Gold,” he tells me softly. “Radiant gold.”
“Fuck, I love you.”
“Love you too. Now take me home and fuck me so I can feel normal again?”
“That’s the plan.”
As we walk home together, I’m thinking of another plan I have, too.
And he doesn’t know that I have a ring picked out for him that’s also a radiant shade of gold.
I might wait until we graduate to pop that question.
Or I might get too impatient and do it this summer.
But both of us know it’s happening, sooner or later.
I’m certain that I’m woven together with Hunter by fate. That his flame will burn inside me forever, and mine inside him.
Wild, hot as fire, and always a little broken. That’s the way we love.
And exactly what we’re made for.