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I’m too overcome with raw emotions I don’t understand to speak, so I just point toward the door. The last of her smile slips off her face.
“Get out,” I finally manage in a mangled whisper. She shakes her head, and I stalk across the studio, then throw the door open. “Now, Wren. Go.”
With tears welling in her eyes, she hurries past me and out into the garden. She turns to look back at me, a tortured look on her face, but I pretend I don’t see it as I lock myself into my studio. I did see it, though—a look of pain so deep that it nearly crushes my heart just thinking about it. I find my hammer and go to smash the offending work; it’s ruled my life long enough, with all confusion, sadness, and longing it’s let fester within me for weeks.
At the last moment I stop as my gaze catches on the open space between the limbs of whatever this creation wanted to be. That’s when I see it in my mind’s eye. The last piece of the puzzle, the true shape of something that I thought would never be able to render, has been in front of me all along.
With Wren’s delicate scent still on my skin, I sink to the floor, breathless, and stare up at the sculpture. Like a supplicant before a god, I reach up and run my fingers along the delicate, half-formed lines of its surface. Finally, I can clearly see what I want this—no, need—this piece to be.
Chapter 7
Wren
I feel like my insides have been ripped out and tossed away.
My phone has been my enemy since I received a text from Freddy the evening Pierce threw me out of his studio a second time. Freddy had messaged me, telling me to take a few days off, all while assuring me everything was fine. I could barely read it through the tears that had refused to stop since I’d gotten in my car. The fact he thought everything might blow told me Pierce hadn’t told him what’d actually happened. Even if I wasn’t fired, I could never return to Pierce’s studio, not after the way he’d treated me.
I’d thought what we’d shared had meant something. I guess not. One small mistake on my part should mean I get treated like this. It was just an unfinished statue, but then, I guess it wasn’t. Looks like his ego was always going to be more important than me.
It’s been three days without another word. Sometimes, I think those magical moments with Pierce were all just a dream. It’s like trying to move a semi-truck with my bare hands trying to keep myself positive and focused. Trying to pretend I don’t have a broken heart. It’s foolish because, while I’d never change what happened between Pierce and me, how can my heart be this broken after the short time we had together?
Messages from Maci are few and far between, each one sparse on information, just letting me know how busy she is, how she’s keeping up with her studies, and not to worry about her. I don’t want her to worry about me, either, so I just keep trying to read and do sketches of pieces I want to try making when I’ve got the time. I don’t know when I’ll have the time, but I can worry about that when I’m over this heartbreak
I’m scribbling away at a half-assed statue sketch when my phone rings. It might be Maci, and I’d do anything to be able to talk to her at this point, so I snap my phone up instantly. Instead, I see that it’s an unknown number. It’s probably a robot trying to sell me some new car insurance or something, but I could use the distraction, so I accept the call.
“Hello?”
“Wren?”
I suck in a breath, unable to say anything at first. It’s Pierce, and his voice is little more than a ragged croak. Despite my anger and grief, worry shoots through me.
“Pierce? Are you okay?”
His sigh eases across the phone to my ear, and I shiver, remembering his every touch. “I need you. Come to the studio.”
Before I can ask why, he ends the call. I scroll through my messages, wondering if I missed something from Freddy telling me to get back to work, but there’s nothing.
What do I do? Put myself at risk for fresh heartbreak? Do I take the chance on going back, even if it’s just a chance to work with him again? Do I tell him that I think my feelings are more than just some crush?
I take a deep breath, and wonder what Maci would tell me to do. She’s always been the more dynamic between the two of us, more outgoing and willing to take risks. She’d tell me to follow my gut, and my gut says I should go.
I scroll to my last, vague message from Maci, and my fingers start flying as I write her a text.
I’m about to do something that’s probably stupid, but you always say to trust my gut, so that’s what I’m doing. I miss you, hope you’re doing okay!
Certain that she’ll be in a class right now, I don’t wait for an answer and don’t bother changing out of loungy leggings and hoodie. I need to do this before my confidence deserts me. I’m going to give Pierce Maxwell a piece of my mind. When we parted, he hadn’t given me a chance to say anything, but I’m going to make him listen now. He may laugh in my face, but at least I’ll have told him my true feelings. I’m in love with the intensely attractive, super-talented grump. There’s simply no denying it. And while I’m still angry, I know I’ll regret it forever if I don’t tell him.
When I reach the cottage studio, my hands are shaking as I ring the doorbell. Shockingly, Pierce opens the door before the chime even finishes and pulls me inside. There are dark circles under his eyes and clay smeared on his skin and clothes. His strong jaw has several days of scruffy growth and his hair juts out in all directions. My first instinct is to wrap him in my arms and hug him, but he drags me to the middle of his studio, where the covered statue that ruined everything waits, once again covered with the tarp.
It isn’t the statue or Pierce’s rough appearance that makes me to gasp, though. It’s the sunlight streaming in from the windows. I spin in a circle and look around the studio. It looks like a totally different place. Instead of cave-like darkness, the large room is bright and airy now. It’s still a little messy, but letting in some light has completely changed the space. He’s even opened them to let in fresh air. I turn to look at him.
“You opened the windows,” I say dumbly.
“Without you here, it felt too dark,” he says as he shifts between his feet listlessly. “Letting in the sun made me feel closer to you somehow.”
I sigh, wanting so badly to melt at his words, but I still feel unable to trust them. “Why am I here, Pierce?”
