Page 95 of Off the Rails

I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped into the second studio space.

“Holy shit.” My jaw dropped.

As if I hadn’t seen what was plastered to every surface in the room, Nash started speaking, “I couldn’t show you this until you knew who we were. But I wanted to. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest.”

Everywhere I looked there were pictures of my face. Some of them were of me the last time Nash would have seen me. But through the years, Nash aged me up. She’d used her talents to picture me as I grew up.

Dozens of portraits were strewn across the studio. Some were complete, shaded and painted. But others were half drawn, like the mere memory of me had made her stop in her tracks.

Stopping at a butcher block worktable, I spread out a few pieces. She hadn’t been far off of how my face ended up looking. A few of the earlier sketches — the incomplete ones — were abandoned halfway, replaced by clearer visions of my adult face.

“I was waiting for you. All these years, all I wanted was to see your face again.” Standing at the center of the studio, Nash clasped her hands together.

I couldn’t look away from the art spread out in front of me.

Until my eyes caught on a long metal rod, a wide, flat piece attached to its end.

Walking around the table, I took a look. The embossed design of three swords stabbing a heart was undeniably familiar to me.

I let my fingers touch the rough metal. Their brand.

How had they made this here of all places?

My eyes went back to the finished paintings, catching on the backgrounds now. Some of them were regular settings. But some were mystic depictions of the swords and heart.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Nash rubbed her brow, wiping sweat before words kept falling from her lips. “I saw you in my dreams. When I couldn’t sleep, I’d come here and paint you.”

Looking over my shoulder at her, I swallowed hard. “You knew it was me?”

Nash shrugged. “I couldn’t know. Call it an instinct. The second you walked into the park, I knew something was different about you.”

My chest was tight, my heart racing against my sternum, threatening to break the bones if they constricted any tighter.

They didn’t forget me.

And despite Cyrus’ rage, it was clear that Nash had no intention of hurting me. If she did, she wouldn’t have bothered to reveal her obsession.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness.” Nash shook her head as she crossed the studio and closed the distance between us. “But you need to know that I never stopped dreaming of finding you, Tess.”

Standing in front of her, looking up into her magnetizing eyes, I bit my lip. “At least you know better than to ask for absolution.”

My trust wasn’t easily won. Especially once it was lost.

“But it’s a start.” I couldn’t help the smile that played on my lips.

And clearly, neither could Nash. “Good, Sweet Lamb.”

Pushing into her chest, I put some space between us — afraid of what I might let her do if I didn’t cut the tension that built in the room.

Despite the show I was putting on, I could tell from the tug in my chest that my Freaks might just be able to pull themselves out of the hole of lies they’d dug.

I would just have to stick around to see it.

54

CYRUS

“And at tonight’s recoupling ceremony, things… get… heated…” The host’s voice boomed out from my bedroom TV, underscored by crackling flames and a high-pitched droning.