“Okay.” His eyes didn’t stray from me as he said it. “Lockswell, really? Out of all the places…”
“There’s a lot to find out,” Evander said. “And I don’t want anyone to find outanythingyet. Not until we can process some information. I don’t want anyone knowing.”
“Mom knows.”
“Mom knows nothing. I just have a very pretty blue-eyed boy in my care that may or may not be a ghost from the past.”
I ducked my head as heat filled my cheeks. Rowan laughed, a lighthearted type of sound as he pushed himself up to his feet. “Sweet little thing you got, Van. Just…be careful. I worry about you. We all do.”
Chapter 38
Kasey
After a few peaceful days, days when Evander went to work for a couple of hours and I tried to find some kind of footing in his house, in his life, I started to settle. Not fully. But enough.
When he was home, he worked in his office editing photos, the door open so I could hear the soft clicks of his keyboard. Sometimes, I drifted towards him without meaning to, settling into the chair by the window with the new sketchbook and pencil set he’d left out for me. My hand moved on its own, lines turning into shapes, shapes turning into something almost beautiful.
It wasn’t much. But it was mine. And I liked it.
Today felt different, though. I felt different.
Like the sun was brighter. Like the air was tighter. Like something in the world shifted overnight.
For ten years, I dreaded this day more than any other day. Birthdays meant evaluations. Tests. Corrections. Standing straighter. Moving faster. Being perfect or being punished for not being perfect enough.
But today, none of that applied.
Today, I got to be me. I got to be Kasey.
The day unfolded like any other with Evander. The kind of day that didn’t demand anything from me. The kind I didn’t know how to want until now.
He didn’t let me help with the morning dishes, brushing off my attempts with a soft, “I’ve got it.” Later, he decided to grill outside for a late lunch, letting me sleep through a nap I hadn’t meant to take.
Now I sat on the deck ignoring the chairs that had appeared sometime in the last few days. The wooden boardsbeneath me were warm from the sun. My sketchbook rested on my knees, pencil in hand, and lines forming without much thought.
“Now what are you drawing over there?” Evander called from the grill, his voice easy like this was the most normal thing in the world.
And maybe…. Maybe it could be.
I hesitated, pencil still hovering over the page. The lines weren’t perfect. They weren’t even good. The proportions were wrong, the jaw too sharp, the hair was too messy. But I knew who it was supposed to be.
I swallowed. “Um…you.”
Evander paused mid-flip of whatever he had on the grill. “Me?”
Heat crawled up my neck. I kept my eyes on the paper, not on him. “I’m…trying too anyways. I’m not very good at people.”
The admission felt too big, too vulnerable, like I’d handed him something fragile he could easily break without meaning to.
I turned the sketchbook slightly, just enough that he could see the rough outline.
“It doesn’t really look like you,” I added quickly. “Not really. I’m still figuring out how to draw faces.”
Evander didn’t say anything at first. The grill hissed softly behind him, the scent of smoke drifting in the warm air. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before.
“Honeybee…it looks good.”
“It’s messy.”
