Page 126 of Inflict

“Where it belongs,” Connor said exasperated. “Children draw on the walls, Evelyn.”

What bit of anger was in her expression melted away, leaving a deep hurt in its place. A part of Connor regretted what he’d said almost instantly, but the other part of him knew it was true.

He understood that it was the same way for Evelyn, too. A large part of her was all woman—adult, grown, and a wee bit insane. But there was still a part of her that was a wee child, stuck in a time before all the terrible things had happened to her.

“That was uncalled for,” she said.

Connor scowled. “Drawing on the walls is uncalled for.”

“You’re just parroting things back to me.”

“Because I’m the one making sense, lass!”

Evelyn’s green eyes rolled upwards. “Whatever, I’m finishing the feather, and it’s staying. It’s not like it’s fucking ugly or something.”

Connor eyed the feather, silently agreeing. It was a beautiful image, even if the majority of it was only the barebones of the drawing. Mostly blacklines forming what would be before all the color was added in. She had added some color toward the top, gentle strokes of metallic color that melted with other colors, and shimmered under the kitchen pot lights. He was sure once the light came in from the morning through the windows, the color would sparkle even more.

It was amazing.

He wouldn’t deny that.

But on his kitchen wall?

Surely, they had better things to be doing and talking about other than drawing on walls?

“You can keep the feather,” Connor said heavily.

It pained him to do so.

“You didn’t have a choice.”

Feck.

“But,” he added, “no more on the walls.”

Her head turned, showing off her beautiful profile as her lips pursed. “The ceilings are okay, then. I get it.”

Connor had the strangest urge to smack himself in the face. “No.”

“We’ll see.”

“Evelyn—”

“You’re no fun,” she said rather grumpily, tossing her package of markers on the nearby table. Shooting him with another one of her glares, she headed towards the sink, grabbing a glass from the cabinet as she passed. “I thought you would like it.”

Connor didn’t know how to respond to that. “I do.”

“Then why be an ass about it?”

He chose to stay silent and think about his words as she poured a glass of water, and drank it down in her own silence. He walked forward, stopping at the kitchen island just as she set her now empty glass into the sink.

“I will buy you whatever size canvas you want,” Connor said.

“And then you’ll hang them on the walls that I could have just drawn on anyway,” she deadpanned. “Don’t you see how that’s a little ridiculous?”

“No, what’s ridiculous is you drawing on the walls.”

“Connor.”