Page 58 of Selling Innocence

“Have you ever seen Vance without his gloves?” I asked before I could think better of it. He probably didn’t want others to know, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Especially because I got the sense he wouldn’t say anything to me. So far, he’d avoided me. After his shower, he’d snuck out of the house so fast I hadn’t caught a glimpse of him.

Hell, I wasn’t even entirely sure he’d come back at all. It was in the shock on his face, the way he’d pulled away and tucked that hand behind his back.

I had no idea exactly how much damage had been done or how it had happened, but the fact he hadn’t done any art in five years suddenly made sense.

He had gnarled skin over the back of his hand, and from what I could tell, he only had two fingers—his thumb and pinky finger. What appeared to be slid over the back of his and around the side was some sort of prosthetic that replaced his middle three fingers. They hadn’t moved, and the way I’d seen him grasp things or use that hand fit.

He wore the gloves to hide that, and he’d removed them because he’d been hot and drunk out of his mind. His expression showed he hadn’t intended for me to see.

Hayden remained silent for a long moment, and the quiet there told me the truth.

He knew.

If he didn’t, he’d have asked me what I meant or laughed off my question. Instead, the tension suggested he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“He showed you?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. He was drunk and took them off, but he didn’t realize it—not until he woke up.”

Hayden rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “That explains why he ran out this morning, I guess.”

“I didn’t react badly,” I rushed out. “I would never.”

Hayden set his hand on my shoulder, the touch heavy and calming. “I know. I’m not saying you did anything wrong. Vance is very careful not to let anyone see, and I’d bet you were the last person he’d want to know about it.”

“Will he come back?”

“Yeah, he will. He’s stubborn and difficult, but he’s as invested in this as anyone. He’ll finish this, no matter what.”

“How did it happen?” I asked.

Hayden shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m not one to gossip. I wouldn’t have told you anything if you hadn’t seen it yourself. If you want to know what happened, you’ll need to ask him.”

“That’s why he hasn’t come out with any new work in so long, isn’t it?” The memory of the shredded canvas came back to me, how it had been spread across the floor of his room. The anger needed to do that made a lot more sense.

I stared down at my hands and wondered how I’d feel.

Art mattered to me. It made me feel complete, and I didn’t even have a career yet. How would I react to having it taken away? To have my hands damaged in a way that made it impossible to do what I most loved?

I couldn’t blame him for his ‘I don’t give a damn’ attitude when I thought about it like that.

Hayden squeezed my shoulder, freeing me from the horrible thought. Still, I understood Vance in a way I hadn’t before.

“Come on.” Hayden moved his hand to my back and pressed me forward to get me moving.

“Where are we going?” We’d already gone to turn in my work to the professor, since I couldn’t attend classes regularly.

“Somewhere fun.”

“That didn’t go so well last time,” I pointed out, thinking about our failed field trip to the art store.

“Yes, well, this time I’m watching much more closely for tails. Trust me, Kenz, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And why was it that all it took were those few words and I immediately did trust him. The world didn’t feel nearly so scary with Hayden beside me.

And that felt more dangerous than any threat against me.

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