Page 4 of The Right Kind of Wrong

CHAPTER 2

Evelyn

“Are you going to tell me what you did to poor old Carter?” Nathan asked, breaking the hug.

“Sent him on a mission.” I shrugged, walking past him and into the oh-so-plain house. It was so colorless, just white and boring. Lifeless, like my sister. “It's good to see you're still painting,” I said with a smile.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“I thought my dad would have convinced you to join the company already,” I replied with a raised brow.

Nathan shuddered at the mere mention of the company; he really hadn't changed.

“It's good to have you back,” he said with a warm smile.

“Good to know at least you think that.”

I'm sure my sister won't.

“Where's Hannah?”

“Working.” Nathan rolled his eyes as he spoke, clearly not fond of my sister working so much.

“You're off today?”

“I'm home, so it sure seems that way.” I gasped at his sarcasm. That hadn't changed either.

He'd grown up too. He was twenty-two when I left, and recently married to my sister. I shifted on my feet, realizing he was still looking at me intently.

“What?” I asked. As confident as I was, being studied so carefully made me nervous, no matter who the person was.

“I'm glad you're still the same girl that left,” he said.

I didn't bother replying to him. Instead, I started my exploration of the house, even though I knew everything was probably exactly as it had been years ago. What I was looking for was Nathan's studio. I wanted to see what he had been working on. His sketches had always been amazing. I was truly excited to see how his style had changed. He'd sent me pictures of his art while I was away, but seeing them in person would be different.

Knowing exactly what I was looking for, Nathan walked ahead with pride to his little hiding place.

We ended up going to the backyard where there was a little house, one that wasn't there before. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“I built it. Hannah didn't want anything like this in the house, so to avoid issues, I decided to build my own studio.”

Typical Hannah.

When Nathan opened the door, I was met with an array of canvases, some halfway done, some which were obviously used to take out his frustration, but all of them equally breathtaking. I stood there in awe, taking in the sight in front of me.

“Not bad,” I said, making no attempt to hide my admiration. “Were you working on something right now?” I asked him, eyeing one of the canvases that happened to have the same colors currently on his shirt. It was undecipherable, but still, the colors looked beautiful; the yellow and orange tones combining to look almost like a sunrise.

“This is pretty amazing,” I murmured.

Nathan didn't say anything and leaned against a desk, ruffling his hair once again.

“You guys should frame some of these for the house,” I suggested. These would have surely helped to breathe some life into the dull place they called home.

It made me proud to know he was still pursuing his dreams. Nathan didn't come from a family like mine. His parents had always been involved and encouraging, even after they met my sister and parents.

“Has Hannah changed?” I asked, hoping the answer was “yes.”

Nathan frowned. “Meaning?”

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