Coraline
Today, for the first time in a long time, I had the overwhelming urge to pick up a pencil. A paintbrush. My iPad. Even a notebook to pen new stories, bottling up inside my brain. I feel inspired, and I can’t contain my excitement.
I felt the need to dream again.
It’s also the first time I thought about what it would feel like to have my first one-night stand or to kiss a man I just met. I’ve never been the adventurous type.
Always too afraid. Always too scared to live. Always insecure.
But when Gavin talks or looks at me, I forget that I’m hurting and sad. I know we just met, but there’s a connection. One I can’t understand or justify, but only feel. My gut is telling me to chase after this feeling because life is too short, and I want to start living again.
I look up from the thriller book I found on Gavin’s bookshelf and sneak another glance at him.
We’ve been avoiding each other throughout the cabin, but stealing glances all afternoon.
He’s bending down, dressed in jeans, socks, with an all-black shirt that hugs his body so right.
The veins in his biceps bulge as he tosses another log into the fireplace.
The flames swallow it, and orange sparks filter through.
The crackles grow punchier and the flames longer.
The worst of the snowstorm is over. The roads will clear soon, and then I can leave.
I flick my gaze to Gavin, who continues to sift through the wood with a metal pike.
I know he’s doing it to pretend he’s busy.
He’s been avoiding me ever since we nearly kissed outside.
Or maybe it’s me who’s avoiding him, I don’t know.
But what I do know is that I don’t want to leave without knowing what Gavin tastes like. I twirl my wedding ring on my finger, which I’ve been holding onto since the separation.
To hell with Liam.
Our divorce will be finalized soon. I’m just waiting for him to sign the papers, which, for some odd reason, he’s been dodging for far too long already. I’m not going to let Liam steal another moment from me.
It’s time to let go. It’s time to go after things I want and right now, I want to kiss a handsome cowboy without feeling guilty about it.
Specifically Gavin.
I slide the ring off my finger. The wedding bands are soldered, so it all slides off with one slow pull.
I thought my heart would crack as I did it, but I feel nothing.
Nothing for the man I used to hold so high.
I don’t feel anything because Gavin is showing me that real men exist. Men who uplift my dreams;not slander them into the ground.
How is that a man I just met is already outdoing him in every single way?
I slide the ring into my jeans pocket and tug at my bottom lip. Before I can walk over to him, three loud knocks thunder through the house.
It has to be Merelyn or Georgia. I haven’t seen them in a few days.
Gavin beats me to it first. He unlocks the door and swings it open. Merelyn stands there, alone, wrapped head to toe in warm clothing, nothing but her grey-blue orbs glowing against her fair skin. The wrinkles around her eyes crease as the tips of her lips curve upwards.
“I brought over Shepherd's Pie!” Merelyn holds up a tray wrapped in aluminum.
“So, Coraline Rosa. What do you paint?” Merelyn asks, genuinely curious. I can hear it in her voice.
Gavin told Merelyn everything from my name to my career, and how I ended up in Sleepy Coldwater attending the Holly Jolly Arty Event as she served us both.
“Mostly oil paintings. I like painting skeletons, flowers, and sometimes people. Drawing people is challenging, and I’m still learning, but I love it.
Sometimes, I’ll get frustrated during the process, but it’s all worth it in the end.
I have to remind myself to be patient, but as I said, it’s always worth it in the end. ”
“You love what you do?”
“Yes. It’s been a privilege to do this. I love art.
It’s…my outlet. A passion that reminds me every so often that I’ll be okay when I’m feeling like everything is too heavy, I pick up a pencil and get lost. I forget I’m hurting, even if it’s only for a few minutes, it helps.
” I shake my head as I remember the moment I stopped dreaming and creating.
I quit because I was forced into a hole, experiencing an unexpected affair.
“But I stopped drawing. It’s been a couple of months since I created. Life lately has been…cruel, I guess.”
Maybe I’m oversharing, but I’m very passionate about what I do.
I can’t help but get emotional over the thing that consistently saves my life—the one thing I can depend on.
Art will never hurt me. It saves me, tugs on my heartstrings, and doesn’t stop playing until the darkness fades away.
I don’t realize I’m tearing up until tears cling to my lashes and my vision blurs, unable to see.
I dip my head forward and focus on the last little bit of food on my plate, and push it around with my fork.
I hate that I’m so emotional sometimes. I feel so deeply, and it gets me in trouble. I quickly regain my composure by blinking hard and fast.
Hopefully, Gavin doesn’t notice I’m having a moment.
But when my eyes land on his face, my heart flips in my chest. He notices everything.
Shit. I expect him to belittle me because Liam always did.
He would constantly invalidate my feelings, making me feel crazy with an eye roll, or asking me to get over myself whenever I tried to go to him during moments of need.
I don’t know why I stayed for so long, but I felt like all of this was normal… until it wasn’t.
Instead, Gavin matches my emotions with a frown, taking me by surprise.
He seems empathetic, as he stares directly at me.
Something brushes against my shoe, drawing my attention to the ground.
I purse my lips, fighting back a cheery grin, when I realize it’s Gavin’s boot running against my toes, softly.
The gesture is understanding and thoughtful.
“Maybe you can paint me something, yeah? Before you leave?” Merelyn asks, tearing me away from Gavin.
“I would love to! I can draw something with a pencil and paper. When I’m not drawing on my iPad, I’ll pick up a pencil and paper and change up my style to refuel my creativity.”
