53. Tess
TESS
I was starting to worry that I would wear a hole in the soles of my new shoes from walking so much.
The last thing I’d wanted to do was sit still in the Freaks apartment. Especially after what happened a few days ago.
I’d been trying to steer clear of all three of them after realizing they’d known me the entire time I’d been staying at Feverpoint.
But that was a surprisingly tall order despite how massive the amusement park was.
I’d been walking the acres and acres like a monk on a mindfulness retreat. Every corner and edge became second nature as I memorized each nook and cranny of the entire place.
One thing had become incredibly clear, I needed to win Fright Night. That $40k prize would be enough to pay off my debt and run for the hills. Clearly, I couldn’t trust my three captors.
They’d lied to me.
Or at least omitted the truth.
But everywhere I walked, one of the Freaks was always waiting. Always watching.
They didn’t engage or insist on talking to me. All they did was watch.
It was pissing me off.
Today, I was hoping to get a lay of the land in Superhero Central. It was one of the few places I hadn’t been to as a kid — a late addition to the park that held rides primarily for adults.
As I studied the massive fake movie theater, I peeked inside the ticket booth. There was a small door off to the side, one that looked unlocked.
Reaching out my hand, I was just about to press on it when a voice came from behind me.
“Boo.” Nash’s low rumble drew my eyes away from the potential hiding spot, making me jump.
“Jesus fuck.” My heart dropped into my stomach.
A slight smile played at the corners of Nash’s stoic face. “Sorry, Sweet Lamb. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Right.” I licked my teeth and leaned against the ticket booth. “What do you want? I’m kind of busy here.”
“I know, studying. Can’t get away from us fast enough.” Her voice said it was a joke but her gray eyes said otherwise.
I can’t believe it’s really her.
The coqui on her arm made more sense now. I remembered how proud of her Puerto Rican heritage she had been, especially after losing her parents in a car accident.
“Spare me a few minutes?” Nash walked closer, holding out her hand to me.
Pushing it away, I shook my head. “No time.”
Another step closer, Nash’s broad shoulders were starting to box me in. “I promise it’ll be worth it. You can go back to studying after.”
This time it wasn’t a question.
Gritting my teeth, I couldn’t help the way her gentle gaze softened me. I wanted to be angry — and I was. But I also knew that Cyrus was holding some sort of grudge, something that Nash and Blade wouldn’t tell me.
“Just give me a chance, please.” Nash let her fingers graze the skin on my arm, raising goosebumps on my flesh.
My body reacted even when my mind willed it not to. It was obvious that Blade and Nash both knew how to make me weak despite myself.
“You don’t have to forgive me. But let me at least expose my regret.” Nash’s jaw tensed as she looked down at me. Her warm breath made my throat tighten.
Those silver eyes had a way of wearing through me.
“Fine. But be quick.” I nodded behind her, telling her to lead the way.
Nash turned on her heels, the soles of her fullbore boots pushing off the cobblestone as she guided us out of Superhero Central and across the center of Feverpoint.
Staying a few feet behind her, I let Nash guide me back to Jungle Jolt. The faux-foliage seemed to make the wildlife happy, more birds chirping in the canopy than in other parts of the park.
But as we walked, we turned away from the path that would have led us back to the apartment. Instead, Nash turned us down a narrow path to the edge of the park.
The same place she’d taken me when she won Fright Night — her studio.
It looked so different in the daylight, the path no longer a terrifying tangled forest but instead a pleasant nature walk.
But as we reached the steps of her treehouse, I reached out and grabbed Nash’s arm. “You’ll lose a fucking finger if you try to lay one on me.”
A devious smirk took over her face. “As much as I’d love to see you put up a fight, Sweet Lamb, that’s not what this is about.”
Instead, she slipped her hand into mine and intertwined our fingers as she walked up the cascading steps of the treehouse.
I hesitated for a second, letting our hands stretch to the longest length they could.
But when Nash looked at me over her shoulder, I caved to her soft gray eyes and followed her up the steps.
