Page 118 of Raw Notes, Rough Nights

“Actually, it’s a painting of you.”

Theo stiffened. “Can… can I see it?”

Crunch time.

I nodded. “Come over here. The light is better.”

Theo got up from his chair, walked over to the window, and stood beside me.

His breath caught.

“Why would you paint me like that?”

I blinked. As compositions went, it was innocuous—Theo mid-conduction, his hand raised, his mouth open on a silent note, his eyes alive, his face unguarded.

It was raw, beautiful.

It was Theo.

My pulse spiked. “Because that’s how you look when you’re with the group. When you’re doing what you love.”

Theo’s jaw tightened. “No. That’s how I look whenyousee me.” His voice cracked.

“It’s me. All of me. And I didn’t ask for that.”

His words felt like a physical blow.

“I didn’t show anything bad,” I said in a low voice. “I showed something beautiful.”

Theo swallowed. “I think that’s worse. Because I don’t know how to be that person.”

My throat closed. I took a breath. “Yes, you do. This is the man who played Monopoly with me. Who took chances.You, Theo.”

Theo walked away, his body stiff, and in a flood of awareness, I saw the truth.

He wasn’t angry—he was terrified of being seen.

What scares him is being loved in a way he doesn’t feel he deserves.

I clenched my fists.

Luka sure did a number on you, didn’t he?

I hoped wherever that bastard was, he was in a lot of pain.

Theo

My skin felt flayed, every nerve exposed. I forced myself to take even breaths.

The painting wasn’t the problem. It was the fact that Cameron had seen me, truly seen me—and still wanted me. That level of intimacy?

It felt as though I was falling without a net.

I glanced at him, expecting to see hurt in those eyes.

All I saw was warmth.

Christ, I was shaking.