Page 79 of Obsessed

“He was.” Pulling a book free, Rain read the back cover. “Andgoodbecause who hates a five-year-old that much? Like, he used to stare at me with this…this rage. It put me off from the whole talk therapy thing.”

“I tried therapists because Gran wanted me to, but…” He echoed Rain’s shudder.

“But you don’t talk.” Rain turned to Mason, book in hand.

“No.” Mason was going to say more but Rain’s jaw dropped open.

“Wait, is that an easel back there? Are those paintings?” He leaned out, peering around Mason. “This room is ridiculous!”

“It was two bedrooms but my grandfather turned it into a master suite. When he died, she threw out all of his things and made that area into her studio.” Mason had long since cleaned it up and the easel stood empty, but the works that lined the walls spoke of her love of painting.

Walking over to the windows, he pushed back the gauzy curtains, letting in more light, and memories washed over him but this time he didn’t push them away. This time he let them in, and while tinged with melancholy they didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected.

“I love hearing things about Joyce, she was such a queen.” Rain squinted at a figurine on the dresser. “Mason…is that a cricket?” He pointed, his cheeks puffing as he held back a giggle.

Mason nodded once, solemnly. “She got it at a yard sale when I was three, said it reminded her of me.”

“Stop being so adorable.” He stroked it once with the tip of his index finger and then straightened up, heading toward Mason, but his foot caught on a stack of circular cans, and one fell over. It opened and a long strip of film unwound, falling out.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Kneeling, Rain placed the book next to him, winding the strip back into the canister. “What is this?”

“Eight-millimeter film of my grandmother from the sixties to the eighties. I found it after she died.” Even though he’d known the end was coming, it still hit him hard and after she passed he’d done nothing for months, sandwiched between caregiver burnout and grief until he’d woken up one day with a need to scour the house, to know more about the woman who’d left him. He’d found the film canisters at the bottom of a box that held several of her housecoats and had thought about getting them transferred, but his avoidance hadn’t allowed it.

“That’s so cool. You can see her when she was young!” Carefully picking up another canister, Rain studied the label.

“I haven’t watched them. I know I’d see her but I’d also see my grandfather too. And my dad as a miniature bully.”

“Ah.” He put the canisters down. As he stood, his eye caught something else and Mason watched him loom over Gran’s jewelry display. “Oh wow, that’s pretty.”

“What is?” Mason joined him by the dresser, picking up Rain’s book along the way.

“That silver bracelet, it sparkles.” He stroked it, looking up at Mason, but then his gaze shifted and his eyebrows shot up. “This bedroom has a balcony?” Dashing to the doors, Rain slid them open and walked out despite the December chill. Wrapping his arms around himself, he looked over the yard. “There’s the weeping willow!”

Usually, Mason couldn’t take his eyes off Rain but his attention was divided between him and the bracelet. It gleamed, capturing his attention in the same way Rain did, and Mason rubbed his chin, considering.

Cricket, if you don’t give that to him, I’ll kick your butt.

With the holidays approaching fast, they’d finally gotten snow and Mason woke up that morning almost shaking with enthusiasm. Between the time without Rain and the long days before the exhibition, he’d been sure that he’d drained his creativity for good. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth because now that his elfin prince was back, he’d been blasted by a surge of inspiration so vast that his brain spun at twice the speed.

He needed to offload some ideas and another modeling session sprung out of the dream-fogged swirl in his mind. They hadn’t shot anything together since their autumn tryst under the weeping willow, so this would be a fresh start.

“Let’s do an outdoor shoot.” He leaned over Rain, who was sprawled across the bed, still blinking sleep out of his eyes.

“Good morning to you too.” A drowsy grin spread across his face as Mouse approached, walking between them and begging. “Okay, where?”

“Gran’s balcony.” The winter sky would stretch out perfectly behind Rain, matching his gorgeous eyes.

Sitting up, Rain gathered Mouse close, cuddling her.

“Hell yeah. But first, I have to feed the starving feline and take a shower. Oh! I can bring Mouse out for a few photos. I got her a harness.” He smirked dangerously. “Maybe I should get one too.”

Mason blinked. “Why? You’re not a cat.”

Rain stared at him for a moment before laughing. “Prepare your cameras, I’ll get ready.”

An hour later, Mason was bundled in his jacket and scarf, kneeling on the carpet in Gran’s room and capturing Rain through the open doors as he posed on the balcony. Since snow liked to trick the exposure, Mason had needed a few tester shots but he knew that even if he had it wrong, whatever pictures he took would be nearly perfect since Rain had outdone himself.

Stunning in a long magenta parka and matching earmuffs, Rain looked like a deity against all that white, and he certainly carried himself like one, for he modeled as if it were second nature, languidly twisting and turning his body, letting his hair flow free in the wind, and Mason seized it all, snatching every move, every blink, feeling the tug as he pulled Rain’s soul through the lens.

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