Page 28 of Under Her Skin

Our instructor, Joy, looks around the room in a serious tone. “Now, everyone, if I ring the bell, you sip.” She giggles and says: “Well, we have all learned here. If you're tipsy, you won’t fret over the canvas sitting in front of you. Instead, you will have fun. Because that is what we are about … Having fun!” She rings the bell again. Her bubbly nature makes me giggle, and I am not the only one.

Wise words. If only we could all apply this to every aspect of our chaotic lives. Getting started with how to do the background, I take a deep breath. Relaxing. Joy rings her favorite bell, so I sip. Cal brought water for us and, honestly, I am so thankful. I don’t think I am ready to let my guard down and get drunk. I know I can trust Cal, but we aren’t home. I am not ready for that step in public.

As the class goes on, I get more and more into the painting. It's a simple scene of a highland cow with his tongue sticking out. It's sweet and gives me a delightful feeling. As the strokes take life on the canvas and the charming little cow’s eyes take shape, I see it. I see the balm soothing my soul, the healing that grows with every flick of the brush. With each new line, I get further and further into the zone. The outside world slowly seeps away. There is nothing but the canvas and me.

Time slips by, and I chance a quick glance around the studio, taking note of the happy faces, the laughter that bounces about the room freely, and the merriment that skips from one person to the next. A small smile sneaks on my face as I take it all in. Then I turn to take in Cal. His work is surprisingly good. He has so many hidden talents. But what grabs me is his body.

His shoulders aren’t tense. His arms are as carefree as the paint brush glides about the canvas. The crinkle of stress at the corner of his eyes is gone.

Painting was a therapy for me, a way to rid myself of the evil pent up inside from my past. I painted hate, sorrow, depression, and every other imaginable dark emotion. I was proud of what I could create, but here in this moment, I know why I needed this delightful little highlander cow and his too-cute-for-words tongue.

To heal. To relax. To be okay with being in the here and now. And it appears that Cal needed this just as much as me.

The session wrapped up with a dazzling addition of glitter speckled about the paint, adding the pizzazz that made me smile.

Climbing into the truck, I notice that Cal seems at odds with himself. I don’t know what to make of it. He was so relaxed in the paint shop. Maybe something has changed. “Cal, you okay? You seem tense?” He gives me the side eye. His hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“Ava, I need to tell you something.” His tone causes my stomach to roll and goosebumps to chase the shiver that overtakes my body. He’s already professed his love and devotion, so it can’t be that, right? So, what would cause his voice to make me feel the crypt keeper is waiting for us at home?

“I know that today was… It was everything we both needed. It was rejuvenating. I’m glad you were able to throw your fears to the wind. I love that you found a bit of yourself.” Huffing as the wheel creaks, his grip tightening to the point where my brows draw together in concern of the steering wheel collapsing under his strength.

“This morning. I got a text.” Reaching for my hand he laces our fingers, giving my hand a quick squeeze as though he is bracing me for the news. There’s another quick glance at my face. “Jax and Lucas, they haven’t been over to the house in sometime. You’ve been out of it, but they have been hunting.”

My face scrunches at this. “Cal, I know my brothers enjoy hunting sometimes. Why is this so discerning?” I watch as Cal’s face goes slack, and he bites his lip. He seems to be trying his hardest to stop a smile from blooming, faking a cough to cover his laugh. “Really, what the hell? Cal, it's not news. I don’t get why this is so funny. Though I’m thrilled your weird mood disappeared even for a moment.” I shrug.

The truck jerks to the side of the road as he slams on the brakes. Lurching to a hard stop, he turns to me, grabbing both hands with a firm hold as though he is afraid that I will pull away. Hell, maybe he is scared that I’ll jump from the truck and run. I don’t know why he did it, but the firm hold helps me feel grounded.

“I hate this, but I think you need this.” Shaking his head, he continues. “We need this.” He takes what looks like a fortifying breath. “They were not on that kind of hunt.” A small chuckle graces those last few words. Cal’s face returns to a pleading yet comforting look as he delivers the news. The message was simple: "We found him.” Cal is watching me closely, trying to decipher any small nuance.

I freeze.

The words send a thread of pure fear through me. Then the unexpected happens, my anger sparks to life and it feeds itself, becoming an inferno. I glare at Cal. “Well, where the fuck is he?”

A flicker of surprise speeds across his handsome features. “Honestly, leaving the house had two reasons.” He flicks a finger up. “You and I both needed to get out of the house, and you need to remember that painting brings you relief.” A second finger comes up. “Your brothers needed the time to restrain Kiel in the basement.”

I flinch in surprise. Kiel is in my place of safety, my nest of protection. Will I let him taint it? Or do I trust that Cal and my brothers know what they are doing? I steel myself, taking a much needed relaxing breath.

Cal sees my reaction. “Ava, don’t. You have come so far. He is chained and there are men on him. He has no reprieve. He does nothing alone. There are eyes on him the whole time he is under our roof. There is not a chance in hell he will leave my basement breathing.”

Those simple words refill me with relief. I never should have doubted Cal. With those words imparted, his hand stays laced with mine as he puts that truck in drive, and we make our way home. The ride is quiet, giving me time to prepare. Prepare myself for knowing that, even if I don’t see him, Kiel’s life is short lived. That is exactly what I want, even if he does smudge our air and house.

26

AVA

Days pass with a new routine of waking up together, going down and partaking in coffee and breakfast together. After slipping quietly from bed that first morning, I couldn’t bear to repeat it. I didn’t want him to experience that level of fear again. Not after all he has done for me. The mornings became our time. No work. No outside world. It's just Cal and me.

In that time, we begin to slowly reconnect. His patience with me is a salve to my fractured soul. He helps put the broken pieces of me back together. As each day passes, I slip into my studio more and more.

Painting is my outlet. It’s my therapy. And I truly need it. Standing before a blank canvas, gnawing on the end of the paint brush, it hits me that I’m missing something.

Then it hits what I am missing. My recovery has been rough, and it's long from over, but I still need them. I miss them. It's been too long since I have been around my brothers. Now that their “hunt” is over, maybe we can have them over.

Closing my eyes, I realize that the hunt is not the only reason for us not seeing each other. My state of mind was the true culprit. Guilt weaves its way through me. My depressive state was the root of the issue, and possibly it was the reason the “hunt”—as I have dubbed it—took place.

Making plans is a must. I need them here. I need them to see that I am on the mend. With those happier thoughts in my mind, I set up the paint palette, dipping my brush into the crimson and begin to lose myself to the process.

Mind blank. I let it flow through me. No direction, no purpose to what this blank canvas will be. Just dip and swipe. Dip and flick.

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