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Jacob surprised me in the suite earlier today with an easel and paints.
Now I’ve got the spread of the players on the ice below me, but all I can see is one. I sketched fast, threw down layers of paint to capture the shadows and highlights of the arena. Then I place him on it.
I barely pay attention to the score. There’s a spot for the glowing red numbers at the top of the painting, plus the team abbreviations.
“Melody!” Knox comes and drops onto the chair next to me. “Can you paint me next? I’ll pose for it.”
I glance at him, cracking a smile. “Only if you balance on one skate the whole time.”
“Done,” he says instantly. “I’ll send it to Aurora so she knows what she’s missing.”
I snort.
Still can’t believe he has a wife. A wife who wants a divorce…
That’s not going to end well.
Instead of asking him about it, though, I just keep painting.
“Do you think I’m nuts?”
I sigh and set down the paintbrush. I face him, frowning at the concern etched in his expression. “Do you care if I do?”
“Yeah. We’re friends. Right?”
“Oh. Um, yeah.”
“I tell you shit, you tell me shit. We’re close. Like, best friends.”
Oh boy. “Knox.”
“Yeah?”
“We’re—”
“Well, you can’t say no. Because Jacob’s my best friend, obviously, and Miles is my brother. And I love Greyson and Steele. But you’re the one who listens.”
He’s giving me a freaking puppy-dog look again. Big eyes that he bats at me in some attempt to manipulate the situation. But I don’t even know what he wants. And what if he wants something I can’t give him?
“Go away.” I swat at him and focus on my painting again. I like this. Painting in a high-energy place, surrounded by people. I think the adrenaline is helping—and it’s such a contrast to the sharp twist of loneliness that accompanied my other paintings.
I remember them now. The bird, the portraits. More that Henry sold overseas, without my consent. I didn’t even know he shipped them until I realized they were missing.
“Melody.”
Knox pauses.
“Mel.”
Pause.
I don’t even glance at him.
“Song—”
“If you finish that word, you’re going to get a black eye,” I warn.
He grins. “Just admit that you’re my best friend.”
