His face betraying nothing, Ash kissed me and then went back to his work. Red and white were next, apparently, regardless of my predictable non-response.
“Come here,” he said when I didn’t move. “You have the besthands.”
“Bestforwhat?”
“Comehere.”
I went to him, obviously. However dark the world had gotten, the invisible cord between us was as strong as it ever had been. He dipped my hands in white paint and nudged me towards the top of the bench. “Put some lightintoit.”
“What?”
“Justdoit.”
So I did it. Ash showed me how to use my fingers to add light and texture to the mass of green and brown while he added slashes of deep red that were a little too angry for myliking.
“Trust me,” he said when he saw me looking. “Balance,remember?”
It was a phrase I’d chucked at him for years when shit had gotten real for him. Now that it was me fucking things up, it was hard to see what I’d ever meant by that particular pearl ofwisdom.
Ash stepped back from the bench. “I thinkwe’redone.”
“If yousayso.”
“I do. Come over here and takealook.”
“I can see itfromhere.”
“Stop beingadick.”
I found a grin from somewhere and joined Ash by the workshop’s door—the farthest point from the bench. He gripped my shoulders and spun me around, and then he pulled me against him, my back against hischest.
“Look,” he said before I could truly comprehend the position he’d placed us in. “Look whatyoumade.”
“Whatyoumade.”
“Wemade.”
I took the compromise and stared at the bench. And stared some more.Wow.I was used to Ash creating mind-blowing art overnight, but I’d never been this close to the process, and I was stunned. “It’s a tree… Ithink?”
“Youthink?”
I looked again and chuckled at my own stupidity. Of course it was a tree—the browns we’d smeared at one end of the bench were clearly the trunk, and greens, red, and white made up an explosion of leaves. The greens were the textures of the forests we’d passed to get here, and red and white gave it enough light and shade to bring it to life. The fact that it was on its side didn’t seem to matter as Ash had somehow directed me to curve the trunk as we’d worked without mynoticing.
It was incredible as it stood, but there was more. With Ash, there always was. “What am Imissing?”
“You’re not missinganything.”
“I don’t believe you. I think I get what the tree represents, but it’s notfinished.”
Ash hummed and tapped his fingers on my shoulders. “You’re right. It’s the roots,isn’tit?”
“What’s wrong with theroots?”
“I don’t mean literally… or maybe I do.” Ash slipped out from behind me and moved to the foot of the bench. He traced the very darkest parts of the painted roots with his fingers, like he was searching for something beneath it. “Ah, hereitis.”
Curiosity got the better of me. I drifted after him and peered over his shoulder. “Whatisit?”
“Max’s initials. He carves them into everything, which obviously isn’t unusual, but he hides Jed’s on his work too. I don’t think Jedknows.”
