Page 17 of Reject Him

CHAPTER SEVEN

Eme curses up a storm as she attempts to carry all of her painting supplies down the stairs. She has every intention of letting go through each brushstroke she makes across a blank canvas, but it would seem her arms aren’t equipped for carrying them all at once. She should have made two trips.

Just as she’s about to turn the corner, she’s bumped into someone, and all of her supplies drop from her arms. The canvas clatters while the bottles of paint roll around at her feet.

“My God, Draven, you scared the crap out of me,” she exclaims.

“Sorry,” he says through a smirk. “I didn’t hear you.”

“That’s because I’m as stealthy as a cat.” The words drip with sarcasm. “Didn’t you hear me cursing?”

He points to his ears where earbuds are currently firmly in place. “I didn’t.”

She looks him up and down, noticing his gym shorts and shirt with the sleeves cut off. “Why are you dripping with sweat?”

“We have mandatory runs - the enforcers I mean. We don’t just run the parameter to guard our territory. We run for exercise. It wouldn’t do to have out-of-shape shifters defending our land.”

Eme hates exercise, but she was forced to do it in the Stonewell Pack. She wrinkles her nose. “Where are you headed?”

He looks around. “I was hoping to find Logan. Do you know where he is?”

She shrugs. “I saw him at breakfast but haven’t seen him since.”

“Odd.”

Hair falls into her face as she cocks her head to the side. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He scratches his chin. “Usually he runs with us.”

As if remembering her materials fell on the floor, she bends to pick them up. Draven helps her. He grabs the blank canvas and holds it up to the light. The pale color seeps through the thick material. “Painting today?”

She rights herself with her brushes and paint bottles in her hand. “I don’t know what gave that away.”

He laughs. “You’re extra prickly today. What gives?”

He isn’t wrong. Ever since the silent breakfast, she’s been on edge. She hadn’t known what to say to Logan, hadn’t known how to start a conversation after everything Val had told her. And truth be told, he hadn’t tried either. Instead, they sat in silence, and the silence was the worst part. She still doesn’t know what to make of it. Had Logan given up on her? She doesn’t know how she feels about that. A little rejected maybe. A taste of her own medicine.

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry about it.” He waves her off. “You’re still adjusting. Any wolf moving into a new territory has trouble adjusting.”

Something like that, she doesn’t say. They stand there in silence for a beat or two until, finally, she starts making her way to the kitchen where the back door leads out into the backyard. Yesterday, she had admired the view, and the view had begged to be painted.

She reaches the sliding glass doors, and with no hands left to open them, she turns to Draven.

“Here, let me help you.” He places his hand on the latch, opening the door, and a gust of wintery bite tickles the edge of her nose.

“Thank you,” she says as she steps outside. The cold raises hairs on her arms, but it’s too late to go back for a coat now. She heads toward the two easels she set outside earlier. One easel already has a blank canvas on it.

“Two canvases, huh?” he mocks.

“Oh, stop it.”

“Why two?” He sets a canvas on the remaining easel.

“I usually paint with two. One is for practice; another is for the final product.”

He puts his hands on his hips and studies the view. “That seems a bit excessive. Why not just paint what comes from the heart and be happy with it?”