Page 3 of The Secrets We Built Together

I knew he liked me.

Maybe today was going to be my lucky day.

Not that kind of lucky. I didn't have the necessary boy parts for Daniel to find me attractive. Anyway, I'd sworn off sex until I put paint to canvas.

Which could also be my problem, now I was thinking about it.

"It's no wonder you can't get any work done," Daniel said, grabbing some scissors and opening the box. "I swear I can see the moment your mind drifts off, and it happens on average two seconds after something loses your attention. Do you have a problem with shiny objects and squirrels?"

"Awww."

I practically swooned as I thought about their cute bushy tails, and Daniel barked out a laugh as I proved his point.

My hands flew up in the air in outrage, and I turned to storm out of the shop.

"No, please don't go. I'll miss you too much," Daniel said sarcastically, and I glared at him over my shoulder.

The stairs to the office above Books and Beans was behind a door next to the back room, and I quickly checked the store before I slipped through and headed up. I had no idea why I was being so secretive about this place. It wasn't like Delaney and the others wouldn't be completely supportive.

Although, maybe that was exactly why.

Delaney had been by my side through all the ups and downs of my life. She'd been the one at my side when my parents had cut me off, and she'd held my hand while I cried all my tears.

It wasn't a hard decision to make. I'd never been the person they wanted me to be, and art was such a massive part of me that walking away from it was the only decision I couldn't bear to make.

As soon as I'd realized that, I knew what I needed to do, and Delaney and her Aunt had taken me in and become my newfamily. The family I always wished I had. In some ways it was one of the best things that ever happened to me. You know if you didn’t count leaving everything and everyone I knew behind and the crushing abandonment and self confidence issue I’d developed since.

Right now, the last thing I needed were words of encouragement. I didn't need someone to tell me that I could push through this, or try to give me helpful advice. I needed tofeel. To sit with my thoughts and emotions and try to figure out the person I was right now before I could pour another part of myself onto the canvas.

I reached out for the door handle and froze with the cool metal clasped against my palm. Closing my eyes, I counted to ten and then swung open the door and stepped inside. The smell of dusty paper hit me, and I sighed. It should have had the lingering smell of oil paint. The slight caustic edge of solvent that would make me immediately open the window, no matter what the weather was like outside.

But it didn't.

Because even though I'd had this secret studio space for nearly two months now, I hadn't opened a single tube of paint.

I quietly closed the door and looked around at the space I'd made for myself. It was cozy enough. I had my easel set up where the light was just perfect. My favorite stool sat in front of it next to a taboret that was filled with all the art supplies I loved so much. It hadn't been easy sneaking this out of the barn that Delaney had let me store my things in. But I needed this place. It was the quiet in the storm. The solitude I needed to be able to hear that whisper that filled my mind when I started to paint. Or at least it was supposed to be.

The rest of the studio was pretty bare. Some empty canvases leaned against the wall, waiting to become what they werealways supposed to be. I just didn't know if I was the person who could do that anymore.

And that was when the same thought I had everyday came to me.

What if I didn't have it in me anymore?

What if the moment I finally got a gallery to take me seriously enough to host me a show, the spark of creativity that I'd nurtured since I was a child was finally snuffed out?

I hadn't even had the time to reach my peak. I sold some paintings. I'd finally started to make enough money to support myself, and my savings account had enough to sustain me while I chased my dream. And now it was over. Or at least it felt like it was.

I sat down on my stool, my shoulders sagging in defeat as I stared at the blank canvas. My hand automatically reached for a brush, and then, just like always, I froze. That one strand of hair found its way between my fingertips again, twirling in an anxious rhythm that matched my racing thoughts.

There was nothing else bubbling inside me.

And just like always, I let the tears flow and mourned the end of the only thing I'd ever wanted to do with my life.

Chapter 2

Xander

"If you want to build somewhere else, you can," Booker said.

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