Chapter 2
CAL
Ican’t say that I’ve been to many baby showers in my lifetime, but there was no chance I could miss this one. Ellison Greene has been my friend since our new teacher orientation at the elementary school. Her sass and fierce loyalty left a mark on me that felt like a brand.
Neither of us were particularly outgoing but she claimed me—sunk her nails into me and then forced me into this wild little family she slowly created.
My lips twitch at the thought. No doubt she’d think I’m being dramatic but it’s true. She created this incredible life, surrounded by her chosen family and, mostly, I’m happy to be a part of it.
I’d met her sister, Arden, after their bombshell of a reunion, and despite the way it all went down, I know Ellison is thrilled to have her sister with her.
The both of them being pregnant at the same time was just a lucky bonus.
Glancing at my watch, I cringe. I’m almost an hour late.
But man, it was worth it.
I was distracted in the best way tonight.
I miss painting. I miss having the time to really immerse myself in it and let my mind wander.
But for whatever reason, on today of all days, I felt inspired.
Walking into my studio was like a sigh of relief, and the feeling of knowing everyday life hasn’t dulled my spark was euphoric.
Everyone has their outlet—their medium. Each stroke of the brush telling its own story before rising into the crescendo like a beautiful dance.
A masterpiece.
Just like the canvas I left to dry.
“So good of you to join us,” Ellison teases as I drop a kiss to her cheek then do the same to Arden. I’ll have to find Montana and Jude later to congratulate them later.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Is there a good reason at least?” she asks, the usual group of women gathered around them.
“Not the juicy gossip you’re hoping for.”
“Why do I keep you around then?” Her smile is full of affection and I just shake my head, motioning to the corner where the gifts are already piled high.
Actually, the presents and the minimal baby decorations are the only indication this isn’t a normal Greene family gathering.
And there have been many.
It’s low-key, most of the guests sitting under the large white tent, a potluck-style feast lining a couple of folding tables. Everything looks beautiful and the food smells delicious.
I’m happy to celebrate Ellison and Arden and their babies, but I can’t shake the itch to run—not just from this gathering but Blackstone Falls.
Part of it is from being in the studio today, the rush of feeling like my art can take me anywhere in the world. It’s the same kind of feeling book enthusiasts get when they fall into the pages of their favorite story.
The words transport you to a different place in time and space and you get to exist in the fantasy for a little while. That’s what painting is for me—that feeling that I can fly. Hell, it’s almost better than an orgasm.
Almost.
But more than that, I think I’ve been avoiding the studio because it makes me restless after I’ve gotten all my pent-up emotion out. Instead of the purge making me feel drained and relieved, like venting to a friend or therapist, I feel like I have to pack up and move.
Start over.
I’ve been here so long.
I shake the thought from my head, running my fingers over the braided rope of my bracelet to ground myself.
This is fine. I want to be here. I made the change for a reason.
It’s true. I’d planted roots the town over from my sister, Hannah, and her husband and the family they’d have one day. Growing up, our life had been as stable as blowing the seeds of a dandelion into the wind. Our parents thought they were giving us the world—and in some ways, they had.
But as an adult, my need for constant change has left me tired, restless, and jaded.
Because I had it all once and it was ripped away.
Ripping myself out of the memory, I take a breath and try to steady myself. Today is not the day for that. It never is. Because the ache in my chest lingers long after the highlight reel from that time in my life goes dark.
Fuck.
Now is really not the time.
I need a distraction and fast.
My gaze scans over everyone gathered, and for a fleeting second I wish that distraction could be something more physical like tall, dark, and oh wow…
As if I summoned him, a man in slacks and a button-up shirt rolled up his forearms looks up from the table and meets my gaze, his eyes piercing and intense.
He doesn’t fit in here, not really, but I chalk it up to someone that Ellison’s father must know, an air of sophistication rolling off him in waves.
Power.
Money.
He’s defined by it—reeks of it—something I’ve sworn I’ll never let happen to me.
Because it’s not only the money that scares me but the loss of my anonymity if my secret were ever to get out.
My heart races a little faster at the knowledge that one wrong move, one slipup, could destroy everything I have and could create.
Good thing I have no interest in talking to this guy.
I lift one eyebrow in question.
An invitation.
His eyes rake over me in response, lingering a beat on my hardening cock before trailing up my body to meet my gaze.
It takes everything in me, but I ignore the little shiver that races down my spine at his perusal and instead smile as I take a sip of the beer I just opened.
I barely taste it.
I just wanted something to do with my hands, but it looks like I have a different option, a better option.
And if things go as planned, I’ll be able to come back out to the party and actually engage with everyone.
Content.
Relaxed.
Normal.
Nodding slightly toward the house, I watch as desire flashes through his gaze, his lips twitching the slightest bit.
His hand motions in a lead the way gesture and so I do, ducking out of the tent and breathing a sigh of relief as the canopy of stars blankets me all the way inside.