Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2) (30 page)

I erased the smile of the mermaid, pissed that I couldn’t get the brave innocence just right. Ignoring the jingle of the front door bells, I opened the bottom drawer of my toolbox and dumped the book and pencil in.

“Can we help you?” Trace called to the customer past me without looking up. I kicked the drawer closed and rolled around in my chair toward the front.

“Dude!” I shouted and stood up from my chair to greet Eli. “Lookin’ fresh, homie. Skinny tie? Ladies dig it?” He was always lookin’ tight in a suit and tie, but he had a badass bald head, and when he rolled up his shirt sleeves, he sported some of my best work on both arms.

“Ladies dig what I can do with it,” he said shaking my hand. Eli lived in my last neighborhood with Blue and me. He graduated a year before me and went off to get his real estate license. When it was time for me to start making my dreams into reality and look for a shop, he was the only guy I called.

“Is it already time for some new ink?” I asked waving him back. He came through the saloon door and followed me to my station, but not before swiping Trace’s chair from him. Trace cursed over his shoulder where he stood fiddling in his toolbox.

“Not yet, brother. Came by to see you about the shop.” He sat back in the chair and spread his legs out, knocking over my trashcan.

“Pick that shit up.” I pointed to the mess on the floor. “And I already told you. It’s done. Money’s gone.” When I’d gone to Eli about retracting my offer on the property, he tried like hell to change my mind. He fiddled with his computer, typing in numbers, trying to figure out how I could help Blue and keep the shop, but when it came down to it, I just couldn’t do both.

“Not why I’m here. Here because shop’s all yours. You just need to come by the office and sign papers.” He tossed a folder at me.

“The fuck?” I asked and flipped it open. I went through paper upon paper trying to make sense of it all, hell, trying to read at all. I could barely read a Dr. Seuss book. This mess looked like jibberish to me. Just before I closed the folder, something I could most definitely read jumped out at me. A name. Capri Hunter. I flipped through the papers again more quickly this time and saw her name scribbled on nearly every one. Then I closed the folder and tossed it back to Eli. “What the hell is this?” I asked him.

“She paid off the property and wants it your name.” He slipped the folder back in his man purse. “Seems like you’ve caught one who cares more about you than she does herself.” A hint of a smile hit his pretty face.

“No,” I whispered and felt my head fall. I put my hands up just in time to catch it. My whole body heated in something like anger but not. This was something different. It clawed at my pride and twisted my gut.

I reached into the stupid man purse and pulled the file back out. “I need this,” I said standing quickly and heading for the door.

“Wes, calm down brother,” Eli yelled out behind me.

“I’ll take care of it.” I pushed through the saloon doors.

“Dude, just be thankful, she really seems to—” His voice disappeared behind the jingle of the bells, and I was out.

I
knew he would come, and I knew he would be mad. I’d hoped that once I saw him and explained how trivial the money was compared to the sheer force of his significance in my life, he would understand. I knew he’d do the same for me, and with that alone, I hoped it was enough to squelch his anger.

I second-guessed my hope when I saw the headlights of his car streak wildly across my room and the sound of his hand battering at my front door. I could feel his irritation heaving through the walls.

I opened the door tentatively at first, and then swung it wide open. He stood firm with his hand in the air clutching a manila folder. His pupils pulsed, but not with anger as I’d expected. There was something else there.

“What did you do?” he croaked out like he hadn’t had a drink in days.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said taking a step back at my own lie. It was a big deal, huge. I’d never do that for any other guy I’d been with. That was where the truth came in. Wes wasn’t any other guy. He was the guy I was in love with.

“Not a big deal?” he asked barging past me into the house. Thank God, Mom and Dad were down at the orphanage in Mexico again. I’d hate to have them see this.

“Capri, where did you get the money to pay off the shop?” he asked lowering his tone.

“It was my inheritance,” I said almost sheepishly, which was ridiculous. This was my money, and I used it how I wanted. I stood up straighter and shut the door.

“What?” He stared at me. Hard. It made me incredibly nervous, so I spoke up to defend myself for some reason.

“Wes, I was using it for school, and I dropped out. I wanted to use it for something important to me, and
you’re
important to me.” I waved my hands at him and took a step closer. He took a step back dropping his chin to his chest and holding his hand up to stop my approach.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said in such a low whisper it resembled a growl.

“Well, I did, and I would do it again,” I said standing firm. He looked up at me from under his eyes, and my knees wobbled. His stare was fractured, cracked, broken. This was about so much more than money.

