Page 146 of In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes

At the edge of my conscious, all theyou’re not good enoughthoughts lurked, waiting for the chance to jump, but I held them back. I thought about Holden’s words for the hundredth time.

You’re okay.

When I painted people I loved, it strengthened our relationship. Painting Katherine had reminded me of all the things I loved about her. It made me feel so connected to her. Painting Holden had been like a religious experience between us. I allowed myself to study him openly and put him on canvas, show him how much I cared about him and how I truly saw him in the way I knew how.

I was still broke, but in three months, I had built a life here like Katherine did when she was my age, and I didn’t feel the burning sting of shame about Grant I once did.

It was time to forgive myself.

It was time to be okay, and a self-portrait was how I was going to do that.

I dragged my pencil over the canvas, sketching loose lines and shapes, until my figure took form on the canvas. The landscape behind me came next. As I worked, my mind settled. I sketched and mixed colors, letting my instincts take the front seat as I added tones to the mixes.

After a couple hours, I heard Holden’s truck pull up outside, and I sat back to study what I had painted.

My mouth curled into a soft smile. My throat clutched as I studied the painting of me in my yellow rain coat, standing on the beach, smiling. Hair flying in the wind, sky overcast and moody. Trees towering over me, sand stretching out to the dark ocean, waves crashing on the shore.

My life here was beautiful, and I was okay.

“Hi,” Holden said, leaning on the door frame with a pleased smile.

“Hi.” I gestured at the painting. “I did it.”

“You sure did, honey.” He walked over and wrapped me in a hug from behind.

I leaned back into his hard chest. “It’s not finished yet.”

He stared at the painting for a long moment before his gaze dropped to me. His hands rested on my shoulders and I met his eyes.

“What changed?” he asked in a low voice.

I thought back to years ago, when I was terrified to even start my own self-portrait. I filled my lungs and let the breath out as a sigh.

“I guess I know who I am, now. And I like who I am here with you.”

He squeezed my shoulders. “Nothing makes me happier than hearing that, honey.” He leaned down to press a kiss to my cheek.

“Me, too,” I whispered.

55

Holden

When I stopped by my parents’house a few evenings later, I followed the sound of the saw to the garage. I waited until my dad finished before catching his attention.

“Hey, Holden.” He stepped back and slid his mask and safety glasses off.

“What are you working on?”

He leaned down, inspecting his cuts in the lumber. “Your mother mentioned the community center bench is looking a bit shabby so I thought I’d build another one.”

My dad was always doing stuff like that for her. Maybe that was where I learned it.

My chest squeezed with the knowledge that after wanting that for so long, wishing for someone who looked at me like Avery and Hannah looked at Emmett and Wyatt, I had it.

“I didn’t know you were dropping by.”

I raked a hand through my hair, suddenly nervous. “It was a last minute decision.”

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