Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2) (17 page)

I groaned and peeked up. Mr. Hunter stood with his arms crossed over his chest. I sighed and rolled down my window.

“Weston.”

“Mr. Hunter.”

“It’s Steve, Wes. I assume you are here looking for my daughter.”

“Yes, Mr. Hunter.” I nodded and sat up a little straighter.

He sighed. “When did you decide to start calling me Mr. Hunter?”

“Since I started having impure thoughts about your daughter,” I blurted out.

He didn’t say anything.

I didn’t say anything.

Crickets didn’t say anything.
Say something, crickets!

“So, I’m guessing she’s not home?” I asked manning up to the crickets.

“No, Wes. She’s at August’s house watching a movie with Kensie.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hunter.” I nodded. “I’ll try there.” I reached down to crank my window up when his hand slammed onto the glass, holding it in place.

“And Wes? You’re like a son to me, but you break my baby girl’s heart and I’ll break those pretty, colorful arms. We clear?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir,” I agreed, and he dropped his hand from the glass. I rolled that window up as fast as I could and peaced out of that driveway. Mr. Hunter was clearly going to be a tough sell. I’d have to send him a fruit basket or something.

Round two. I knocked on August’s door impatiently. My need to see Capri had increased tenfold. I needed to see her smile shyly at me when she didn’t want to and hear her laugh freely with me because no one was around. I needed to hold her in my arms and kiss her until my feet steadied on the ground.

I held my ear to the door and listened closely. I could hear the drone of the movie the girls were watching, so I knew they were in there. I used to help myself into August’s house with his spare not-so-hidden key, but after his ex, Bree, paid Kensie a surprise visit with that key, he’d removed it.

I raised my hand to knock on the door again, when it flew open. “Oh hey, dude,” I said stuffing my hands into my pockets.

“Wes,” August said walking away from the door and leaving it open for me. “Let’s go out to the garage. The girls are watching a chick flick,” he called behind him.

“I’m actually not here to see you, dude,” I said stepping cautiously into the house. I immediately spotted Capri curled up in the chair and breathed in relief.

She sat up quickly and straightened out her hair. “Wes?” she shrieked a little loud.

“Hey, C,” I said fiddling with a piece of lint in the bottom of my pocket.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with her eyes round and cheeks stained red. Gorgeous.

“I came to see you,” I said.

“What the hell?” August said from the kitchen. I looked at him and shrugged. I couldn’t accurately explain to him why I’d sought out his sister in the middle of the night, but he had to understand the desperation of wanting to see your girl. My head shot back to Capri.
My girl
.

My. Girl.

My. Girl.

My girl.

My girl, My girl, My girl.

“Fuck, it’s hot in here, dude,” I said and stepped quickly back outside. I put my hands above my head and paced back and forth in front of the door. Then I heard the quiet click of it shutting.

“Wes.” Her voice was so soft; I could barely hear it above the racket in my head. I dropped my arms to my side and blew out a puff of air through my lips.

She walked slowly up to me and took one of my hands in her own. “Hi,” she said shyly. I rubbed across her fingers with my thumb. “Hey, baby.” My girl. She’d either ruined me or made me. Depended on how you looked at things.

Then she brought her other hand up around my neck and pulled me down toward her, meeting my lips with hers. She kissed me softly and sweetly. I’d never in my life been kissed like this, with such care. I sighed into her mouth and gripped her face in my hands, deepening the kiss. This was what I’d needed. She was what I needed.

M
uch like how I’d gone to bed the last few nights, I’d woken up with a smile. Not much had progressed with Wes and me since he’d shown up at August’s to see me, but at the same time,
everything
had changed.

Wes and I still only saw each other when we were at the youth center, but now we spent the time between brushstrokes stealing kisses. I still painted him at night, but now his sweet texts and quick phone calls interrupted me. My last text was this morning when he told me to have fun with the boys. I’d replied that I would since the most troublesome of the three would be absent today.

Wes told me a few days ago that he wouldn’t make it in today. He had a meeting at the shop that was going to take up most of the day, so I was on my own with Jordan and Ridge. This could either go amazing or be a complete disaster.

“Good morning, Ms. C.” Ridge strolled in with a familiar swagger holding out a large coffee toward me. So far, amazing.

“Thank you,” I said taking the coffee.

“Oh, it’s not from me. My dad and I had breakfast with Wes, and he sent it with me for you.” Ridge tossed his backpack to its place by the door.

