AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Tears don't fall. They cascade around me.
I am honestly sick of them. Tiny droplets spread on the bedsheet until they all became part of this big wet blob sticking to the side of my face. Not one inch of me moves until I hear the main door to the penthouse open hours later. The night had returned. Fuck. The sound of footsteps causes me to come to a sudden halt. It's Evan; it has to be. A part of me expects it to behim.The fridge opens. Right, he left food for me. The food remained untouched by me.
The footsteps come closer to my room, then a knock.
“Isabella?” it's Evan.
“Yes?” I respond.
“Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
He gently pushes the door open. Wow, it's unreal. How did I end up here? Lying in Evan Blackburn’s guest bedroom, in his borrowed clothes, waiting to see why he wants to check in on me.
“I got your art supplies,” he says, “and not to nag, but I see you haven’t eaten,” Evan stops his sentence to put thought into how to end it, “I’m going to make dinner soon; it’d be best if you eat at least one meal,”
Immediately, my stomach churns at the thought of food.
“A couple of bites?” he asserts. He's going above and beyond with his accommodations. I don’t want to be fussy or picky.
Why can’t I give myself time to heal? It’s barely been a day.
“Okay,” I agree. If I did it for my well-being or Blackburn, I don’t know. If I do it for him and it helps me, it can’t have been too bad of a choice.
“Great. Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” he grins. A grin. With teeth peeking from behind his lips, almost a smile. At me. I am looking forward to dinner a tiny bit more. First, a shower is in order. Though I have to wear the same clothes, I will feel and appear much more refreshed and smell better than bed sweat.
I walk into the living room to find a foldable cart filled with my brushes, paints, palettes, canvases, and easel. He managed to find my aprons and the jar I use for my paint water. Among the supplies is my phone.
I don’t know if I want to pick it up. He touched it. He used it to find me. Adrian—a clever trick. Are commissions safe for me to do anymore?No.
What am I going to do? That's my only source of income; real jobs are too dangerous. Another freelance job? If I have another talent, I will have to discover it quickly.
“Is that everything?” Evan wonders. My eyes lift briefly.
“Oh, yes! You found my phone,” I smile as brightly as possible. I don’t feel bright, but I pick up my cell so I don’t appear to be avoiding it. A weird expression passes over his face.
“No problem. Dinner is ready, by the way.”
Chapter ten
Secrets and Struggles
It'squieterthanIexpected; then again, why?
Certainly, I didn’t think Evan and I would be chatting it up. What are you supposed to talk about when something like that happens? You would think our history would help; it doesn’t. We didn’t end on bad terms, but we hadn't gotten to know each other before thatonenight. The night I figured he would forget about. Now, something is bothering him. That much is apparent.
Since I certainly don’t know how to start up a conversation, I focus on trying to eat. So far, I had two spoonfuls of fish, and he is almost done with his plate.
“You don’t have to eat if you can’t. I’m glad you ate something,” he utters suddenly. Why does he have to keep saying things like that? It's hard to sit normally with his words sitting on my chest.
“Isabella,” he starts again, “I wish you hadn’t done that interview,” he sighs. Is he still caught up on that? Any person who perceives they were the cause of what happened to me would be, but he didn’t know.
“What’s done is done,” I tell him. It's simple. Nothing else can be said. Holding onto a thin thread of hope, I wish he'd let the matter rest and cease his concerns about my well-being. Soon, I’ll be on my way again.
“Yes, but…Isabella, the news, the public, they’re…” he takes a deep breath, “It’s on TV,” he conveys.
“What?”
