Page 21 of Doors & Windows
Liam was older now. His life was very different than it had been then. It was important to remember that.
There was a certain confidence that strengthened with age, and even more so after Liam had spent the better part of this year proving to himself all the ways he was more capable than he believed. He had worked hard and gotten into an art program in his dream city. He had stood up to the people who had been masquerading as his friends for years too long. He had saved up enough money to land on his feet in New York, landed a paid artistic gig in the first month, and nurtured a relationship that was real and meaningful and good.
He wasn’t that lonely kid anymore. There was no one here waiting in the wings to hurl something cruel in his direction at the first show of weakness. There was only him and Jonah and this peaceful morning on the Long Island shoreline, in an empty house that was theirs for the day.
Liam breathed in the ocean air that breezed through the open window, listening to the comforting sound of movement from a few rooms away, the muffled chatter of an audiobook playing aloud. He picked up his phone, already attached to the speaker he’d packed. Careful to keep the volume low enough that he wouldn’t disturb Jonah’s book, he queued up the playlist he had put together for the occasion the night before. Title:The Baby Birds.
He picked up the brush.
CHAPTER 8
Jonah
The reprieve of the September morning chill didn’t last long. As Jonah worked, the sunlight and the breeze off the water brought with it a salt-sticky heat. By the time his stomach growled in demand for lunch, his shirt clung to skin with sweat. The repeated stretch and pull of a paint roller across a house this size, with its high ceilings and long corridors, was hard work, but it left a satisfying burn in his arms and back.
He had managed to finish most of the upstairs rooms. The only one left to tackle was the nursery. It had taken some restraint on his part to steer clear of Liam’s space and give him solitude to work, but bringing him lunch seemed like as good an excuse as any to take a peek.
Jonah grabbed the cooler he had packed this morning and headed toward the sound of music, smiling as he drew closer. When he reached the doorway of the nursery, the sight before him stunned him in place.
He wasn’t sure which was more breathtaking—the half-finished depiction of a sunrise on the wall, or the sight of Liam so completely immersed in his element. Both. Either. Jonah was frozen in place, mesmerized.
Liam moved like a dancer when he painted. Like he was born with something in his body that drew him to this work inevitably. His movements fell in sync with the music, a Beatles song Jonah recognized from the radio stations Ellis liked to play in his truck.
And the singing. Liam wassinging.
The sound was a revelation. Jonah wondered if Liam even realized he was doing it or if it was a byproduct of being so enthralled in his work that he forfeited any self-consciousness.
He could have watched him forever, but the scuff of Jonah’s boot betrayed his arrival. Liam yelped and spun to face him, nearly kicking over a tray of mixed paint at his feet.
Jonah was already raising his hands in apology. “Sorry,” he said, though he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“F-minuson execution.” Liam clutched his chest with the hand that wasn’t holding a paintbrush. “How long have you been standing there?”
It took Jonah a moment to find words, because Liam’s face was streaked with stray swipes of paint, dappling the space between his freckles with pink, and Jonah suddenly, desperately wanted nothing more than to see that color smear beneath the pads of his thumbs.
“Only a minute,” Jonah said.
Liam’s face was already red from the heat, which robbed Jonah of an opportunity to see him flush. “Okay, weirdo.” He played it off smoothly, folding into a mix of a curtsy and a bow. “Enjoy the performance?”
“Very much.” Jonah's reply came out helplessly earnest, so he redirected their attention to the mural. “Liam, this is…” Every compliment fell short on his tongue. “You’re so good at this.”
Liam’s nervous tells were charmingly predictable; the dropped gaze, the way he busied his hand with squeezing the excess paint from his brush. “It’s not really anything yet. Just color and outline.”
Jonah stepped further into the room, coming to a stop beside him to get a better look at the wall. “It’s weird to think that you’re painting this for people who haven’t even been born,” he said. “Like, these babies will grow up and probably never meet you, but they’ll spend the first years of their life against the backdrop of something you created.”
Liam’s eyes went wide, his cheeks rounding with a puff of air that he let out in a long whistle. “Wow. Okay. No pressure or anything.”
Jonah laughed and shifted closer, letting his shoulder bump against Liam’s. “You’re doing great,” he promised. “It’s going to be perfect. It already is.”
Liam bumped him back, his knuckles brushing against Jonah’s. “Well, thanks.”
The moment went soft between them, in the way it tended to do with Liam. Jonah drew in a breath and cleared his throat, stepping back. He shook the cooler in his hand.
“Lunch break?”
“You made lunch for us?”
“It’s nothing too exciting.” Jonah rubbed the back of his neck. It was his turn to be self-conscious.
