Chapter 25
twenty-five
SEBASTIAN
“Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer? It’s just getting good.” Tristan, my fourteen-year-old buddy, asks with a pout.
I’ll give it to the kid. Any other day, his whole schtick would work. Unfortunately, I really do have to pack up my cards today. “Sorry, man. I have a date.”
That wipes the look off his face. His brow lifts, the skin where his eyebrows should be arching dramatically. “A date? You’ve never left a session early for a girl.”
“She must be pretty,” Savannah says. She’s thirteen, and starting to notice boys.
Like Tristan. But if Tristan’s noticed, he hasn’t let on, so I don’t either.
Savvy tucks a strand of limp hair behind her ear.
She’s started losing it, and I know she’s self-conscious about it, but her mom told me she’s not ready to shave her head and let that piece of herself go.
“She is pretty.” I pull out my phone and open my photo app. I scroll through my camera roll and pull up a photo of Indie from our afternoon at the sculpture park. “Wanna see her?”
“Do you guys kiss?” our youngest group member, Declan, asks. He’s only ten, and still firmly in the girls are icky camp.
I chuckle. I love these kids. “Yeah, bud, sometimes we kiss.”
“Gross.”
“That’s not gross,” Savvy says with a dramatic eye roll. “It’s romantic.”
“Let’s see.” Tristan holds out a hand, and I pass him my phone. He studies Indie’s photo, glancing up at me a couple of times, before a little smile tugs at his lips. “I like her hair.”
“Oh, pink.” Savannah smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “Maybe my mom will let me dye my hair pink when it grows back.”
“I bet she will,” Tristan says definitively. “You’d look really pretty with pink hair, Savvy.”
Savannah blushes and ducks her head. Declan snorts, but when Tris elbows him, he clears his throat.
“Yeah. It’ll look good.”
“Thanks,” Savvy says.
“Tell you what. When you beat this, I’ll pay for a whole spa day if your mom says yes. For both of you. You can dye your hair whatever color your mom agrees to.” I reach over and give Savvy’s forearm a little squeeze.
“You mean it?”
God, the youthful hope in her voice kills me. She shouldn’t have to deal with this. None of these kids should. “Absolutely.”
“Can we have spa days too?” Declan asks.
“Yeah, bud. Spa days all around. Deal?”
He nods, his pale face lighting up. When he smiles, you almost don’t notice the hollows under his eyes. “Deal!”
“Do you think we could paint some miniatures again soon?” Tristan changes the subject, and my heart squeezes painfully.
This isn’t his first rodeo. I met him two years ago when he was here fighting off his leukemia for the first time.
They thought he’d beaten it, but it came back six months ago.
I know he’s afraid to jinx himself by making plans for when he beats the cancer, but I know he will.
They all will.
“Of course. Any requests? I’ll bring the stuff.”
The three of them rattle off the figures they’re hoping to add to their collections, and I promise to get everything they want.
It’s always hard to tear myself away from these kids, but I tell them I’ll be back as soon as I can sneak in another Dungeons and Dragons session.
They give me fist bumps and hugs, tell me to have a good date, and wish me luck in my next game.
I need to get the team to make another visit to Children’s Minnesota. It’s been a while since we’ve done any community outreach here, but the guys always love hanging out with the kids. And these kids are near and dear to my heart.
I’ll make it happen.
“Night, Sarah.” I wave to the charge nurse on my way out and promise to bring bagels for the unit the next time I visit.
The mid-May afternoon is bright and sunny, and I wish all my little friends were healthy enough to be out here, living life, running around, enjoying it.
As always, I’m filled with worry for the kids and gratitude that my own brothers and all of my cousins are healthy.
Though I know how quickly that can change.
I wonder if Indie would join me one day? I’m not ready to share this part of my life with her—I haven’t even told the guys about my little Dungeons and Dragons club, and I’ve been doing this for two years—but maybe if she sticks around…
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to stay focused on the here and now so I don’t miss anything. There’s no sense worrying about a game happening a month from now and messing up the one you’re currently playing.
My head’s a jumble as I drive to Indie’s. Between the kids, the playoffs, and Indie, my life has never been more chaotic. I’m used to some level of crazy, thanks to my teammates, but I can usually still find some sense of control.
That’s getting harder and harder to do.
But I push all of that aside when I pull up in front of Indie’s rental and knock on her door. I’m going to enjoy the moment.
Indie looks beautiful. She may be wearing an old hoodie and some ripped jeans, but standing there in the doorway, the lights inside creating a glowing halo around her, she could be wearing tattered rags and I’d still think she was the most ethereal thing I’ve ever seen.
“Hi.” Blushing, she tucks a strand of her pink hair behind her ear.
Most of it is pulled back into a ponytail, but the strands that frame her face are too short and curl freely.
She looks up at me through the fringe of her lashes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
When her arms twitch at her sides, I grin.
She’s not sure how to greet me. That’s okay. I know how I want to greet her.
“C’mere, Rosebud.” Before she has time to react, I wrap my arms around Indie and pull her against my chest for a tight hug.
She’s stiff for a moment, then she wraps her arms around my stomach and grips my back.