I smiled bringing the warm cup to my mouth but stopped when I saw words scratched onto the side. I held it up and read ‘I hope your day is as tight as your ass.’ Then I snorted. Coffee and a compliment—that was how every woman deserved to start her day.

Almost immediately after Ridge had arrived, Jordan showed. He dragged his feet through the door mumbling under his breath and chucked his bag next to Ridge’s. If that didn’t give away his mood, the fact that his brows were furrowed clear down to his upper lip was a good indication that he was not having the best of mornings.

“Whelp, we’re out of blue paint so hold off on the rest of the water for now, but other than that, the mural is yours.” I opened my hand to the wall, welcoming them to get started.

Each boy began readying his supplies; pouring paint into cups, loosening the brush bristles, and laying out drop cloths. Ridge immediately got to work on the design he had been doing last time. Jordan, however, seemed to be struggling with where to get started.

He dipped his brush into the paint, swirled it, then pulled the brush out and watched it fall from the bristles back into the cup. He did this a number of times before I recognized what was going on.

Just this past New Year’s Eve, the five of us dressed up and went downtown for the night. I stupidly took extra care to try to make myself look just like all the girls I’d watched Wes with over the years. My sequin dress was too mini, the curls of my hair were too big, and my stiletto’s were too high. It worked, though.

I had gotten Wes’ attention and held it almost the whole night, right up until ten minutes till midnight. That was when Wes found me on the dance floor, wrapping his arms around me from behind and moved us rhythmically to the music. When he moved away from me, I turned to face him and found him tangled up with someone else. Another girl. I was just another girl.

I caught a cab shortly thereafter and retreated to my room to paint. The problem was that I couldn’t. I couldn’t own up to that fact I had brought that humiliation onto myself. I didn’t want to accept that Wes would never see me how I wished he would.

“You stuck?” I asked Jordan practically tippy toeing up to him.

“Huh?” he replied but didn’t take his eyes away from the brush.

“I do that sometimes too, you know,” I said turning to look at the mural. For some reason, I thought he’d open up more if I pretended my focus wasn’t entirely on him.

“Do what?” He let the brush go, dropping it into the paint cup.

“I get my drive stuck behind my emotions,” I said peeking over at him out of the corner of my eye.

“What do you mean?” he asked bringing his brows up a smidge. Progress.

“Sometimes life gets in the way. Sometimes it plants itself right in the middle of my purpose. Sometimes life makes my heart bigger than my will, and in those moments, I get stuck. I get stuck behind how I feel, and I have a hard time moving toward what I want.”

“You lost me at life,” Jordan said, and I turned to him laughing.

“Life sucks sometimes.” I put my hands in the air, and Jordan cracked a smile nodding in agreement. “And when it does, it’s hard to do what we love, like paint.” I pointed at his cup.

“For real.” He kept nodding, so I kept talking.

“When I feel like that, I try to allow myself to put those emotions into my art. For some people, it’s not a choice. They naturally paint how they feel, but for others like me, we have to give ourselves permission to let it out.”

Jordan pulled the paintbrush from the cup again and watched the paint drip back into it before swiping the bristles against the rim.

“So you’re saying that I should paint
my brother just got arrested for selling dope
all over this thing?”
Whoa.

“
Not that exactly,” I said scrunching up my nose and twisting my lips. “I don’t think that’s what August had in mind, anyway.” Jordan let loose a single laugh. “I do think you should let go of some of the things your brother’s arrest makes you feel onto the mural, though. In color, shape, texture, whatever feels right.”

Jordan took a few careful steps to the wall. He looked up at the nearly finished surface and drew the brush from the cup once again. This time, he looked at the paint and watched it drip, but then slapped the brush against the wall. “Upset.”

He dipped the brush in again and pulled it right back out without a second glance, punching the wall with color. “Embarrassed,” he said a little louder, grabbing Ridge’s attention.

“Deserted.” Swipe.

“Angry.” Swipe.

“Sad.” Swipe.

“Damn, Ms. C,” Ridge whispered next to me.

“I know,” I said placing my hand over my heart.

Ridge and I watched Jordan as he let go on the mural, in a form of silent support. Watching him work through his hurt was both devastating and beautiful. I was so proud of him for allowing himself to feel, but at the same time, I was heartbroken that he had to experience such turmoil. Even still, I was thankful that I was there to help guide him through it.

“Can I come in?” I knocked on August’s office door before helping myself to the chair situated in front of his desk.