At the top of the steps, rather than kicking the door open like last time, Nash gently turned the knob and opened the door.
“Wow.” I gasped as the studio revealed itself. But I tried to steel my face, not wanting to be impressed by her. Not now.
Bright afternoon light poured into the massive room.
On every wall, sketches and paintings hung from long wires.
Easels scattered across the space, the buckets of paint I’d seen in the dark on Fright Night were now clear to me.
In a variety of colors, I couldn’t imagine Nash being short on supplies.
Nash stepped inside. “Why are you surprised? You’ve already seen it.”
Shaking my head, I let her pull on my arm spur me forward. “Yeah but it was dark and we were… preoccupied.”
My jaw tightened remembering the cast she’d made that night.
What had she done with it?
Walking through the space, I realized that it wasn’t just paintings. Huge metal sculptures loomed over the room.
“You don’t just paint?” I asked as I stretched my neck to see the top of one structure.
“Nope.” Nash laughed, the deep sound sending a jolt of heat to my core. “Not what I want to show you though.”
Walking farther into the studio, Nash pulled open a dangling wall of vines.
She gestured for me to walk in, but I stood firm. “What are we doing here?”
“Come in and find out.” Nash looked down at me, her broad frame imposing as it towered over me just like one of metal sculptures.
I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped into the second studio space.
“Holy shit.” My jaw dropped.
As if I hadn’t seen what was plastered to every surface in the room, Nash started speaking, “I couldn’t show you this until you knew who we were. But I wanted to. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest.”
Everywhere I looked there were pictures of my face. Some of them were of me the last time Nash would have seen me. But through the years, Nash aged me up. She’d used her talents to picture me as I grew up.
Dozens of portraits were strewn across the studio. Some were complete, shaded and painted. But others were half drawn, like the mere memory of me had made her stop in her tracks.
Stopping at a butcher block worktable, I spread out a few pieces. She hadn’t been far off of how my face ended up looking. A few of the earlier sketches — the incomplete ones — were abandoned halfway, replaced by clearer visions of my adult face.
“I was waiting for you. All these years, all I wanted was to see your face again.” Standing at the center of the studio, Nash clasped her hands together.
I couldn’t look away from the art spread out in front of me.
Until my eyes caught on a long metal rod, a wide, flat piece attached to its end.
Walking around the table, I took a look. The embossed design of three swords stabbing a heart was undeniably familiar to me.
I let my fingers touch the rough metal. Their brand.
How had they made this here of all places?
My eyes went back to the finished paintings, catching on the backgrounds now. Some of them were regular settings. But some were mystic depictions of the swords and heart.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Nash rubbed her brow, wiping sweat before words kept falling from her lips. “I saw you in my dreams. When I couldn’t sleep, I’d come here and paint you.”
Looking over my shoulder at her, I swallowed hard. “You knew it was me?”
Nash shrugged. “I couldn’t know. Call it an instinct. The second you walked into the park, I knew something was different about you.”
My chest was tight, my heart racing against my sternum, threatening to break the bones if they constricted any tighter.
They didn’t forget me.
And despite Cyrus’ rage, it was clear that Nash had no intention of hurting me. If she did, she wouldn’t have bothered to reveal her obsession.
“I’m not asking for your forgiveness.” Nash shook her head as she crossed the studio and closed the distance between us. “But you need to know that I never stopped dreaming of finding you, Tess.”
Standing in front of her, looking up into her magnetizing eyes, I bit my lip. “At least you know better than to ask for absolution.”
My trust wasn’t easily won. Especially once it was lost.
“But it’s a start.” I couldn’t help the smile that played on my lips.
And clearly, neither could Nash. “Good, Sweet Lamb.”
Pushing into her chest, I put some space between us — afraid of what I might let her do if I didn’t cut the tension that built in the room.
Despite the show I was putting on, I could tell from the tug in my chest that my Freaks might just be able to pull themselves out of the hole of lies they’d dug.
I would just have to stick around to see it.