Xander’s hand gently cups my cheek, his thumb caressing my skin softly as he speaks, “I am sorry they made you skip work to be here, but I am glad you are.”
I can’t help but smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. “Oh, don’t worry. Sophia said she has everything under control, and when she comes back home, I can go to my bar shift in time. It’s no big deal.” I shrug, genuinely appreciating how this family works, watching out for each other. I adore them all for letting me be part of it.
Xander doesn’t seem entirely convinced, so I lean in once more to give him a sweet, brief kiss. “There is nowhere I would rather be right now,” I whisper, my voice filled with sincerity before leaning back. “And I brought my college stuff. I have atest tomorrow, so it will be the perfect opportunity to go over the material a bit when you nap later.”
“Oh, I am going to nap?” He smirks at me.
“Yep,” I reply nonchalantly, shrugging my shoulders.
He chuckles softly, his eyes filled with affection. “How come I got myself two overbearing hens?”
I grin and retort, “Because you have good taste.”
“Fair enough,” he concedes, his smirk turning into a fond smile. “But I need to work on some sketches first. I am going back to work tomorrow no matter what you guys say because the doctor said I could, and the sketch is nowhere near ready.”
“That should be fine,” I agree, leaning over to grab his sketchbook from the nightstand with a pencil and hand it to him.
“Did Josh talk to you? Could they find anything?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “They looked at the location on the street where we crashed, but there was nothing. And your truck has a big dent in it, but nothing is left from the other car. No paint, nothing. They are going over the security cameras in the area today. Maybe they’ll see something, but he is not optimistic since it was snowing heavily.”
“Okay, but you still think it was them?” he asks.
“Wouldn’t someone who rammed into another car stop and check if they hurt anyone? I don’t know. It’s just… it fits. My gut tells me it was them.” I shrug.
He nods, taking the sketchbook from me and opening it. He browses through it to get to the back, and I catch a glimpse of a drawing of my eyes, so I put a hand over the book to stop him.
“Can I see that one?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
He turns the book and holds it out for me, and I go back to the sketch, marveling at it. Again, it is so good and realistic. It’s mind-blowing. But somehow, he depicted a shadow and pain in my eyes that I thought only I saw when letting my mask fall and looking at myself in the mirror.
I look up at him, my nose scrunched, feeling unreasonably hurt.
Is this really how he sees me?
He lets his thumb glide over my nose in an attempt to smooth out my expression, a small grin on his face. “Stop scowling at me.”
“Why, though?” I ask, my voice tinged with hurt.
He lifts my chin with a finger, his gaze locked onto mine. “Why what, Carolina?”
I struggle to find the right words to express my feelings. “Why do you have to draw me so… so…” my voice trails off.
“Real?” he asks, his eyes fixed on me as I scowl even more, earning a chuckle from him. “Because I can see the real you. Does that scare you?”
“You think the real me is just that? A broken girl?” My hurt is palpable in my voice as I respond.
Xander gently takes the sketchbook from my hands and places it beside us, drawing me close to him, his gaze unwaveringly locked on mine. “I think the real you is the mirror to the real me. Two broken souls, survivors battling with the demons of their past, playing a dangerous game of love and hope.”
I can’t help but emit a dry laugh at his cryptic words.And here I thought Howie liked to talk in riddles.
“I don’t know if this is a good thing or not,” I admit, uncertainty lingering in my voice.
“It is… the wavelength you talked about. That’s it. That’s us,” he explains, a soft smile gracing his lips. “And not to mention, your face is just super pretty, and I like to draw it.” He playfully pinches my cheek.
“There are way prettier things that you could draw.” I roll my eyes.
“Art is not supposed to be just pretty. It is supposed to make you feel things. And you make me feel so many things that there aren’t enough colors in the world to capture them.”
