Page 77 of Finding New Dreams

Silence fell in the cab as Wyatt and I both glanced back at Owen, then at each other.

I shrugged. Owen had always been very private. Hell, he literally lived in a giant, secret cabin in the woods. He shared what he wanted to, and we’d never pried. We took him as he was, which was good enough for all of us.

Wyatt cleared his throat. “Agreed. And really, who would want the umpteenth article about another one of Bud and Cheryl’s hookups?”

Owen and I laughed.

“Their fights are more interesting, honestly,” I said. “Remember that one…”

And for a few dozen miles as we drove north out of the cities, the three of us reminisced on the funny and endearing history of our town. It made me feel like I was part of the group again, like I’d never left.

A thought lit up my mind like a camera flash.

What if I lived in Tangled River again? Then I could have this all the time. Wyatt and Owen, plus the other men and women I’d grown up with or gotten to know recently, were a circle of true friends. I could be part of that circle.

The only circle I was a part of in L.A. was an endless one of parties and people who either saw me as someone they could use for their own gain or didn’t see me at all.

I liked being seen.

Not as the amazing artist at a showcase. Not as the hot guy ready for a hookup.

But as Rose saw me. As my Tangled River friends saw me.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out, hoping to see her name. Disappointment pulled my face into a scowl.

Ozzy.

I’d been ignoring his calls for several days, and I wasn’t about to answer now. I knew what he wanted, and I wasn’t ready to give up anything yet. Not the painting, not these friends, and definitely not Rose.

I ignored the call and noticed I’d missed a text from Mrs. Q thirty minutes ago.

Opening it, my scowl morphed into a grin at the picture she’d taken with one of her art classes—kids I’d spent time with in their classroom. They were holding up their individual art projects and beaming.

Earlier this week, I’d shown them how to use white space and darker colors to give the appearance of glow, shine, and white objects. It’d been part of the inspiration for the moonscape idea with Rose.

The kids’ paintings included a few moonscapes, a white dog on a bed of green grass, water spilling over a tile floor, and an impressive night sky filled with stars.

Flynn: Those are AMAZING! Tell them to keep up the good work!

She sent a thumbs up and a smiley face.

Still smiling, I opened the dating app and messaged Rose to tell her about the kids’ paintings.

RoseWithLove: Oh, I love that! They seem to love learning from you. Who knows, maybe you inspired a few of them to become artists themselves :)

ArtsyHotGuy3234: Ha! Wouldn’t that be a turn…the artist who was struggling to find inspiration inspires a group of kids to be artists.

RoseWithLove: I totally believe that inspiring others can inspire yourself. And that adding even the smallest new window of thought into a kid’s life can show them a whole new world they might not otherwise have found.

ArtsyHotGuy3234: Like how Mrs. Q and her fun with art made me want to be an artist.

RoseWithLove: Exactly! For me, it was one of my foster moms. She did exquisite charcoal drawings but had tons of other art supplies she let me use. She taught me a few things and lent me a few books so I could teach myself. I thought she, of all the other moms, would keep me, but…too many kids already, she said.

ArtsyHotGuy3234: You say something like that and all I want to do is gather you up in my arms and hold you until I see that smile of yours.

She sent me a selfie, smiling brightly and…wearing a red bikini top with white polka dots. I couldn’t see the rest because she was submerged in water. A hot tub?

RoseWithLove: Well, here’s the smile, but I’ll still take the hug.

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