Letting out a soft sigh, she presses her cheek to my chest, and I let mine rest on the top of her head.
She smells good. Like citrus and sunshine. At least, I imagine this is what sunshine would smell like. She’s my sunshine.
“I still can’t believe I get to hug you again after all these years.”
She hums. “I know.”
We stand like that for another minute or two, right there on the front porch, the door to her rental still open. At one point, I glimpse Lola inside with a massive smile on her face. She gives me a head nod before disappearing and leaving us alone. “You ready to go?”
She nods against me.
“And you’re wearing stuff that can get ruined?”
“I am. Are you really not going to tell me what we’re doing?” She pulls away and looks up at me with one eyebrow arched.
I kiss her on the nose. “Nope.”
The soft tinkle of her laugh vibrates through me, filling me with helium. I could float away if she keeps doing that.
“Do you trust me?”
She doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”
Yep. I’m in danger of floating away.
“Then let’s go. We don’t want to be late.” When I reach for her hand, our fingers slot together like they were made to.
“Welcome to Beautiful Mess Arts,” a smiling young woman chirps as we walk through the door. “I’m Bailey. You must be Mr. Navarro and Miss Bloom.”
Indie’s eyes are wide as she takes in the space. The entryway is painted in bright white, but there are massive paint-splattered paintings covering the walls in wild, vibrant colors. It’s much more curated looking than what waits for us.
“Hey, Bailey. Just Bash and Indie is fine.” I hold out my hand to shake hers.
The young woman smiles brightly, her rainbow-colored hair bouncing as she nods. “Of course. Well, it’s nice to meet both of you. Are you ready to get messy?”
“We sure are,” I answer for both of us, since Indie still doesn’t know what to expect.
“Awesome. Then please follow me.”
Linking my fingers with Indie’s, we follow Bailey as she leads us into a long, narrow room covered in paint splatters. It’s chaotic and messy, and some splatters reach almost up to the high ceiling.
“What is this place?” Indie whispers.
“Beautiful Mess is an art studio for people who want to let loose,” Bailey says over her shoulder.
She comes to a stop in front of two large canvases hanging on the paint-covered wall.
Turning to us, she grins. “We believe there’s no right or wrong way to express yourself, but we’re partial to getting messy. ”
“I can see that,” Indie says, chuckling.
“You can use anything here. Any of the paints, paintbrushes, straws, pipe cleaners, your hands… Whatever strikes your fancy. Throw the paint, splatter it, pour it, or brush it. There’s no right or wrong.
” Bailey points to a few examples lined up along the opposite wall.
“The studio is all yours for the next two hours. I’ll get out of your hair and hang out at the front desk, but please holler if you need help or more supplies. ”
“Thanks, Bailey. I appreciate it.” I give the colorful woman a nod as she leaves us alone. Then I turn to Indie and arch an eyebrow. “Ready to make a masterpiece, Miss Bloom?”
Indie laughs. It’s a bright, almost startled sound, and I revel in it, because I’ve managed to surprise her.
I went back and forth about where to take her for days.
Did I choose something extravagant? Something candle-lit and romantic?
Should I take her somewhere public or keep things private?
We’ve been apart long enough that I didn’t feel nearly as sure about what to do as I would have ten years ago.
Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have even had to think about it. I would have simply known what to do and where to take her.
But the expression on her face? All of my debating was well worth it, because Indie has that bright-eyed look I lived for when we were teenagers.
“I don’t know about a masterpiece.” Her fingers trail over the tools laid out for us, and I swear I almost feel the exploratory touches on my skin.
“Masterpiece,” I reiterate. “If you don’t want to take it home and hang it up, I will.”
She laughs at that. “You have entirely too much faith in me.”
“Not possible.” I cup her cheek and enjoy the way her breath hitches. Her skin is warm beneath my lips when I press a kiss to her forehead. “Now, let’s get messy.”
“This should be interesting.” Indie reaches for a bottle of cerulean blue paint and studies the large, blank canvas in front of her. Her lips twitch a few times, her eyes bouncing from side to side as she does some kind of internal calculations I wish I were privy to.
She nods once to herself, grabs a large paintbrush, like the kind you’d use to paint a wall, and squeezes a big glop of blue onto it. Then she makes a slashing motion with the brush, sending paint flying. It splatters the canvas in a tight arch, and Indie’s face lights up with a beautiful smile.
“Oh, that was fun.” She adds more paint to the brush and does it again, this time changing the angle of the brush and the splatter. “Come on, Bash.”
I’d be happy simply watching her, but she’d never stand for that. So I follow her lead, choose a brush, and pour a generous amount of yellow paint onto the flat of it before letting it fly.
“Satisfying, right?” She has a little speck of blue on her cheek, and quite a few on her jeans and tennis shoes.
Reaching out, I wipe the paint off her cheek with my thumb. “Definitely.”
The perfect shade of pink paints her cheeks, and I can’t help it. I lean down and take her mouth in a quick, hard kiss. She rewards me with a quiet little gasp that I swallow down.
“All right, Rosebud. Let’s do this. Show me what you’ve got.”