Page 97 of Abyss

I clasp my lip in between my teeth, tracing my eyes down to the other part of his painting where the orange seems to be taking over—his heart. “Are you looking for a life raft?”

Hudson shakes his head. “Not even a little.”

He assesses the paper in front of me, his brows furrowing at the light purple and dark green paint covering most of the area inside my outline before it connects with orange on the hands and feet. There’s a large red circle over the chest. “I get the orange, but what is the purple and green?”

I lift my brow. “The question is who represents the lavender and pine?”

A small smile tips up his lips, and I know he doesn’t need me to answer. He looks at my painting. “And the red?”

“My family and friends.”

His brows knot when he sees the red vine crawling up my picture’s arm. “What’s this?”

My smile withers following his gaze. “My best friend.”

Hudson reaches for my forearm, his eyes soft as he puts pieces together in his head. He brushes my scar with his thumb. “Will you ever tell me what happened?”

I’m just about to answer when conversation from the class distracts me, and I walk away to assess each of their paintings, speaking to the volunteers that want to share what they’ve painted.

Twenty minutes later, with Hudson and the kids helping to clean up the room and put away the supplies, I walk to the back with Jojo, her dad, and her stepmom. Both Jojo and I bring along her artwork from today.

“Jojo, do you want to talk about your painting?” I inquire gently, watching Jojo’s gaze shift from her dad to her stepmom shyly.

She begins to explain the various colors on her sheet, revealing fragments of her inner world. She points to the red inside her chest that represents her dad, before explaining a few other colors—her mom, her grandparents, and the dog they lost years ago.

When she gets to the gray colored cloud she’s painted in her head, representing Max, Jackie and her father, Alan, exchange similar frowns.

Jackie tenderly clasps Jojo’s hands in hers. “I’m so sorry that Max has been so terrible to you, sweetheart. It’s no excuse, but she’s going through her own adjustments with our new family dynamic. But I promise you that I will do everything possible to protect and support you.” She takes abreath. “Your feelings are valid, and I’m here for you, too, okay?”

Jojo nods, glancing at me for guidance.

“I think it’s really important for you all to seek family counseling.” I offer Jojo an encouraging smile. “I will continue to keep in touch with Jojo, but it’s essential that you heal as a family, too. Involve Max. Have her talk out what’s bothering her and hopefully, over some time, you all can move forward with mutual respect for one another.”

I turn to Alan, reiterating the importance of Jojo’s emotional recovery. The defeated way she looked sitting inside that dark shed all alone still haunts me. “Your daughter has felt bullied and threatened. She was brave enough to share her experience with all of us, but it’s important that she heals from this. It’s important she finds her confidence and inner-strength again.”

Alan nods somberly, his lips trembling as he pulls Jojo into a hug. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you sooner.”

Giving the three of them time to embrace, I take out a list I’d prepared, outlining some family bonding activities and hand it to Alan, along with referrals to family counselors in the area.

Before they leave, I pull Jojo into a hug, reminding her that she can always call me, day or night.

I’m looking out of the passenger window in Hudson’s car twenty minutes later, when he reaches over to intertwine our fingers. He brings my hand to his lips, like he’s done before, sending a warm current through my body.

I take a breath, my eyes coasting along the oranges and yellows in the sky. “I love the colors of sunsets, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Hudson squeezes my hand. “But now all I see is orange.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

KAVI

The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor has me glancing over my shoulder at the bare-chested man behind me, clad in dark gray sweatpants. His disheveled hair does nothing to make him look any less sexy. And as usual, his overt display of tattoos, bulging biceps, and stacked abs makes my brain malfunction, and I almost burn my wrist pulling out the tray of peppermint snacks from the oven.

I swear, he does it on purpose—parading around half-naked just to turn me into a fumbling idiot.

I spy the way his lips tip up arrogantly as I place the tray on the counter and close the oven. The bastard knows he looks good enough to cause a highway pileup. He shuffles over, pressing his chest to my back as he lifts his arm to get cups from the cupboard above my head.

Dipping his mouth to the shell of my ear, his salacious whisper sends goosebumps soaring over my skin. “Excuse me.”

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