Page 62 of Wicked Devotions

“I’ll dig it out of storage.”

“Is that what you do with all your paintings? Put them in storage?”

“Yeah.” He tosses his arm over the back of the bench. “For now, at least. I’d love to have them all put in a show someday.”

“Why wait for someday? Do it now.”

“I can’t. There’s family stuff.” His expression darkens, and instinctively I know not to push him.

“Well, when you can have one, I’ll be first in line to see everything.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.” He grabs a lock of my hair and twirls it around his finger. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“What are the prescriptions for?”

“Sleep aids, anxiety medication, and birth control.” I break my gaze away from his. “I’m not sure if I’ll use the first two.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to become dependent on the sleeping pills.”

He nods. “And the anxiety meds?”

“I grew up in a household that didn’t believe in getting help for mental health issues. I don’t even think my dad believes in that stuff. Healways told us to pray and that God would deliver answers.”

“Wonder how that’s working for him now,” he says wryly.

“Right? Prayer was my answer for so many things but now, who am I praying to? How am I supposed to pray to a God who let my father do so many evil, vile things?”

“That’s tough. I don’t have answers, but I can say I’m a big proponent of better living through chemistry. Whatever you decide, we’ll support you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You’re definitely taking that birth control though.”

“I’m sorry, was that a question?”

“It was not.” He smirks. “And you know it.”

A text from the pharmacy comes through letting me know my prescriptions are ready. Saved by the interruption, I shoot to my feet. “Time to go.”

He follows me but hangs back while I ask the pharmacist some questions. When I meet him back at the front, he’s holding a sack filled with candy and some energy drinks. When I look at him questioningly, he shrugs.

“I’m feeling inspired to work tonight. The energy drinks and candy help me stay focused.”

He puts all our bags in the little storage compartment under his seat and then gets on. I’m buckling my helmet when his fingers cover mine and pull them away. He straightens the clips and then buckles the straps for me.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Can’t risk anything happening to my precious cargo.” As I climb on behind him, he looks over his shoulder. “Do you wanna grab dinner before we go back?”

My stomach has been grumbling for the past hour, so I tell him yes and to pick the spot. I still don’t know anything in town, and I’m not picky when it comes to food. A few minutes later we pull up into a Mexican restaurant’s parking lot. The scent of spiced meat and fried tortillas fills the air, immediately pulling a loud growl from my stomach. Cy looks at me with a goofy grin.

“Let’s get you fed.”

Chapter

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