Page 171 of Delicate Storm

And yet, as I stare up into Easton’s penetrating gaze, I realize I don’t need those things to protect me anymore. I have him. And Isaac. It’s about time I shared that part of myself with someone else.

It’s about time I let someone else in. Completely.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Paige

My eyes bounce between Easton and the sketch in his hand as he waits for me to respond. I’m not even sure he’s aware of the complexity of his question, but I have no doubt he’ll understand when I tell him. He gets me in a way I never thought anyone could. I always assumed it was me against the world. I never considered the possibility that I’d fully commit to someone else. That I’d ever share that big a piece of myself. I’ve seen the way relationships crumble, taking down everyone around them. I’ve experienced it. How could I ever believe in something that’s about as strong as a sandcastle?

My parents are divorced, my grandparents are divorced. My Mom’s having an affair with my ex’s dad, so clearly his relationship—that I always assumed was rock-solid based on their shared disregard for other people’s feelings—is a sham.

The thought of splitting my heart in two and giving up half of it used to make me nauseous. It wasn’t something I ever wanted to do. Yet now, I’ve split it in three. And I’ve never felt more complete.

Easton must see something in my gaze because he lowers my sketch and his face drops with it. “Fuck, I’m sorry. This is clearly personal and—”

“No.” I rush forward, placing my hand on his heart. “I want to share everything with you. You momentarily caught me off guard because I’m not used to talking about that part of me. But I want to.”

“You don’t—”

“I want to,” I cut in. “I’m all in, Easton. You’re stuck with me now.”

Easton smiles before his eyes drift to my sketch once more. “Have you drawn me?”

I grimace but when he raises an eyebrow, I laugh. “I have.”

“How? When? The only time I’ve ever seen you sketch was by the pool when you didn’t know I was watching you.”

“I kind of sketch from memory.”

“You what?” His eyes widen before he raises the sketch in front of me as though I don’t know what’s on there. “This is Isaac,” he whispers in wonderment. “You’ve captured the cheekiness in his gaze, the dusting of freckles on his nose that are heavier on the left, his crooked smile.”

My nose scrunches as my cheeks heat. “That wasn’t my first try,” I admit. “I’m kind of obsessed with getting him right. I needed something in case this all went wrong.”

Easton’s gaze softens. “We really made a mess of things, didn’t we? If only we’d realized how important this was from the beginning.”

“I’m not sure we’d have ended up in the same place. I needed the time, and I think you did too.”

“You’re right.” He puts the sketch down and wraps his arms around my waist. “I’m happy we finally got there.”

“Me too.” I palm his cheek and lean back to stare into his eyes. “Only we still have a lot to overcome.”

“True, but we’re going to do it together.” Mimicking my move, Easton grabs my face and gently caresses my lips, his mouth perfectly molding to mine. It’s a short kiss, but it packs so much emotion that I feel it down to my toes. He smiles as he pulls back, and my heart races. Until his smile morphs into a smirk.

“So, can I see the sketch?”

I exaggeratedly cringe as my racing heart changes to more of a pounding. “You can. But I haven’t spent as much time on you as I have on Isaac.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.”

I rush off to the spare bedroom, otherwise known as my office, and search through my pile of sketches until I find one of Easton that I’d be willing to share.

With his mussed hair and serious expression, he’s staring into the eyes of the viewer, his penetrating gaze drawing you in, making you feel like you're the only person that matters, like you’re all that he sees. It’s my favorite look of his. And one I keep close to my heart.

“Wow. This is… God, who am I staring at with that much intensity?” He laughs a little awkwardly.

“Me.” I scrunch my nose again. “That’s how you look at me.”

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