Page 52 of Crimson Flames

My lips lift gently in response. I have seen Boris interacting with the team a lot, but it’s rare that he takes the extra time to comfort them.

“I believe you will find something you are great at, and I am happy to help with that in any way I can.”

“Really?” I ask, eying him. He is strong for an older guy, with very well developed muscles. “If you mean it, then teach me to fight so that I can join you guys one day.”

His head falls back, and he shakes his head as he mumbles. “I walked right into that one.”

Looking around the room to ensure we’re alone, his gaze meets mine before he nods.

“Alright, but this stays between us.” He holds out his hand and I shake it, the feeling of not being good enough sliding off of my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I say, opening my door and catching sight of Cillian’s wide grin just around the corner.

I guess nothing really stays a secret around here for long, but I’m just glad that maybe one day, I can belong. Until then, I’ll fight to show them that this is what I want.

I want to be part of this family.

Chapter 19

Dr. K thinks I should sketch out my trauma. Apparently, some of the people here use journals to work though their thoughts, but this doctor chick thinks that I’ll do better with my creative outlet.

What she doesn’t know is that I haven’t sketched a single thing since drawing the picture of Nessa’s baby bump while Boris and I planned out the nursery ideas.

The paper is in front of me, pencil in hand, but nothing comes. It’s infuriating. And I can’t figure out how to change it.

A knock sounds at my door, a welcome distraction. I expected it to be Nessa, so I’m a little surprised when I turn and find Kai standing in the doorway.

“Can I chill with you for a little bit? The kids are all doing a big activity in the kitchen, and it’s too loud in my room.”

Something I’ve noticed about Kai is that he doesn’t like it when the kids yell when they play. I think it’s safe to say that it’s a trauma response to hearing cries of fear and pain so often that he has a hard time differentiating.

“Have a seat,” I say, gesturing to the couch beside my sketching table. He flops down, pulling out a small package of Twizzlers before tossing one into his mouth.

His teeth might actually rot out of his head from this candy.

“What are you working on?” he asks, gesturing towards the blank paper on my desk.

Shaking my head, I put down the pencil. “Nothing.”

I try to wave it off, but Kai leans over, his head on his fist as he looks over my desk. He is barely a foot away from the paper, but looks at it as if he’s analyzing something in a museum.

“Is that the name of the piece? Nothing? Because if so, you totally nailed it.”

I can’t help but laugh as he sits back, a satisfied smirk on his face. “You’re a real piece of work,” I say, ruffling his hair.

He smiles, taking another bite of the red candy before picking up a pencil.

“What do you normally draw?”

I shrug. “Whatever I feel. Sometimes the lines start off as an emotion, like how a writer begins to type the words they feel, the line slows like that, taking shape to create the story I want it to tell.”

He nods before his face scrunches in confusion.

“So could you feel something like a circle?” he asks, drawing a lopsided circle on the page.

Picking up my pencil, I start where he left off.

“It’s not just the feeling though,” I say, taking the line up the page and beginning to draw the head of a giraffe.

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