Page 19 of Fire of the Fox

As I lay there waiting for sleep, my mind replayed everything that happened today, and I lingered on the trip to Italy in an effort to think positive thoughts. A well-worn apron covered in stains of white, emerald, Persian blue, and gold. The smell of acrylic paints greeting me every morning in my very own studio. Canvas after canvas depicting the beauty of the world around me. It was all seeming closer than it ever had before, and it started with Luca Romano and the trip to Italy.

I just needed the money.

Hope warred with doubt, making my chest constrict.

I started making a mental list of all the ways I could get the fee. I could apply for some jobs around campus tomorrow with Dallas’ help. Hopefully, I could find one that worked around my school schedule. Even with the job, there was no way I’d be able to save up five thousand dollars before the first of November. It was already September 2. Maybe I could sell some of my stuff, or better yet, I could sell some of my paintings. It would take a lot, and I wasn’t sure how I’d manage a part-time job, classes, homework, painting, and time for myself.

But I had to do it.

With a heavy sigh, I rolled onto my side and glanced out the half-closed blinds of my window. The stars twinkled in the black sky, and the moon bathed the sleeping world below in its silver light. I wondered if my parents were out there somewhere, lying awake and thinking of me. Were they staring at that same moon, seeing the same stars as me, and wishing upon them with all their might to find me? Or were they a part of those stars now? Were they looking down on me from their place in the sky?

I clutched my comforter tightly in my hands and pulled it up to my chin. “I miss you, Mom and Dad.”

The words were barely a whisper. So much so, I wasn’t sure if I’d actually said them. But my entire soul was tied to those six words.

I’d never met my real parents. I didn’t know a single thing about them. That didn’t stop the ache in my chest and burn in my eyes when I thought of them. I liked to pretend that if we were still together, my mother would hold me close and run her fingers through my hair after a long day. She’d tell me how much she loved my paintings and that she’d always be first in line to buy them. My father would twirl me around and laugh with pride before telling me that my happiness was all that mattered.

Not Greg and Wendy.

The Ashmoores were very kind people, but they were realists. When I first showed interest in painting as a little girl and told them I wanted to be a painter, they laughed and indulged the idea while exchanging a look that could only be interpreted as doubt. When I got older and still wanted to be a painter, there was no more pretending to support my “childish fantasies.”

I still remembered the night they sat me down at family dinner. They had ordered Chinese takeout—my favorite—in an effort to lessen the blow they planned on delivering. During dinner, they told me it was time to grow up. They said I needed to think about my future realistically and to give up my dream because it wasn’t reasonable. It was a joke. If I didn’t think about getting a “real job,” they’d stop buying me art supplies and letting me take art classes. I left that dinner table that night with tears streaming down my face, and my entire world shattered.

I locked away my hopes and dreams that night, hiding them in the deepest parts of myself. Who could’ve guessed that Professor Lichen would find that old key to hand back to me. All I had to do now was take it and unlock that door.

And I was going to.

I’d wipe away the dust, put the key in the lock, and swing the door open wide.

Chapter Nine

“HOW MANY ARE you applying for?”

I glanced over at Dallas from where I’d been filling out my tenth application. She was curled up at the foot of my bed, and she crunched away on a potato chip. The two of us had been cooped up in our dorm all day. We’d started out with homework, and once we’d finished that, we got some snacks and movies to relax.

The Proposal was currently on, but I was too busy typing up and filling out applications to pay attention. After my resolve solidified last night, I knew I had a lot to do, which started with applying for as many jobs as I could. There had to be one that could fit into my schedule.

“It’s just to be sure I get one,” I told her.

“Well, at the rate you’re going, you’re bound to get a handful.”

Her phone dinged, and she perked up. “Rance has our pizzas for us! He’s on his way now.”

“Why don’t you invite him to stay and watch movies? I need to start working on some paintings anyway.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin our girl day.”

I waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, really. We’ve had all day together, and I’m sure you’d both like to see each other since it’s Saturday night. And like I said, I’m gonna start working on a painting to sell.”

Her face lit up, and she leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

Smiling wryly, I went back to the application. “I know.”

“Speaking of boys,” she started, leaning in close. “Have you heard from Rune?”

I sighed as the first hint of disappointment brewed in my gut. He hadn’t texted once since I gave him my number, and the question of why had secretly plagued me all day. I mean, he asked for my number. So why hadn’t he contacted me? We’d clearly hit it off last night. The suspense of waiting for a text was driving me bonkers.

Picking up my phone from where I’d tossed it the last time I’d checked it for notifications, I said, “No. He still hasn’t—”

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