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“Youdid all this for me?”
Beaunods. “Yeah,Devongot you out of the house.Somedudes came and removed the furniture and brought in the bench, becauseI’mnot risking my hands doing that shit.ButIbrought everything else up.Doyou like it?”
Hottears fill my eyes. “Ilove it.Honestly.”
Iwalk farther into the room and run my hands along the canvases.Next,Ilook over the paints.Allthe most expensive brands.Ishake my head, butI’msmiling.
Iturn back to the men. “Why?”NotthatI’mnot incredibly grateful.Ijust never expected them to do something like this.
“ItwasDevon’sidea,”Beausays with a shrug.
Mygaze jumps toDevon.He’ssmiling at me, but there’s something more there.Aflame burning behind his deep blue eyes that makes my breath catch.
“Wethought you might feel more like painting if you have somewhere dedicated to do it.”Beausticks both hands in his pockets, a confident grin spreading across his face.
Irush over and hug him first, as tight asIcan, and thenDevon, looking up into his face, hoping my expression conveys the gratefulnessI’mfeeling.
Istep back. “Thankyou both so much.Ican’t say how much this means to me.”
“Welove you,ShaeBear,”Beausays. “Wewant you to be happy.Andyou haven’t seemed all that happy lately.”
Iswallow around the lump in my throat.HowdidIever get so lucky to have these two in my life?Butin the next second, a shard of guilt slices through my chest at the wide smile onBeau’sface.Ihate keeping whatever this is betweenDevonand me from him.Itfeels so wrong.I’msure he’d be happy for us if he knew.
ThenIlook atDevon.Becauseeven though we haven’t discussed anything, even though this is new and uncertain,IthinkImight be falling hard for him.
Ionly hopeIdon’t come down to earth with a bang.
ChapterTwenty-One
Devon
Ilean backin my chair, playing a fast-descending line on myFenderwhileBeauthumps out chords on his bass.Wehad a practice session yesterday in preparation for our gig at the iHeartRadio music festival this weekend, so we’re not working on anything in particular at the moment.We’rejust hanging out and jamming in our music room.Bothof us have a beer on the table, and we’re having fun improvising.Occasionally, when something sounds good,Beauwill jot it down on his phone, but we’re not pushing ourselves.This—just relaxing with my cousin—is somethingI’vemissed recently.
Notthat havingShaearound is a bad thing.Theopposite, actually.It’sgood.Toogood.I’vebeen so focused on her for the last couple of weeks, sinceIgave in to the inevitable, thatI’veneglected the other things in lifeIlove.
EveryopportunityIget,I’mwith her.We’vespent more time withMick, who already adores her, and we’ve stolen hours alone in her bedroom whenBeau’sbeen out.Whenwe can’t be alone, we share quick, hidden touches and secret smiles, andItry to tell her with my eyes how muchIwishIcould claim her publicly.
Buthonestly, it might not be enough.Shedoesn’t understand my hesitation, but she’s going along with it anyway.Maybeshe wants this just as much asIdo.Hopefully, any feelings she might have had forBeauhave been replaced by feelings for me—though wishing for that makes me even more of an asshole.
Shefeels something, though.It’sin the way she looks at me, the way her fingers stroke over my skin, the sounds she makes whenI’minside her.ButIalso see her expression when we’re out and women come on to me.Ican’t show themI’mtaken, can’t even act likeIam.Beauwould never believeIhave a girlfriend he hadn’t met or any other reason to avoid those interactions.SoIhave to play along with it—do the bare minimumIcan to convince him nothing’s changed.Thendo everything possible to make it up toShaeas soon asIget her alone.
It'sa balancing act, and we can’t go on like this forever.Guiltis shoving at me from all sides, knocking me off balance.Ineed to figure out how to broach the subject withBeaubefore this thing implodes around me.ForallIknow, the feelings he had for her as a teenager are long gone and he won’t give a fuck that we’re together.Maybehe’ll even slap me on the back and wish me well.
Butconsidering my feelings for her haven’t dissipated over the years—have apparently only been lying dormant, ready to awaken at the slightest opportunity—I’mnot convincedBeauwon’t come out swinging.
Andfighting with him is the last thingIwant.Ican’t even contemplate losing him.Heshared everything with me growing up: his house, his mom,Shae.AndIshow my appreciation by doing something he might consider unforgivable?
Thethought of sittingShaedown and telling her that this was a mistake, that we should call it off now, before any more damage can be done, crosses my mind.ButIinstantly dismiss it.Ican’t lose her any more thanIcan loseBeau.Shemeans so much to me.Shehas done since the momentImet her.ButnowI’maddicted andIcan’t walk away.Ifucking can’t.
Beau’smind must be onShaetoo, because he reaches for his beer, takes a sip, and says, “Shaeseems happier these days.”
“She’sbeen painting more.”
Hesmiles. “Thatart room was a great idea.Ican’t believeIdidn’t think of it first.”
Ishift in my chair, even asIcontinue playing. “Itdoesn’t matter who thought of it.Justthat we got it done for her.”
Beauputs his beer back on the table and picks up the bass melody again. “Youknow she wants to paint my portrait?” he says. “I’llhave to remind her now that she’s got somewhere to do it.”
