Page 105 of Better Luck Next Time

“She’s sweet,” he said, stroking the top of her head as she purred.

“That cat knows how to purr?” she asked in disbelief.

He made a face, his gaze still on the book. “You all keep saying she’s the devil, but she’s not so ferocious once you get to know her.”

Adalia gaped at him, sidestepping them both. “If you say so.”

“Decide to take a walk?” he asked, finally looking up.

“Yeah. I thought Tyrion might need to walk off some energy.”

“Tyrion, huh?” He hesitated, then asked, “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said decisively. “Definitely not.”

“Fair enough.” She started for the front door, and he said, “Sorry about letting Tyrion get away. Maybe we should look into putting in an invisible fence. I can probably install it. We’ll just need to train him.”

She turned back to him, horrified. “You want to shock my dog?”

“It wouldn’t hurt him. Plus, he’s smart. He’ll learn quickly.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “It’s better than risking he’ll get loose and be hit by a car or taken by someone who wants a husky.”

While she knew he had a point, she was in no frame of mind to consider it. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

She went inside and plugged in her phone, restless. And then she found herself going out to the shed, pulled by some magical force as if she had no free will to refuse. Tyrion followed her and sat by a tree as she opened the doors and stared into the studio created by the people who cared about her.

Finn had been one of them. There was no denying he cared about her, but she still couldn’t help thinking it was because he’d seen her at her worst—destroying her art, getting drunk at the Mexican restaurant. He’d seen her exposed and vulnerable, a state she didn’t allow many people to see. Not even Alan until she’d destroyed her own work.

Why would Finn stick around someone in her situation if not because he wanted to fix her? Because there was no doubt in her mind that’s what he’d been trying to do with the art show. This shed too. He’d tried to smooth out the cracks of her life as he’d done with the ripped seams of the painting.

You couldn’t build a relationship on that.

She grabbed a canvas and set it on the easel, then set up the paints and the brushes before smearing a line of red on the canvas.

The rip in her heart.

Using her palette, she added blues and greens and black, painting her pain and disappointment that one more person had hurt her.

She poured her heart onto the canvas, only becoming aware she was crying when Tyrion nuzzled her leg, whining. Setting down the brush, she squatted next to him and gave him a hug.

“I’m okay.” It was partially a lie, but he’d never know.

From her squat, she looked up at the painting, feeling the urge to slash it to bits so that no one would ever see it, let alone be able to repair it. Especially since it felt like she’d cut her chest open and attached her heart to the canvas. It was raw and real, and it made her feel more naked and exposed than any other painting before it.

She stood and touched a corner, fresh tears filling her eyes. Finn had been wrong, so, so wrong. He couldn’t fix her. No one could.

No one but her.

The first step was to acknowledge that she was an artist. Art ran through her veins along with her blood. She could no more live without it than she could live without oxygen. Denying it was denying part of herself, and she’d never heal until she accepted it.

Which also meant no more destroying it. She could hide it, but to destroy it would be like slashing her own heart.

And as much as painting had purged her troubled mind, it wasn’t enough. It had been a stopgap over the last few months, but it would never be enough.

Wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, she smiled down at Tyrion. “How about we take a drive?”

She ran upstairs and put on a fresh T-shirt and a worn pair of overalls, wrapping a large headband around her head to keep her hair back. Then she ran downstairs and grabbed her phone and called Blue.

“How was your date?” Blue asked, her excited tone knifing into Adalia.

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