Page 49 of Vintage

I had so much to express to her, and while it seems effortless in films to tear away the IVs and rush to your beloved, I knew better. I could easily envision my skin being ripped apart, which wouldn’t bother me, but it’s the last thing I’d want my wife to see after everything she’s endured. Still, I could barely feel my limbs; months of substance abuse had taken their toll on my body.

“Hey, baby. Can you at least look at me?” My voice was heavy, teetering on the edge of breaking under the weight of emotions I had bottled up, especially as I watched her tremble.

She glanced back at me, then turned away, kicking the door. Clearly, she was trying to suppress her feelings, and I was the source of her confusion.

“Mrs. Rowan, please don’t hate me. I swear, what you saw wasn’t my intention. If it weren’t for the drugs, none of that would have happened. In my mind, I was with you that night, and every night—”

“Shut up.” Her icy tone silenced me instantly.

She turned back, tears streaming down her cheeks, and without realizing it, I felt a cold trail of tears on my own face.

Clenching my teeth, I wiped my eyes and focused on her.

Anything but hate. That’s something I can’t stand to see in her anymore.

“Did she hit you too?” Amery asked, her voice shaky and filled with sniffles, yet she didn’t move closer.

I shrugged, my gaze dropping to my fists tightly gripping the warm comforter draped over my legs.

The dark bruise encircling my wrist spoke volumes about what had transpired.

"Sometimes, yes. But it was more like a shit show. She thrived on the pain she inflicted." A smirk crossed my face as I recalled the heated metal she had her damn dog press against my back, torso, or thigh. Eventually, when her interest waned, she would pit her little guard against me until one of us collapsed in a mess of blood and injuries. It was always her minion who fell because I couldn't afford to lose and give her any more control over me than she already possessed.

"Why was she targeting you? What did you possess that she desired?" Another question, and it seemed she had pieced together the fragments, just waiting for me to assemble them into a coherent narrative.

I pulled my knees tightly to my chest, hiding my face in my lap, filled with dread at the thought of revealing the truth, but it was inevitable. There was no way to avoid it.

Chapter Twenty One

My cousin Tyson was strikingly similar to me in appearance, which was both fascinating and strange. We often used this resemblance to play pranks on others, but our plan had a significant flaw: our voices. Tyson's voice was rough, while mine had a sharper edge, and heavy. Beyond that, our personalities diverged; I was the more extroverted and accommodating one, while he thrived on being the center of attention for all the wrong reasons, often indulging in bullying.

I despised the negative image he created for himself, but everything changed when he was sentenced to ten years in prison for causing a boy totake his own life, a boy who was likely his classmate. I’m not sure how severe the bullying was, but it was notorious, as I heard from others during my vacation at my grandparents' place.

My family advised me to ignore the town's rumors and gossip and just enjoy my time there, which I did.

However, that turned out to be my last vacation there. I had to relocate with my parents to Hong Kong after my dad secured a well-paying job, and the company provided everything he needed, so it made sense.

Later that year, we received the tragic news that my uncle and aunt had died in a car accident while visiting a friend in a nearby town. Unfortunately, due to a typhoon, we were unable to find flights to the U.S. for a week.

My parents and I missed the funeral, but Tyson was granted a twenty-four-hour parole to attend. When my grandfather moved in with us after we relocated to NYC due to health issues, he passed away that same year. Tyson wasn’t allowed to visit him, as it would require transferring him from North Carolina to New York City, which wasn’t feasible.

Since then, I have not seen him.

News of his release travelled down through the family vines. He was just seventeen when he went to prison. I made plans to visit him, but then I learned he had gotten married and moved to Nevada. It felt like our connection had completely faded, and given his actions, I felt no attachment to him whatsoever.

It was only after I accepted the commission from Elijah Montgomery last year that I learned about Tyson and Willow. Considering the challenges he faced in his early years, his passing felt shockingly sudden and, for the most part, solitary.

Whether he was family or it was his ex-wife's new husband who hired me didn't matter much to me. Work is work. I had my own life, a wife, and a home to maintain. Bills needed to be paid, and luxuries required money. I couldn't afford to be selective about my projects; while I enjoyed the freedom my job offered, I still adhered to the rules of my business.

I had also promised Amery a good life when I persuaded her to move to Willow Crest. She left her lucrative job for me, so it was my responsibility to provide for her. Even though her automobile business took off and she started earning well, we decided to allocate our income into different categories: one for our future, one for investments, one for expenses, and one for when we decide to have children. To support all of that, I needed to earn more, regardless of my status as a high-priced artist. Some things just are what they are.

Taking on this job wasn't a necessity; it was my workaholic tendencies that drove me to do it.

However, everything changed when I met Willow. She was the new girl in town, having moved to the most unusual place imaginable.

Initially, she came to commission a piece, but then she started visiting frequently under the pretense of checking on the progress of her last-minute request for a dragon.

At first, I found it strange that her request mirrored the project I was already working on, and her name echoed that of the deceased woman in whose honor this piece was created. However, I pushed those thoughts aside and got to work.

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