Page 16 of Falling Hard

“Let me do it,” I said and then quickly kissed him, silencing the argument before it started. “I know my dad, and something is off with him. It’s best I choose when to tell him.”

A brief emotion flashed over Maiden’s face, which I swore it was guilt, but what would he have to feel guilty about? I frowned, questioning whether I had read the emotion right or not. But then I knew Maiden wouldn’t keep something important from m because we had a relationship and friendship built on trust. I was always honest with him, and he had always been honest with me in return.

* * *

I walkedinto the garage and headed for the paint cans. I was in a good mood today, and that rarely happened. I was grabbing paint cans when I heard movement behind me.

“Do I even want to know?”

I flung around, trying to balance three paint tins. Guiltily, I looked at Maiden, who was getting up from where he had been working on his bike, and I hadn’t even picked him. “Um, I’m doing nothing.”

“Sure you aren’t.” He crossed his arms, giving me a look of amusement. He had grease on his white top and across his cheek, and he pointed a spanner at me. “Spill it, Emmie, or I’ll use my magic powers.”

Immediately, I blushed but thought I would play along. “I highly doubt you’ll be using those powers in public.”

“Don’t bet on that. I’m tempted to strip you here.” He walked toward me. “Always wanted to try body painting, and your body”—he gripped my hips—“would be the perfect canvas.” He blew in my ear. “Come on, sweetheart, you know you want to be naked with my hands all over.” He ran his hand down my side. “After the other night, you know how good I can make you feel.” His fingers spread across my breasts, and he groaned just a little when he discovered I wasn’t wearing a bra.

And I thought that was payback enough. “You can help if you want.” I nipped his bottom lip. “Paint the side of the shed that is, not me.”

“You wearing that?”

I looked down at my singlet and shorts. “Yeah, why?”

“Will you be bending over?” His voice deepened, and I looked back up at him. “In front of all the boys, you’re gonna be bending over and painting?” He took the paint cans off me. “Like fuck, I’m letting you out there unsupervised.”

I wandered around behind him and smiled to myself. He honestly thought people would be staring at me. Little did he know that no one would be interested in the purple-haired, makeup covered, and glasses-wearing girl.

I set up my design for the art masterpiece I was doing. Time passed before I knew it, and it was moments like now that I would admit demons made up ninety percent of my life, but the other ten percent was filled with moments like these. I inhaled the fresh air—being locked up in a room for a week would make you appreciate the little things—and this was the first time I was free to do as I pleased in the fresh air and not be forced to do exercise. Free to be on my own. Just me and…

“What the fuck is this?”

“Art.” I turned and gave Dad a grin. Considering Maiden got called away before he began, I could take full credit for the masterpiece on the wall.

Dad’s face was painted in shock, which I found ironic, and then it twisted in disbelief. “Painting the side of my garage isn’t considered art! It looks like a drugged-up addict took a spray can to it.”

A small smile spread across my face. “Well, when you think about it, you aren’t far off the mark.” I was teasing, but his expression told me he didn’t like the joke, so I clamped my lips shut.

He always had this thing about me joking about my medication. Because most of the drugs I was on to control my mental health were considered drugs of dependence, I referred to myself as a druggie, and he would always snap at me how it wasn’t true.

He exhaled sharply, controlling his father instinct to rage at me.

“Well, are you done ruining my garage?” he questioned, but there was a slight seriousness to his tone, causing me to be on guard.

“I haven’t done anything.” I was quick to assume he must have thought this was a sign of a relapse. “I just wanted to paint, I swear, Dad. I didn’t mean anything by it. Look, I’ll wash it off—” I was speaking gibberish quickly when he raised a hand to stop me.

“It’s not about your art, Emmie.” He glanced at it. “Though I’d love to know why out of the whole clubhouse you decided to spray-paint the good side of the garage.”

“Lightest canvas. What’s wrong?” I started to climb down the stepladder. “If it isn’t about the art, is it about what happened between me and—”

A throat clearing caused me to shut up, and I saw Maiden standing there. He slowly moved his head from side to side, telling me not to mention it. After all, I’d promised him I would, and I made him swear he wouldn’t say a word. Dad frowned and then threw a look over his shoulder at Maiden.

“Do I even want to know?” Dad looked directly at Maiden, but unlike me, Maiden had a backbone and didn’t crumble or just blurt out every detail when faced with Dad’s eyes. I swear Dad’s eyes could get me to spit out every truthful detail.

Starting to get nervous, I took a step down from the ladder, only I missed the step and fell backward, expecting to hit the concrete, but instead, I fell into two strong arms, which caught me before guiding my feet back to the ground.

My hands were on his arms, and my back was firmly against his chest. I muttered a thank you while his hands wrapped around my waist caused my blood to rush.

“Emmie, we need to talk to you.”

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