“Amazing. Promise?” Merelyn asks with a giddy smile. “Maybe a portrait of beautiful me?” she teases, leaning forward.
“I promise,” I reply.
“I can get you that,” Gavin says as he lifts his beer to his lips, winking. It’s another Shiner Bock. That’s his favorite. “A pencil and paper. Whatever you draw, I’ll frame it,” he finishes.
I flush, and my mouth drops for a second.
“It usually takes me two to three weeks to finish a piece,” I admit, shyly.
“Oh, the roads should be cleared in about a week,” Merelyn replies. That’s quicker than I thought. Gavin flinches while I jump in my seat excitedly.
“Oh, that’s great! I think my family is going crazy, worried about me. Does your phone and internet work now?” I ask, straightening my spine, hoping she’ll say yes. I’m sure my parents are worried sick. It’s unlike me to go a day without speaking to my mother, let alone weeks.
I’m lucky enough to say that my parents love me like they can’t live without me.
Yes, they fought frequently, but they always put my sister and me first. They always attended every talent show and awards ceremony.
They always showed up for any little thing they could.
We take annual family trips to the beach or mountains, and I go to my dad’s house to watch every Dallas Cowboys football game because I know he’s going to BBQ.
My mouth waters when I remember how amazing my dad’s brisket comes out every single time—the cooler full of Dr. Pepper.
I hope they’re not worrying too much.
My heart cracks when I realize Gavin never had any of that growing up.
“Not at the moment, no,” she says as she puts a spoonful in her mouth.
I slow my chewing. “Where’s the closest phone?
” I ask after spooning down ground beef.
Gavin narrows his gaze. A grim expression replaces his once blissful smile.
His lips are pressed as he chews. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I have to know.
” I grab my napkin and slowly tap my lips.
“I need to get going. There are so many things I need to get done. My family needs to know I’m okay.
I need to report the accident to the police and hire a detective to find out who has been sending me these messages. I keep having nightmares and seeing–”
Ghosts.
Merelyn interrupts before I can say it.
“What kind of nightmares, dear?” Merelyn places her cold, veiny hand on mine comfortingly.
“One moment, I see myself driving, and the next thing I know, I’m rolling down the hill, over and over again. Or I’ll dream about a man wielding a butcher knife, chasing me through the trees. Just your usual nightmares,” I say sarcastically. “I’m sure my parents are wondering where I am.”
“Where are they? Where’s home for you, dear?”
“Texas. I’m from San Antonio.”
Gavin clears his throat loudly. A deep sound reverberates in his chest and slices through the suspenseful tension brewing at the dinner table. Is the conversation upsetting him?
He stands, his chair scooting back loudly against the floor. He grabs his empty plate and utensils and reluctantly hurries to the kitchen.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Texas. Gavin was stationed at Fort Hood for training.
Gavin’s grandfather taught him how to bull ride as soon as he could walk, before he passed away.
He was only there for about six months, but he told me he liked it.
Isn’t that right, Gavin? Tell her about the local rodeos you were in while you were there. ”
We both turn to him. He’s drinking beer like it’s water.
He sets it down on the counter with a loud clink.
He doesn’t bother looking at us when he nods.
Instead, his attention is on the porch, looking through the kitchen window.
The sun is almost down. Streaks of dark grey reflect through his blue eyes, illuminating his face.
He looks stressed.
“Yeah, I haven’t done it in a while because of my injury. I know I still can, but…” He trails off like he doesn’t want to talk about it. Grabbing a toothpick, he places it in between his teeth. I wait for him to continue, but he just fixates on the beer and shrugs nonchalantly.
Is bullriding the passion he doesn’t get to do anymore?
Is he upset that I have to go? My home is in Texas.
I purse my lips, placing my hands on my lap nervously. He’s shutting down again. I know that look, and I don’t miss it. I want the Gavin who lets himself smile.
“Where’s the closest neighbor? I’m sure they have a phone, right? I mean, I know the blizzard was bad, but—”
A loud crash of dishes blares over the howling winds and crackles of fire.
I jump in my seat while my heart leaps to my throat.
Merelyn slowly shifts her gaze over my shoulder.
I follow her worried gaze, and it lands upon Gavin’s cold expression.
His chest rises and falls like he’s trying to catch his breath.
He clenches his jaw, and we hold each other’s stare for a good five seconds, but it feels like minutes.
“Gavin, honey, everything alright?” Merelyn’s concerned tone rings into our ears, and she tilts her head to the side like she’s trying to figure him out.
He gives me one last disapproving glare and then forces himself to turn to Merelyn. He deadpans, becoming unpredictable like the day we first met.
“Going to go see the horses and make sure they’re okay. Thank you for dinner.” He cups her shoulder softly, not meeting my eyes.
She nods in response. He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out the familiar red and white pack of cigarettes, and walks outside, disappearing into the darkness. He shuts his door harder than normal—the once peaceful mood shifts into something tense.
Why is he so upset? He knows I’m leaving soon. I have to go. It’s inevitable.
I turn back to my almost empty plate with a sudden loss of appetite.
“Coraline. The closest neighbor is about twenty miles away. Gavin owns most of this land up here.”
All of this land is Gavin’s?
Does Gavin come from money?
“Merelyn. How did Gavin’s parents pass?”
She stiffens.
“He hasn’t told you?”
“No.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s never talked much.” She sighs, taking in a deep breath before her wandering eyes land on mine. She massages her fingers apprehensively. “Dear… the Sleepy Coldwater Serial Killer murdered them.”