Page 35 of Sinful Skulls
He tips his head, thinking about it.
“It’s not a crime to voluntarily disappear, you know,” I say, sitting up straight on his lap.
Brody brushes his thumb over my cheek as he looks me in the eye. “You’re not cruel. You can’t disappear from them forever. If you need a break, okay, but eventually you’re going to have to face your parents.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I … I just … I have some things to work through, Brody. I’ll be safe. I promise.”
He sets me on the bed and begins to clean up the mess we left on the table. “If you’re going to do this, I’m doing it with you.”
“Brody, I couldn’t …”
The look he gives makes my words drift into the ether, and before I can grasp them, they’re gone.
“Pack your stuff. I know a place nearby we can go.”
I stare at him. Maybe Brody is the person who can help me explore the side of me I’ve been afraid to look at.
When he sees I haven’t moved, he walks over and braces an arm on each side of me. “Listen, I want to do this with you.”
“But don’t you have to work?”
He laughs. “I work for the club, and they’ll give me the time I need. Don’t worry about my finances. I’m good.”
Brody pulls me from the bed with a gentle swat on the bottom to get me moving.
I guess we’re doing this.
I’m running away with a biker.
Chapter Fourteen
Brody
She watches the scenery pass outside her window, but she’s a million miles away.
“So, when you say if they would have told you, you might have understood yourself better, what exactly does that mean?”
Her shoulders climb to her ears. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“I’m just different.”
“The opposite of a daisy,” I say, remembering our earliest conversation.
She smiles shyly, and her shoulders fall. “My parents were so good to me. They were the most optimistic and driven people I’ve ever known. I can’t think of a time they ever did the wrong thing.” She shakes her head. “They nurtured me with love, but … I don’t know, I never felt like I could live up to their standards. My eyes saw things they didn’t seem to notice.”
“You mean the darker parts of life?”
The way she sighs breaks my heart. The sadness in her eyes tells me this has been weighing on her for a long time.
“This.” She waves her hand over her body. “I look normal on the outside, but inside, there’s … I don’t know how to describe it. There’s a longing. A melancholy that’s yearning to be seen, but I don’t know how to show anyone. It’s … it’s strange.”
“Can you paint it for me?” I ask.
Her head snaps in my direction, the pulse at her neck beating quickly beneath her tanned skin. “I don’t know,” she whispers.
I don’t believe her. She’s holding back from me. “I want you to look up the nearest art store and start making a list of everything you’ll need.”
