Page 64 of His Big Bad Stick

Her artwork is back in her hands.

I have the taste of sweet cunt lingering on my tongue.

And I didn’t have to physically hurt anyone.

15

Abrielle

I stare at the large pickup truck full of artwork.

My artwork.

I can feel myself wanting to cry.

Instead, I take a deep breath.

Colver stands next to me, arms folded.

“How much…?” I whisper.

“Not enough,” he says. “But enough to get them off his hands. I might have scared him a little too.”

The left side of my mouth curls up into a slight grin.

Of course a part of me wanted to hear that Colver beat the living hell out of Simon, but I get it. We’re not eighteen and it’s not something that will go away on its own. This is grown up stuff.

I’m not sure how much of a grown up I feel like right now though.

“I had some of the guys help me load it up,” Colver says. “Just to get out of there as fast as possible. I chased that little fuck outside and made him stay there. Which, by the way, nice choice in men.”

“Screw you,” I whisper. “Who would you pick for me? Someone like you?”

Colver walks to the back of his truck, drops the tailgate and starts to grab my precious artwork.

“I don’t have much space inside,” I say. “But I guess it’ll have to do.”

“No choice, kitten. I’m not keeping an eye on these.”

I love how Colver can just draw a line in the sand and stick to it.

For the next little while we pass back and forth, carrying my paintings into my small apartment.

Somehow we manage to get them all into my apartment and I still have room to walk.

The end result is a gigantic mess, but it’s fitting for me.

Perfectly fitting for me.

Colver ends up at the door, leaning against the doorway.

“This really means-”

“Simon is going to get a call too,” Colver cuts in. “Possibly a letter. My lawyer is great at scaring people. He’s good with the language of it. I’m good with the physical part of it. So I highly doubt this guy will bother you about a lease and your paintings. As far as other shit with him… that ring you threw into the woods… I can’t help with that.”

“He’s dead to me,” I say. “He has been for a while. I’m ashamed I let it all happen the way I did for as long as I did.”

“Why let it feel that way? That’s just how it goes.”

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