Page 2 of Dare To Live

“You will have to learn to trust someone other than me at some point.”

Why is he dragging all this back up now? We survived something terrible when we were eighteen. Something that has left us both changed.

One year at that school shaped who I am today. The things that happened left cracks and splits inside me that have never fully healed. Ten years on, and I still have scars—both physical and mental.

“Miles—”

“Remind me how many relationships you’ve been in since you moved to L.A.”

My free hand moves to touch the small padlock pendant on the chain around my neck that I never take off, my fingertips caressing the metal. “Two.”

“And how long did they last?” His voice is soft and gentle.

“A couple of months.”

“You are an incredibly beautiful woman, Arabella. I hate seeing you alone.”

I let my hand drop from my neck. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Miles is on a mission. He does this sometimes. Tries to use whatever his therapist is telling him on me.

I glance around at elegantly dressed people chatting and moving from painting to painting.

“Please don’t tell me you invited me here this evening for a blind date.” My voice is light, but if he admits he has, I’m going to kill him.

Miles chuckles. “No, but Ivan has a friend who would be perfect for you.”

I discard my drink on an empty tray as a server passes us and take a step away from my friend. “I’m not interested.”

“Bella, you’re twenty-eight.” He touches my arm, preventing my escape. “You should be enjoying life.”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Is my fiancé causing a scene?”

Relief courses through me at the interruption, and I turn to find Ivan watching us, an amused gleam in his eyes.

“He’s decided to nag me over my single status, again.”

“Miles.” The older dark-haired man rumbles something in Russian.

My best friend’s face flushes red at whatever he said.

“Arabella should be madly in love. Not all alone.”

“Behave.” Ivan gives his lover a warning look. “Bella, you should let me display the stained glass you create. I would be honored to have it here for everyone to see.”

I accept his arm when he offers it to me, happy for the change in conversation. “No, it’s just a hobby. I don’t do it for other people to see.”

He pats my hand. “The pieces I saw were exquisite. You’d have buyers climbing over each other to own one.”

“No one is supposed to know they exist.”

I worked on them in the spare room in my apartment. Whenever Miles came over, I made sure the door was shut so he wouldn’t see them. I didn’t want to set off any triggers he might have from our shared past.

But Ivan was nosy … curious about why I kept the door locked. His persistence finally drove me to show him. He’d walked around, examining the way the molten colors of the stained glass poured on the floor through the light of the window, and declared that one day he would convince me to display them.

My obsession with the glass consumes a lot of my spare time. I can sit and stare at my creations for hours, getting lost in my thoughts. I am fascinated by how the changing weather can affect the shards, turning them from something bright and cheerful to something somber and melancholy. The beauty haunts me with tragic images seared into my brain from ten years ago. Yet still, I’m drawn to create them.

“One day, I will convince you.” Ivan disrupts my thoughts.

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