Page 35 of Naughty Nicky

I run my finger over the head of a brush, not sure how to answer. I thought I did. I thought I escaped for good but now, now I am not so sure.

“You’ll find your way out eventually,” she says softly like she heard my thoughts. How could she possibly know or understand when she still really doesn’t even know why I’m here besides some vague answer I gave her. Everything I’ve shared with her is superficial. Even my art. I guess you could say it speaks to my soul, but it’s not self-portraits, so no one can see the real me.

“Yeah,” is all I say in return because I’m not so sure I will.

“How do you want me?”

Luckily, our brief conversation turned off all the synapses firing to my dick, and I can look at her as a subject and not something I want to fuck even though she is half naked. “Just stand against the window but don’t lean on it.” She does as I say. “Maybe put your hand on the window frame, like you’re looking outside.”

She moves into the position I instruct her, but something isn’t right. The way the jacket falls, the way her hair sits. I don’t want to touch her, afraid that the calm I just regained will go out the window, but I don’t know how to tell her how to fix them.

I walk over to her, and she watches me as I approach. “What are you doing?”

“I just need to fix a few things.”

Her breath quickens as I use my fingers to brush a few strands of hair away from her face. Her cheeks turn pink as I grab the jacket and adjust it on her shoulders so it sits back further and doesn’t look as large on her. My fingers graze her chest and the side of her breast as I fix the lapels so they sit just right.

“Nicky,” she whispers. I can hear the need in her voice, but I ignore it. My willpower is a lot stronger than I thought it could be.

I move back to my stool and mix some paints and get to work on painting Penelope.

I work in silence for almost an hour, and she does a good job of staying still but of course an hour is a long time for her not to talk and eventually she breaks the silence.

“Why did you come back here, Nick?”

I freeze. I’ve already told her the vague reason, but I know she is asking for more. And I don’t know why I feel obligated to give her that information freely. Maybe it was her vulnerability earlier or maybe because despite the fact I am painting her nearly naked, I feel relaxed and in my zone. I’m comfortable and know I can trust her.

“My dad is sick.”

I glance up at her, and she frowns. “How sick?”

“Stage four lung cancer. He’s probably only got a few months left.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be. You never knew the guy, and he’s not worth any apologies.”

She chews on her cheek, and I know she is about to pry for more information. So, I wait as I get back to the painting, focusing on the way her hair flows, how the few pieces I brushed out of her face have fallen back. They look better there than brushed back, and I make sure to add the detail to the painting.

“You said the reason you left Ouray to begin with was because of him.”

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t the best dad.”

“What did he do?”

I look up at her. “You really want to know?”

She nods.

“He was an abusive prick. Ever since Mom left, he took it out on me and my brothers. Brandon and David always kept an eye on me and took a lot of the abuse, but once they both left for college as desperate to get out as I was, it was just me and Dad. And he got worse the older he got.”

“That’s why you were always at our house,” she figures out.

“Yeah. Your mom and dad suspected it I think, but Wes always covered for me. We both weren’t sure what would happen if someone reported Dad to the authorities. Wes and I thought I would get sent away somewhere. I have an aunt out in Wyoming, and for two fifteen-year-old kids, that was too far away for your best friend to be.”

Tears sit in her eyes again, and I know she is trying hard to hold them back. “I’m sorry, Nick. I never knew.”

“Don’t apologize, Pen. No one knew except for my brothers and your brother, and that’s how we wanted it. Brandon came back from college every summer to make sure I was okay. And I always lied to him because I knew Dad would fuck him up worse than me. I learned to fight back. It got easier the older I got since Dad just became more of an alcoholic every day.”

---