Page 87 of The Sculptor

“Silence your screams,” he commands, his eyes red from exhaustion. “Help us remember.”

Then he lies down on the floor where we did this so many years before. But this time, his body is bulkier with defined hills of muscles that disappear underneath his sweatpants. He’s all strength and power of a wealthy man, but the broken boy still hovers at the surface, waiting to break everything he’s built for himself.

Standing, I grab a throw pillow from the sofa and slip it under his head. His eyes close as soon as I place my hand on his cheek. “I promise to remember,” I agree, “if you’ll promise not to break.”

We’ve come too far and sacrificed too many years to break now.

“Don’t let our suffering be in vain.”

Never opening his eyes, Duke nods. He doesn’t want me to see the pain he hides away from the world. The pain that causes him to grieve every fall and winter.

This man is so strong—so good—pain can’t be the only thing in his future.

I press a kiss to his lips, and he makes a soft hum as he takes my hand. “Show me my heart, Ray.” He swallows under my touch, his face scrunching under my gaze.

Something in my heart flutters. This is the Duke Potter I know. The one that is obsessed with his heart—obsessed with the artist who holds it. This is the Duke who nestles me in his arms, whispering dreams and promises in my ear. I won’t let the silence take him again.

I can’t.

I owe him that much.

Reaching back, I remove my shirt and then unclasp my bra, letting it fall to my wrists, watching as his eyes take in the exposed skin before I toss it to the floor.

“Give me your hand, Dr. Potter.” He does, and I bring it to my mouth, placing a kiss to his palm. This man might need to see his heart, but I want him to feel it thrumming under my skin, beating erratically every time he comes into my view. He can feel, without a doubt, how much I love him—how much I breathe just for him by merely feeling.

He’s the reason I kept going all these years.

He’s the reason I still believe in love.

He’s the reason I don’t scream anymore.

Pulling his hand away, I grab the paint and squirt a dab on his index finger. His eyes follow the slow, methodic movement as I bring his hand to my chest. “Stake your claim, husband.”

I can’t always be the one who shows him his heart. Sometimes, he needs to remember it still beats right where he left it.

He needs to know that no matter how much he shuts down, I am still here, holding on to all that’s precious to him.

With need nestled deep in his eyes, Duke presses the tip of his finger to my chest and draws his heart, reclaiming the space I hold so dear. “I—” he starts, then shakes his head.

“You what?” I grab the paint and squirt some onto my finger, too, holding his gaze as he wrestles with the thoughts in his head.

He swallows, his jaw working. “I feel guilty.”

A part of me is excited he’s finally opening up rather than holding on to his silence, but then there’s another part of me that dreads hearing what he needs to say.

“You have no reason to feel guilty.” I swipe down his chest with the paint, creating the outline of the image in my head—a pair of brown eyes.

“Yes, I do,” he argues, his eyes closing as I smudge the paint at the corners. “I feel guilty that I didn’t grieve with you while you waited—hoping. I just can’t—” He fights back the emotion. “I just can’t live with myself. I let you down, Ray, and I’m so fucking sorry I haven’t been there for you.”

As much as his words settle around my heart like a protective warmth, I can’t allow him to think I blame him for anything. “I didn’t want you to be there for me, Duke.”

I grab more paint, this time squeezing it directly on his chest.

He sucks in a deep breath at the cool sensation. “I should have been there for you anyway—whether you wanted me to or not.”

I can’t help but grin. My white knight who can’t take no for an answer. The world’s problems are always his burden to carry. “No, you shouldn’t have. I couldn’t even look at you back then—not up close, anyway. I watched you from afar because it hurt too much to love you up close.”

I frown as his hand cups my cheek. “You reminded me of what I could never have. All I saw when I looked at you was a future that the heavens now held. You were the father that gave his last breaths to save his son. You were the soulmate who endured ridicule and rumors to save me from being labeled a teen mom.”

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