Page 120 of Rush

“Don’t be. It’s my fault. I’m the one who messed up and lost the best person I’ve ever met and the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

My lips tremble, and a tear falls from the corner of my eye. I brush it away with my hand.

This is killing me. Just like I knew it would if I saw him again.

I don’t want to see him in pain. I love him. I hate not being with him.

And seeing him hurting is hurting me.

But I don’t know how to get past what happened. Him not trusting me.

I see his eyes go behind me.

“Is that…” He steps forward. “Is that for me?”

I nod, biting my lip.

He walks over, close to me, and his nearness overwhelms me. He smells like everything I’ve missed.

“Can I…” He looks at me, gesturing to the painting.

“Of course.”

I watch in silence as he picks it up and carefully tears the paper from the painting. He places it on the bench next to his cleats. Then, he slides his thick finger under the tape that’s holding the bubble wrap together and removes it.

He drops the bubble wrap where the disregarded paper sits. Then, he holds the painting up and stares at it.

I watch him and see his throat work on a swallow.

When he lifts his eyes to mine, the raw emotion almost brings me to my knees. Tears prick my eyes again, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop them from falling.

“You finished it?” he says softly.

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful, Ari. Really beautiful. Thank you so much for letting me have it. For bringing it here for me.”

“I…I said that you could have it when…and I wasn’t sure if you would still want it…but I promised, so…”

“No, I want it.” He stares down at it again. “It’s amazing.”

“I got a job,” I hear myself saying. “At a gallery. Working the floor. But she wants to showcase my work for me as well.”

“Ari…that’s amazing. I’m really happy for you.” And he sounds like he genuinely is.

“It was because of this painting that I got the showcase,” I tell him.

I know Moira really liked my other painting, but it was this one that really caught her eye, showing her what I’m capable of.

“I…I started painting again because of you. And I wanted to thank you for that.”

He swallows roughly. “You don’t have to thank me. It was always inside of you, Ari. I…being with me just gave you the push to do it.”

“You inspired me.”

“You inspire me every single fucking day.”

He puts the painting down, propping it against the bench, and walks close to me, making me tremble. He cups his hands around my face, tilting it back, so I’m looking up at him.