Page 24 of Possession

His brows knotted. “Why don’t I believe you?”

I puffed out a laugh. “Because you’re too observant, I guess.”

“Do me a favor. I’d rather not get…” he pointed his finger at my stomach, “Whatever the hell it is you have, so go home.” His smile was lopsided, but he was being serious.

“Really?” I scrunched my nose when he nodded.

“Before you leave though, could you grab a few things from the studio for me while I finish up this last bit of inventory? The customer who rented the place called earlier and he said he’d be by to pick up a few supplies he’d left last night.”

My heart stopped.

Last night? Could it be Declan?

I nodded and he gave me a small cardboard box and a list of things to grab for the client.

He walked to the small pile of paints he had to shelve and left me to it. The studio door was at the end of my tunneled vision and, as I moved toward it, the room spun. Once I entered, and the smell of paint assaulted my senses, I practically stumbled over my own two feet as the canvas came into view. It was the same painting, his painting, but now mostly completed. I swallowed down my panic and let the vibrant colors pull me toward the larger-than-life blue eyes. It almost looked like a photograph. The detail was immaculate. The sadness nearly palpable.

The paints and brushes Declan had requested were sitting on the stool. They were his own. I didn’t recognize the brush brand. My fingers trembled as I picked up the wooden handle of one of the smaller brushes. I might’ve been imagining things, but when I closed my eyes, I felt the heat of his skin, and the rough patches of his calloused flesh on mine. It was like he’d left his imprint, and the minute I connected with something of his I felt him, deeply, in my bones, my heart… in my soul.

“You’re crazy,” I mumbled.

“Paige?”

A small scream burst from my lips and I whirled around.

“Holy shit, I almost didn’t recognize you.” He was still a teenager the last time I saw him. He still looked the same, but older. His dark brown hair was cut short, his shoulders were huge and his chin was covered in a goatee.

“Kieran?”

He didn’t answer, but his mouth twitched at the corners.

“I have the supplies, I mean, I was getting them—”

My hands shook so hard I almost dropped everything to the floor as I tried to gather them and place them in the box.

“It’s alright. I can grab this stuff.” Kieran reached out and placed his hand over mine. A calm energy hummed in the room, and my throat closed off as tears pricked my eyes. “Has he seen you?” He watched me with careful eyes.

I nodded and a small sob bubbled up my throat.

He swore under his breath. “That makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“Declan used to go to St. Ann’s Cathedral every month after you guys broke up to light a candle. He stopped going a while ago. But today, he left the shop early and asked me to come here to pick up some of his stuff so he could go pray. He was insistent. This week has been rough for him and he’d been doing so…” He shook his head as if he’d said too much. “It makes sense, because here you are.”

“He lit a candle… every month?” I brought my fingers to my lips as the tears I’d been fighting finally fell. “What day?”

He narrowed his eyes. “The thirteenth, why?”

August thirteenth was the day we’d gone to the clinic.

“He’s at St. Ann’s?” I asked, my breath caught in my chest and pressed against my sternum, the rising need to leave, to find him, to connect, barreled through me.

He nodded. “Paige, listen he’s—”

“Thank you.” I dropped the brushes and box to the ground as I turned quickly to leave. It was the first sure thing I’d felt since I left Clark.

“Paige!” Kieran shouted and swore again, but I ignored him as I ran for the studio door.

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