Page 36 of Naughty Nicky

Pen moves to come toward me, but I hold up a hand. “Stay where you are. I’m still working.”

She moves back to the position she was in, and I wait for her next question. “Why didn’t they come back? When they found out he was sick?”

“We all talked about it,” I tell her. “Brandon was the one listed on Dad’s medical records. One day Dad had a bad fall from too much whiskey. When he was admitted to the hospital, they also found the cancer. It took me almost a year to get it out of Dad that he knew something was wrong long before that fall. It pains me to think it, much less say it. But if he had gone to thedoctor before then, I might not be here today. He may have been able to get rid of the cancer with chemo.”

Sadness sits on her face, and I take advantage of it, adding some kind of realism to the painting. I take my time adding in the detail to her round eyes that are almost too large for her face, making sure the green is the exact right color and the gold flecks are pronounced.

“So why you and not one of them?”

“They are both married and have kids and corporate jobs. It was too much strain for them to give everything up to come back here.”

“You left because of him but came back because of him.”

I shrug. “It was going to be one of us. We all left because of Dad. It was just the easiest for me to come back.”

“So you take care of him?”

I laugh darkly. “Hardly. I used to make sure he got to his doctor appointments every week, to his chemo sessions. Hell, I even tried to get him to AA meetings. But the guy is as stubborn as they come. Luckily, I got him to quit smoking while he was getting chemo, but once the doctors realized it wasn’t going to work and that the cancer was beginning to spread, he stopped treatment. Then started smoking and drinking again. Honestly, at this point I just check on him a few times a week to make sure he’s still breathing. I could have left by now and just paid someone to do that.”

“But you care about him.”

I hate to admit she’s right, but I do care. He’s my dad. Even if he abused me physically and mentally and has been an asshole my entire life, he’s still my dad. “Yeah.”

“You’re a good person, Nick. Not many people would give up everything like you did.”

I sigh. “Well, some days I feel like it wasn’t even worth it.”

“Hey, if you weren’t here, then you wouldn’t have run into me, and I know you are just having the best time of your life right now with me around.”

I laugh heartily at that. “Yeah, Pen, you’re right. You’ve definitely made these last two days memorable.”

She huffs at that and sticks her chest out in pride, and I can’t help but laugh.

I get back into the groove of painting again, and another hour or so passes as I finish up the last of it. My final touches are of her breasts, barely peeking out underneath the coat. I think about the way my finger grazed them earlier, and my self-control starts to diminish. I want nothing more than to rip that damn jacket off her and take advantage of her, taste every inch of her.

But I hold on to the last bit of control I have as I sign my name at the bottom of the painting.

“All done,” I tell her.

She lets out a squeal and jumps. “I can’t wait to see!”

She wraps the jacket around her chest, finally covering up the damn temptation as she makes her way over to the painting.

Her hands cover her mouth as she takes it in. I can only imagine she is judging every single line and detail, from the flow of her hair to the freckles across her cheeks to the way her breasts peek out from under the jacket. Or maybe she will hate the way there is a sadness in her eyes I captured. This isn’t the playful picture she had in mind, instead a portrait of vulnerability and realism.

“I have no words,” she mutters from under her hands.

I look down at her. “You hate it.”

She hits me across the chest with the back of her hand, and I’m not expecting it. “Oof.”

“This is incredible, Nicky. Do I really look like this?”

“Like what?”

“Beautiful,” she says in awe.

I pull her toward me, instinctively, my hands making their way to cup her face. “Innately.”

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