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“I put a lot of thought into something too,” I said. “I think we should try sleeping on the bus again. You’re right, it’s more practical. I’m just going to have to get used to—”

“I want you to go to Ely and stay a few months with my family.”

I bolted up straight. “What?!”

He sat up and put out a hand. “Hear me out, okay? It’s not as crazy as it sounds. I want you to do that commission,” he said. “And I think my parents’ house would be the perfect place to do it. You could paint by the bay window overlooking the lake. You could take Tucker with you and he’d have all that space to run after being cooped up with us for so many months. My mom’s freezer is full of wild game and you could cook and maybe start updating your blog again. Mom loves you and she wants to get to know you better. Minnesota is central, so no matter where I am in the US, you could fly out to see me and be there within three hours and the time differences won’t be that bad. And I called Kristen. Her and Oliver are going to come and stay with you there for two weeks.”

I blinked at him. “You…you called Kristen?”

His blue eyes held mine. “Yes, I did. You could go to California for Thanksgiving and see your parents. And if you leave now, you’ll be done with the painting in time to join me in Paris for Christmas. The timing is perfect.”

I was speechless.

“Jason, I don’t want to leave you…”

He shook his head. “Look, we have to figure out how to make this work for both of us. It’s not going to end anytime soon. You need to have something that’s for you.” He looked me in the eye. “I want you to go. I want you to do this.”

We stared at each other, my chest rising and falling a little too quickly and him looking levelly back at me. It was so thoughtful and sweet. Really, it was. But I couldn’t…could I?

After losing Brandon, I’d found joy in nothing. Everything stopped for me. My world was a bleeding watercolor in the rain. And now it was a stark white canvas, begging for me to paint on it—and my hands were tied behind my back.

I was in an in-between again. I’d set up a new shrine without even realizing I was doing it, only this one wasn’t for Brandon or Jason. It was for Jaxon.

I wanted to do that commission so badly it was a physical craving. I had to go somewhere else to paint it. That was the simple truth of it. There was no other choice.

And Jason was right. I needed a break.

If I went overseas like this, I was going to fall apart. I was physically exhausted, and the UK leg was even longer than this one and I’d be jet-lagged on top of it. If I was worn down now, how would I be then without a chance to recover first? I could come back, reset, and be ready to take all this on again, and we’d try the bus thing and maybe it would be a game changer.

And there was something else too.

If I said no, if I didn’t take him up on this offer, he’d feel worse than he already did. He needed this solution as much as I did so he wouldn’t feel helpless to make things better for me. I couldn’t let him carry that guilt.

I licked my lips. “When were you thinking I’d go?”

“Tonight.”

I blanched. “Tonight? As in a few hours?”

“If it’s too fast or you’re not up to it, you can stay here for a few days and rest. But there’s a flight to Duluth at seven thirty. And if you left today I could even go with you to the airport. I already talked to Dad about picking you up.”

I shook my head at him. “Why is every trip to your parents’ house pitched to me with less than twelve hours’ notice?”

He smiled gently at me and waited for my answer.

I held his eyes. God, but two whole weeks with Kristen and Oliver! And the luxury of unpacking, sleeping in the same bed until I was ready to wake up, no alarms going off or flights to catch. No more bus or endless Taco Bell. Painting.

“Say yes, Sloan.”

I let out a breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

I nodded.

He looked almost relieved. His face went soft and he ran a thumb along my cheek.

There was something so tender in the way he touched me it made me forget to breathe. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. I was sick and gross, but he didn’t care. I was everything to him and he made me know it, every single day.

And now he was going to be without me for weeks. Maybe even months. And he was doing it all for me. I was his sacrifice. Just like he was mine.

I pulled down his hand and looked at it, holding it between us, touching the calluses on his fingertips. “I love your hands.” His instrument. His talented, capable, loving hands.

“Have them. They’re yours,” he said.

I smiled. “You’re giving me your hands?”

“My hands, my voice. My back to do your heavy lifting, my arms to carry you to bed when you’ve had too much tequila. My money, my time, my heart. It’s all yours, Sloan.”

I could feel the love in his words. It was so earnest, it made my heart ache so much, tears pricked my eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sing love songs for a living.”

He shook his head. “It’s just how I feel. I’m yours. All of me. I think I always belonged to you. Even when you belonged to someone else.” His eyes moved back and forth between mine. “Tucker knew it. He took one look and he saw the other half of me inside of you and he brought you home.”

Two hours later we said goodbye at the airport. And I watched him pretend not to be sad.