It’s killing me, Greene.
As soon as I send it, I set my phone down and close my eyes again. I know she won’t text back—she needs time. I’ve got to respect that. But I physically couldn’t make it through another day of her addressing me asMr. Alcott.She knowsexactlywhat she’s doing by calling me that incessantly. I begin to drift off when my phone vibrates.
Iris
I’ll consider it.
My heart skips a beat.
Hell, when did I become the guy whose heart stops upon receiving a text? I bite back an embarrassingly big grin. This message isn’t much, but it’ssomething. I will take anything she gives me. Anything.
Thirty-Eight
Iris
While strolling down the cobblestone road bordering the Cove's town square, I refrain from texting Jasper more than I’d like to confess. When he texted me casually on Thursday evening, my stupid butterflies returned with a vengeance. It felt wrong to ignore him blatantly, so I responded with a short, bland text. Working through my emotions over the past seven days has been challenging, to say the least. Not only am I working through this situation with Jasper and Kai, but I’ve thought a lot about my mom, too. For the first time, I feel somewhat valued by her. I can only hope it lasts. The more I’ve thought about my mom, the more I’ve realized she has a difficulttime showcasing her vulnerable side with me. Being married to someone as absent as my dad can't be easy… I know this doesn’t excuse her actions toward me, but itdoesshed light on why she is the way she is.
Shamefully, as I walk down the street, I poke my head around each corner, hoping Kai will manifest himself to me. I’m still holding on to the possibility that I may be able to see him if I squint hard enough. Part of me wants to stumble just to see if he’ll catch me.Maybe this is why it’s better for people not to know they have a guardian angel.Entering Little Falls for the first time this week, Davis’s eyes widen upon seeing me. “Where have you been, missy?”
“I’ve been slammed with work lately.” I grin. Technically, it’s not a lie, but I suppose it isn’t the truth in its entirety, either. If I were being honest with him, I’d admit that I haven’t left my apartment for non-work related reasons in days. Every day, I’ve woke up, walked straight to work, and then straight home at the conclusion of the day. “I’ll get the usual.”
“Coming right up—it’s on the house today, you look like you need it.” He winks, rolling up his flannel's sleeves. I don’t know if Davis realizes that isn’t the most flattering sentiment, but knowing him, he meant no harm. I suppose he isn’t wrong. I trudge over to a table meant for two and sink into the plush chair. I reflect on the first time Jasper and I ever met—he offered to give me a ride because of the rain. Little did I know, my brother was probably right there with us the entire time. Part of me can’t help but wonder if the only reason Jasper accepted Soi’s fundraiser opportunity was because of Kai, too. I rub my temples and lean my head back, releasing a frustrated sigh. How will I ever move past this?
“Iris,” Davis shouts. I grab my order and thank him, then slip back outside, tightening my coat. As I take a sip of my latte, I peer up at the gray sky. The sun is nowhere in sight today.Typical. I continue down the winding road, focusing on the pitter-patter of my treading feet. After walking uphill for several minutes, the high school’s peak comes into my line of sight. I wouldn’t miss Callie’s art exhibit for anything.
Upon walking in, I’m greeted with atmospheric indie folk music, setting the mood. I follow printed signs leading me to the school’s quaint gallery. The gallery itself is smaller than an average classroom, but glass windows make up the entire front wall of the exhibit. A large tan, backless teakwood bench sits in the center of the room. Before Callie joined the staff, the gallery didn’t have any seating, so she made it her personal mission to track down a high-quality bench for the gallery. I remember Kai telling me about it from his perspective—he was quite impressed she got the Principal to approve a $600 bench forart students. I chuckle to myself, remembering how much of a debacle this entire situation was at the time.
I arrive early to explore the exhibit, intending to leave before all the students and their families arrive. While walking to Callie’s classroom, I hear laughter—it appears some of her friends arrived early, too. As I walk into her classroom, I see him currently occupying her attention, keeping his back turned to me. I’d recognize those dark waves anywhere.
“Iris! You’re early!” Callie, fashioned in a highly colorful sweater dress, breaks away from her conversation, rushing to my side and bringing me in for a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here! The students blew me away this year, I can’t wait for you to see all their pieces.”
As we’re hugging, he turns around, piercing me with his eyes causing the room's energy to shift. Adorned in a black crewneck with dark jeans, he saunters over to us as Callie and I pull apart. Instantly, the homely scent of pine and sandalwood reaches my nose. I inhale, breathing in for what feels like the first time in days.
“Hi, Greene.”
“Hi,” I whisper, unable to avoid glimpsing at his lips. I can’t believe I forgot Callie invited him to this back at the bar weeks ago.
“Well, I am going to let you two catch up.” Callie scrunches her nose, grasping my shoulder before frolicking away. I grimace, not knowing what to say first. “Feel free to walk through the gallery now before it gets crowded! It’s open.”
“Shall we?” He reaches out his arm for me to wrap my arm in his. Linking arms is innocent—hardly intimate—so I cave. As I wrap my arm around his toned bicep, chills spread across my skin.I’ve missed his touch.
We walk inside the exhibit together, and I gaze at all the expressive colors surrounding us, instantly feeling as though we've been transported to a new place. The walls are entirely covered in canvases, both big and small, displaying styles of every variation imaginable. Underneath each piece lies a title alongside a student’s name and age. After admiring several creative pieces, an oil painting in the corner beckons me.
Composed of intricate gray swirls, the sky complements a landscape of a meadow overtaken by wildflowers, primarily in pink, red, orange, and yellow hues. In the meadow of colors, a hydrangea sits at its center. Instead of illuminating a bright, warm color like the others, it blooms in a cool tone ofblue. However, it remains as striking as all the other flowers in the grove alongside it. It’s simply different. My gaze drifts down to the title.
The Masked Flower
My eyes begin to water for reasons my mind can’t fully comprehend. I never would’ve guessed I’d resonate deeply with an art piece created by a seventeen-year-old, but here we are.
“Reminds me of you,” Jasper’s gravelly voice reaches my ear.
I glance up at him in awe. Once again, we seem to be on the same wavelength. “I do feel drawn to it.”
“Is this an auction? Can we bid on it, or…?” He looks around, then bites his lip. It takes effort to stifle my grin.Damnit, why does he have to be so hard to be angry at?
“It’s a high school art show, Jasper. We can’t buy the art.” I shake my head and continue walking, gazing at other colorful pieces.
“One point for Jasper, zero for Greene,” he taunts in a sing-song manner.
