Page 48 of Reaper Razed

Pushing through the door of this quaint little shop, I stagger to a stop and just stand there with my mouth open, gazing around at the most beautiful selection of art supplies ever.

My eyes tear up, and the next thing I know, Tank is in front of me, cupping my face in his hands. “Hey? You okay?”

I just nod.

“What's wrong?”

I shake my head, and he grabs my hand to drag me out of the shop. “No, please… I’m fine… it’s just I’ve never been anywhere like this. I’ve never had any art stuff. I went to a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese once and stole the crayons so I could draw. I used to colour on the inside of cereal packs.” I have no idea what made me blurt that out. He’s wiping my tears away with his massive thumbs so delicately, like he thinks I will break.

“Then let’s change that.” He smiles down at me. “Grab whatever you want.”

I smile at him, and he smiles back. He still has hold of me, and it could just be the two of us, and I know it’s my hormones screwing with me, but at this moment, I think I’m falling in love. I’m not sure as I’ve never been in love before. I never really had a chance to, but right now, I feel my heart is handing itself over to him whether he wants it or not.

“Come on.” He pulls me further into the store. “Where do you wanna start?”

I hang my head in embarrassment; my heart is pounding in my chest, and I’m so overwhelmed by his generous offer that I’m taken aback before I can think about it too much. He's dragging me over to the counter. He grabs a basket from the woman behind and gives me a shove. “Whatever you want.” He nods.

I grab watercolour paints, paper, charcoal, pastels, a sketchbook, some paintbrushes, and crayons. When I head back to the counter, Tank frowns at me. “Is that it?”

I look into my basket and back at him and nod! He glares at me and snatches the basket off me. He glances around the shop before grabbing acrylic paints, different sets of brushes for the different paints, another pack of charcoals and pastels, and some better paper for the different types of paints I’ve got. He grabs a large case to store everything in and an easel, along with some rubbers and pencil sharpeners, rulers, and a few different pencil cases for the pastels, charcoals and crayons. Looking around, he grabs some beginner guides to the different mediums. He’s like a whirlwind, and then he stops and taps his lips with his finger. “Hmmm, I’m missing something?”

“Tank, I think you’ve put the entire shop in that basket. I can’t accept all that! It’s too much.”

“Pftt!” he spits out as he’s spinning again, then he grabs a smock, a table covering, a stool that goes with the easel, a paint pallet, a set of knives, and oil paints, then the paper for that too!

“Tank! Stop!” I breathe out. “Please, that’s too much.”

“Okay, we can always come back if we need anything else, right?”

“Sure! What about what you need.”

“We could just share yours. Maybe we could go for a walk and take it with us when we get back.” He grins at me; he’s like a kid in a candy shop, and I’ve never seen him this excited.

I lean up and give him a chaste kiss on his cheek as I whisper, “Thank you, Tank!”

After spending a small fortune, we head back. I must have fallen asleep in the truck as I have that feeling of weightlessness again, and as my eyes loll open, Tank says, “Shhh, love, sleep.” He kisses my forehead as he carries me upstairs to the apartment.

When I wake up, I’m on the sofa wrapped up in the blanket. I’m a little disoriented as I sit up.

“Hey, you okay? You coming down with something?”

I glance around as Tank comes from the kitchen with a glass of water for me. “I’m good, just tired, I think!” God, these hormones are kicking my ass today.

“I’ve put some food in the oven, and then you can have an early night. Hopefully, you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Can we go paint then?”

“Sure we can.”

After we eat, I go straight to bed. I can't keep my eyes open.

Tank

It’s the middle of the night, and I’m woken by whimpering. I automatically think it’s the dog, but it gets quieter as I walk to the living room. I turn back and head towards Skye’s door, pressing my ear against it. I can hear her crying.

“Skye? You okay?” Nothing. “Skye?” Nothing. “Skye, it’s me, Tank. I’m coming in, okay?” As I walk through the door, she’s curled up on the bed, clutching her stomach. I gently touch her shoulder. She’s wet through. I touch her head. She’s sweating and grimacing.

“It hurts.” She grasps at her stomach.

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