“What is it, Wes?” I whispered taking another step toward him.

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me,” he said and his shoulders fell. I took another step, but his hand darted up to stop me again. I didn’t listen and took a few more steps until I was standing directly in front of him. “I want to take care of
you
,” he said bringing his head up to meet my eyes.

“You do, Wes. Every day.” I lifted my hand to touch his elbow, but he moved his arm away.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” He turned around and stalked away from me. “You’ve proven me right.” His voice had gained its original intensity as he turned back to face me. “I’ll never a good enough man for you.”

“Wes—” I threw my hands up, but he cut me off.

“That shop was my worth. That was how I was going to show you that I was responsible, that I was mature, that I could take care of you not just now, but forever. For-fucking-ever, Capri. I couldn’t do it, though. I couldn’t be the guy you should be with. Then you go and buy the shop for me. Buy it for me?” His shouts pushed me back to my original spot by the door. “My girl, who I should be able to take on the world for, has to do it for me.”

He ran his hands roughly through his hair staring up at the ceiling. From this angle, where I could see under his eyes instead of through, I suddenly recognized the look in his eyes. He was ashamed. I never thought that my actions would bring that on. The anger—I was prepared for—but humiliation, shame? I hadn’t been ready for that.

“That was your money, Capri. You could have put that money into making your dreams of a life in art a reality. It feels like you sold a piece of yourself for me, and I don’t like it. I don’t like that you did it, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

“How does it make you feel, Wes?” I asked hoping he’d admit it. I needed his honesty right now more than anything, and he needed his honesty.

“Like you’re sacrificing yourself to take care of me.” There it was.

“Why is that so wrong? Why is it so awful that I care about you so much, Wes, because I think it’s pretty amazing. I think it’s pretty freaking amazing that I feel so much more for you than my art. Those images I create, they’ve got nothing on what you’ve composed in my heart.”

“You shouldn’t have.” His voice began to fall.

“No Wes, you
think
I shouldn’t have because you’ve never let anyone close enough to make those sacrifices for you. It’s not a matter of what I should or should not have done. It’s what I wanted to do. I’m not like other the girls, Wes. You let me in.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he whispered.

“What?” I whispered back, but Wes didn’t say anything. “Tell me, Wes,” I said firmly but still could only force out a whisper. He said nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“Tell me I should have been just another girl to you.” Nothing. This couldn’t be happening. The pounding of my heart raced through my veins.

“Tell me you regret us.” He looked down into my eyes. Nothing. His silence spoke a million heartbreaking words.

I bit my lip to hold it all in then reached over and gripped the doorknob. I looked one last time at Wes, giving him one last chance to say something anything. Somehow, the silence was so much more painful than any words he could have spoken. He didn’t speak, though. When I nodded my head in surrender, I swore I saw him wince, and I swung the door open. He stalked past me quickly sending a rush of his air to grate against my bare skin.

With the clicking of my door, the hold my teeth had on my lip slipped, releasing it all. The hurt, the disbelief, the actual shattering of my gray heart piece by piece, it all fell from my eyes leaving salty pools on my lips. The sting of the fresh wounds from my teeth would never be enough.

E
very day since that night has been Groundhog day. I woke up, I painted, I forced myself to eat, I painted, I avoided everyone, and I painted. As much as I felt the urge to paint him, I didn’t. I was too hurt to give him that part of myself anymore. Instead, I focused on more paintings for the possible hotel deal Bia told me about. She got in touch with me earlier this week and said the owner of The Bay hotel, one of the classiest in downtown San Diego, wanted to see a few more of my paintings focusing on the area before making a decision.

Each one that I had completed was a welcome distraction from Wes. The Spanish tile from Old Town kept me from checking my phone. A flame from a gas lamp reminded me how much his words burned, and the light from Cabrillo Monument filled my head with his voice telling me that I would find my way.

Okay, distraction wasn’t working in my favor, which was probably why I had my room covered in every single item of clothing I owned. Nothing felt right. I couldn’t find the right outfit to say ‘
Hey, you may have stomped all over my heart, but I’m better than ever.’
It was a lie. He stomped my heart and crumbled my soul along with it.

I settled on a pair of black lacy shorty shorts and a white button up tailored boyfriend shirt with the top three buttons undone. I fluffed my hair in the mirror and puckered my lips with the latest swipe of lip-gloss. There I was, done up to blend in. I thought to quickly tie my hair into a loose bun and wipe off the gloss but forced my feet to vacate my bedroom. I had a bachelorette party to get to, and dammit, I was going to have fun.