The kiss lingered between them long after it ended, leaving something unsteady, almost dreamlike in its wake.
Randi drew in a quiet breath, her gaze dropping for a moment as if she needed something solid to hold onto again.
“That …” she began, touching her lips, then stopped, with a faint, almost disbelieving smile.
Brew watched her carefully, something lighter in his expression now too.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Like the song says.”
The air adjusted, softer now, but no less charged as his attentionbecame more drawn and his gaze lingered past her shoulder toward the canvas behind her she was working on.
She noticed the intent of his gaze.
“What are you working on?”
Randi turned instinctively, stepping just enough to block his view.
“It’s not finished.”
“That’s never stopped me before,” he said, a s he took a step forward, a hint of amusement threading through his tone.
“May I see?”
She shook her head, a touch more serious now and placed her palms against his chest to stop him from taking another step forward.
“No. This one… isn’t ready for anyone but me.”
Something in the way she said it made him pause.
Respect it.
“Fair enough,” he said, lifting his hands slightly in surrender.
“I’ll wait.”
Her shoulders eased just a fraction.
Because this wasn’t just another painting.
It was something she hadn’t even allowed herself to fully understand yet.
“You’re painting again,” he said after a moment, his tone sifting.
It wasn’t a question.
It was something closer to wonderment.
Randi glanced down at her hand, then back at him.
“I’m trying patiently.”
“You’re doing more than that,” he replied. “You’re reclaiming it.”
The words settled deeper than she expected.
She looked away briefly, absorbing them, before returning her attention to him.
“I missed it. I was letting my fear of pain hold me back. Visiting with the children at the hospital kind of created a barrier in my mind, and I stopped thinking about how moving hurt and allowed the joy to kind of, I don’t know, deplete the pain, if that makes sense. “
