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I leaned back on the grass and Dexter turned to look at me.
“You should probably get inside,” he said. “You’re not wearing much and it’s wet out here.”
This was where we were. I was in my bra and Dexter was telling me to go away. I sighed and sat back up.
He stood and reached out for me, helping me up. “You’re going to freak Dylan out if he sees you like that.”
Not Dylan. Maybe Theo.
Without another word, he removed his suit jacket and placed it over my bare skin as it began to rain again. We couldn’t time us. But he could time the rain. He kissed my forehead and nudged me toward the house.
When I looked back, he was already walking toward his car. “Goodnight, Dexter,” I whispered. I lifted my chin, my eyes looking for that bright star again.
But I couldn’t find it.
There was a silent suffering I carried with me everywhere. I kept it so quiet, it rattled my bones. It made my teeth chatter with its need to be let out, to rip away from my lips and wrap around the stars. Like an engine grumbling as it gained speed. All the while, I kept it quiet.
If it were ever let out, the sound would be deafening.
But the sound of Dexter’s car backing out of my driveway nearly broke me open.
* * *
It was two o’clock in the morning and I was nowhere nearer to sleep than when I first lay down, so I donned my robe and headed up to the attic. When I bought this house, I knew I’d need a place in this house to paint. A place far enough away that I could work in peace but close enough that I could be there if Dylan needed me. I couldn’t disappear into my art anymore, so the attic had to do.
As I gathered my favorite brushes together, I prepared myself to repent for my sins; to cut my marginally healed wounds and bleed my blue freely.
I’d only chosen the colors I’d be using, loving the way the paint stained my skin when I opened the bottle, but I could feel the tears forming.
As I spread color, I thought back to when I re-entered the house that night and Theo had frowned, asking me what was wrong with me. He eyed the jacket that covered me, and his mild annoyance turned to anger.
I apologized, explaining—lying—that I’d felt sick and needed fresh air. That I ran into Dexter on my way back in, and as the lies forced their way past my lips, the doctor in Theo started asking questions and I walked away, feigning a headache. I let him dote on me and kiss me goodnight. Though he had been sleeping peacefully beside me, on my side of the bed there was no peace.
Would there ever be peace?
You’ll find your end at the bottom of a drinking glass.
I knew there was a bottle of brandy downstairs. It was in the room Theo often called his office.
If I only took a sip…just one…
I shook my head and stepped back as I heard the creaking sound of someone walking up the steps to the attic. I turned to see a fully dressed Theo come in, my cell phone in his hand.
“Feeling better?” he asked as he walked over to me and kissed my forehead.
My eyes studied his neatly tied tie and I nodded.
He handed me my phone. “It’s Tracey.”
“What time is it?” I asked, my voice raspy under the emotions I’d quickly shoved down. I cleared my throat as he told me it was seven in the morning.
It was then that I looked in his eyes and saw he was looking at my painting. I wanted to turn it away from his questioning gaze, because what he was looking at told him more about me than I could ever put into words. But as I grabbed my phone, I figured he’d had enoughcrazylast night.
“Miranda will be happy you’re working again,” he said.
I smiled and pressed the phone to my chest as I asked him if Dylan was up.
He shook his head and then walked out, most likely to get the coffeemaker ready.
