Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Wes will always aggravate me, yes.
But I feel closer to him than I ever have.
“Well, if anyone can get him into Crimson, it’s Wes,” Rayne says. “He’s friends with the college president, after all.”
“Friends is a strong term, but they do know me. And especially considering the circumstances of my father’s death… I’m pretty sure I’ll have the pull to get Niko in here. If he’s had a rebellious youth, or whatever, he deserves a chance.”
“You’re far too kind,” I tell him.
Wes shrugs. “If he’s our blood, I’m going to welcome him to Onyx, too. His choice whether or not to take it, I guess.”
Ollie comes into the room soon after, coming back from one of his classes.
“What’s up, guys?” Ollie asks.
“Oh, nothing,” I tell him. “We just found out we have a secret half-brother who’s your age. No big deal, right?”
Oliver looks at us like we’re insane.
He comes over and glances at the document, then his eyes widen when he sees the photo.
“Fuck,” Oliver says.
“Looks like us but with darker hair, doesn’t he?” Wes asks.
Ollie sets his jaw. “I know this guy.”
“No shot.”
“He was my rival in high school.”
Oliver’s cheeks go pink as he stares at the email.
I’m going to need to ask him for a whole lot more details about that later. Oliver is sweet, and I could never picture him having a rival.
I make a mental note to grill him on it tonight, but right now Wes is still in shock, even if he’s hiding it well.
Weston stands up, takes a deep breath, and gives Oliver a pat on the back. “Well, you’re going to have to get used to being around him. I’m getting him into Crimson as soon as I can.”
For a long, long time, when the world felt like too much, my first instinct was toward violence.
If there was no one who wanted to fight me, I’d make someone want it.
Provoke them.
Ruin somebody’s night, and make my own night.
But that afternoon, when everything starts to feel like it was going to swallow me whole, I find myself somewhere different.
Rayne’s at the gym with Weston, and it’s strange knowing that for the first time all semester, I know he will be safe.
First, I find myself in my car, driving aimlessly.
Then I end up at the small art supplies store in town.
I feel kind of like I’m floating as I stand in front of blank canvases and paint, looking at them like they’re something forbidden.
Something from my past.
But after all of the recent events in my life, I can’t exactly think straight, either. The only thing that makes sense to me, in my mind, is one thing.
I could paint something that Rayne would love.
I purchase six blank canvases, all of different sizes, and a set of dozens of oil paint tubes. I get all of the supplies and chemicals needed, things that I used to have in my room, back when I was younger.
When I arrive back at Onyx House, I set up in the sunroom in the back, leaning a canvas on a table against the tall windows.
And I start to paint.
At first it’s nothing. Just bold colors, anywhere my instinct tells me to go.
And some time not too much later, Rayne finds me, coming up behind me and putting his arms around my torso.
The moment he touches me it’s like I’m lurched back into my own body, into myself.
“Hi, love,” he says simply.
I turn in his arms and kiss his temple. His cheek. Then his lips.
“I’m so lucky,” I tell him as I pull away.
“I am. And it looks like you’re making something beautiful. Hunter, you’re painting again.”
I nod at him, and he smiles. That smile alone is a gift.
“First time I’ve wanted to since Lune died.”
“It’s already perfect. Can’t wait to see how it turns out, though,” Rayne says.
I breathe deep, nuzzling against his hair.
He smells like sunscreen, as usual. He smells like home, to me.
“You make me feel like I have a reason to make beautiful things again.”
“You’ve always had a reason,” he says. “I’m just glad I could help you remember that. Still want you to hurt me, though. In the good ways.”
I hum, running my palm up his shirt and gripping the fabric in my fist. “I will always hurt you in the ways you beg for, Rayne. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
“Want you to tie me up. Have your way with me. Threaten me with everything and watch how I respond to every threat.”
I bite his lower lip, giving it a little tug. “You love it.”
“And I always will,” he tells me, stroking his palm along my hair. “It feels so good to be yours.”
Epilogue
RAYNE, SIX MONTHS LATER
Hunter’s first gallery show is an explosion of color.
He’s not used to drawing attention to himself.
With anything other than violence, at least.
When I arrive at the show with Weston, Noah, Ollie, and Roman, I scan the room and spot Hunter at one end, leaning against the wall.