Thankfully, that’s when Axel reappears.
“Aww, are we having abonding moment?” he teases in a sing-songy voice.
“Shut up,” I mumble, embarrassed.
Maryanne raises an amused brow. “At leastsomeonewants to spend time with me.”
“I know for a fact Johnny does,” Axel says, deadpan. “He told me this morning. Said he misses his mommy and needs some emotional support.”
Maryanne barks out a laugh. “I’ll be sure to let him know you volunteered him.”
She stands, brushing invisible crumbs off her dress. “Alright, you two ready? Lina wants to stop at the hobby store on the way home.”
Axel raises an eyebrow. “What for?”
“You’ll see…” I say with a sly smile, grabbing my bags.
Chapter 17
The next day, Axel and I are sprawled across my bedroom floor, surrounded by open paint tubes, brushes, and blank canvases I picked up from the hobby store. Mine is an explosion of color. Wild floral blooms in every shade I could blend. Axel’s, true to what I’ve learned to be his typical style, is a stark black-and-white cityscape, moody and exact.
He leans back, studying his piece with a frown. “Something’s not quite right.”
I look over from my painting and tilt my head. His shading and detailing are insane, especially considering we’re using cheap supplies, but it feels more likehispiece thanours. And this art is meant formyroom.
“I think I know what’s missing. Can I…?” I gesture toward his canvas.
“Go ahead. It’s all yours.” He hands it over, trusting.
He watches as I hunch over the painting, adding dashes of green, yellow, purple, and red. Ivy begins to crawl up the sides of the buildings. Bright blooms pop from cracked sidewalks and spill from makeshift window boxes. Color seeps into the monochrome world like a secret finally being let in.
“There,” I say, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. “Now, it’s perfect.”
“Perfectly you,” Axel says, his voice tender.
“Perfectlyus,” I correct, setting it carefully on my dresser to dry. “I’ll cherish it forever.”
“You better. Don’t say I never gave you anything,” heteases.
I roll my eyes. “So generous.”
He stretches out beside me, then props himself on one elbow. “So... how are you settling in?”
It’s only been weeks since I got to Tennessee, but it feels like months. So much has happened—hard things, good things,healingthings. I think about the shifts: I’m adjusting to school, I’m still on track to graduate early, I’ve made new friends. And Axel, Nik, and Johnny… God,thoserelationships have changed everything. I never thought I’d be able to trust in men again, but they give me the space and confidence to be myself. My true self.
“It’s been good,” I say honestly. “Is it weird that I feel like I fit in better here than I ever did back home?”
There’s a flicker of guilt as I say it. I think of my mom and how distant we were. She never really asked about school or my friends. As long as my grades were fine and I stayed out of trouble, she didn’t seem to care. And I stopped trying long before I should’ve. After she didn’t believe me about Joe, it was like something in me just shut down. Maybe it did in her, too.
Axel nods, like he understands more than I’m saying. “Not weird at all. Youknowwhen something fits. Arizona doesn’t sound like it was good for you.”
It’s not just Arizona. It’s what happened there. Who I was there. Who I had tobecometo survive it.
“It wasn’t,” I admit. “But here... I don’t know. I’m happy.”
His voice is quiet, but certain. “I’m happy you’re here.”
We sit in the soft silence that follows, surrounded by paint and brushes and the mingled pieces of ourselves on canvas.
