Page 15 of Beautiful Exile

And I have photographic proof of you letting Keely give you a makeover.

Fallon

Nope. I’ve got that one.

She sent a photo of Trace’s six-year-old daughter biting her lip in concentration as she swept gobs of blush over Kye’s cheeks. He might look like a cross between a mountain man and a tattoo god, but he was putty in his niece’s hands.

Kye

I’m letting Keels paint all over Cope’s walls with those glitter markers she loves so much.

Cope

Don’t you dare.

Rhodes

You’re just tempting him by saying that.

Cope

I’ve got Linc staying at the house. He’ll protect it from a glitter attack.

I stilled, every nerve ending in my body going live. Just reading Linc’s name sent images of him dancing through my mind: those vibrant hazel eyes pinning me to the spot with questions I could never answer, the twist of his lips when he smiled, that damn dimple.

My fingers flew across my phone’s screen.

Me

Thanks for the chaperone, by the way.

Kye

Uh-oh. You really pissed off the princess of darkness now.

Cope

Linc needed a place to stay while he looks for property in Sparrow Falls and Shep works on a house design. It was the least I could do.

I didn’t need the reminder. I was happy living in denial land. The thought of Lincstayingwithin a two-minute walk from my house?Movingto Sparrow Falls, even part-time?Nope. Nope. Nope.

Me

I’m helping Keely douse your walls in glitter. You deserve it.

I flipped the notifications on the chat back toDo Not Disturb,frowning at the fact that Rhodes had switched it off in the first place. More evidence that she was worried. Or maybe it was simply because she’d found happiness and healing and wanted the rest of us to, as well.

My lips twitched at the image of our sunshiniest sister ending up with the broodiest guy I could imagine—one all but allergic to color. But the grumpy ex-FBI profiler had turned out to be the one for her. And she was the one for Anson.

An uncomfortable sensation slid through me. An ache that reminded me of the growing pains that woke you up as a kid. I shookoff the feeling, placing my phone face down on the table. No more distractions.

I stepped back, trying to take in the canvas with fresh eyes. Something about itstillwasn’t working. Over the years, I’d found that the painting would never come together if I didn’t get the first broad strokes right. But that didn’t mean all was lost. Not yet.

The canvas had paint in some areas, and pencil marks that were supposed to be my map in others. I tried to erase the sketch lines in my mind and let go of the plan I had to see the endless possibilities. The spark of something lit. It was just an ember of an idea, but I gently blew on it, letting it grab hold.

I quickly moved to my paints, my fingers flying over the rows of options before stopping on perylene red. It was a deep cherry red. Not a color I used often, but exactly what I needed today. I crossed to my palette and pressed some out of the tube.

As the music and my vision took hold, I lost myself in creation. First, in the darker colors I’d started with—the purples, greens, and blues. Instead of trees, I painted thorny brambles, a tangle you’d never be able to escape.

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