Willow takes notice too, because she pauses, dropping her brush and glancing at me, brows knit as if she’s surprised, before an awed smile spreads over her cheeks. “Thank you.”
I nod, smiling back. “So, is this your therapy, then? The painting?”
She chuckles. “I don’t know, honestly. It feels different when you know the intricacies of the way it affects the brain. It’s comforting. I love it and it makes me happy, but I’m not sure it’s therapeutic for me.”
Somehow, watching her paint feels therapeutic to me. I could study her all day. The way she scrunches her nose in concentration, or when she wipes hair from her forehead when she’s thinking through a specific stroke. How she regards the sky, the water, the sand, before mixing colors to match the environment around her. Listening to her soft sighs of contentment, her mewls of frustration, or the hum of focus when she’s zoned in is like listening to rain sounds. I could fucking meditate to the noise.
“So what do you do?” I ask. “For therapy? For release?”
She pins her eyes on me, raising a brow.
“Oh, no,” I backtrack, shaking my head rapidly. “I didn’t mean...”
Knots form in my stomach, only loosening at the sound of her laughter. “Well, I don’t dothat.”
I wonder whatthatmust be like. Whatthatmust mean. Especially with her.
The curiosity, the thought, thevisionfloats across my mind, and I could almost choke on it. The roof of my mouth goes dry, and my skin feels tight. Like I need to shed it, cover myself with hers instead. I’ve never experienced a sensation like that before. A raw, consumingneed.
It makes me afraid to look at Willow, fearful she’ll see all my thoughts written on my face.
“And that’s probably why I need a therapist.” She laughs, and I want so badly to ask her what she means by it. “I’ll gain the courage at some point, but in the meantime, I just...” Shesettles, and when I hear the shuffle of her brushes, I finally glance at her again, finding her eyes fixed on her canvas. “I try to laugh every day,” she continues. “Sometimes, on really bad ones, I even count my laughter. It helps me feel like the day wasn’t wasted when I go to bed at night. Sometimes I run. I like to swim. I really enjoy paddleboarding, either out on the cove”—she nods toward the rock face to the south—“or at the harbor on the other side of town. It’s peaceful there.”
“I like that. The counting laughter. Maybe I should pick up that habit,” I muse.
She nods without looking at me. “You should.”
“I’ve never been to the harbor.”
“Really?” She pauses her brushstrokes. “Well, you have to. You need to paddle down there. The water is like glass early in the morning. It’s a great core workout, and it’ll help your balance too.”
“My balance has gotten better.” I roll my eyes, huffing a laugh. “But yeah, that sounds fun. I’ll have to go out sometime.”
“What about Friday? You don’t train on Friday mornings until nine, right?”
“Oh. Well... yeah.”But your dad told me not to be alone with you, a rule I’m actively breaking right now.
“What, Wes?” she asks, pursing her lips in a pout. “You don’t want to go with me?”
Her tone is playful, but sincerity brews behind her blue eyes when she turns toward me. She’s anticipating the rejection on the tip of my tongue, and though she doesn’t understand the reason for it, I know it’d sting her all the same.
When her gaze bores through mine, pillowy lips pouted, sun-kissed cheeks flushed pink, I realize that I don’t think there is a damn thing on this planet Willow Graham couldn’t make me do if she asked.
“Nothing, Wills. Let’s do it. That sounds fun.”
When she grins, warmth floods my entire body.
I am so fucked.
CHAPTER 16
WILLOW
Idon’t know why Weston is so hellbent on the idea that his balance isn’t utter shit when he tumbles off his board and into the water for thethirdtime this morning.
“Goddammit,” he mutters when his head pops above the surface a moment later, shaking the water out of his hair.
Even through his wetsuit, his muscles bulge as he tosses his paddle onto the board and braces his arms on the center, hoisting himself up. He sits on his knees, wobbling as he slowly rises into a standing position.
