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I set my phone down and get back to my computer. With the haze from my mind lifted, the clarity I needed was right in front of me, staring me straight in the face.
I can’t seem to look away from the photo, so I decide to have it printed while an idea starts to manifest. It’s one of the only things that really brought me hope while Evie was gone. When I looked at it, I remembered everything she told me that night.
“I’m not afraid of you, and I never plan to let you be in a position of power over me. If we aren’t all equals, then there is no us.”
A smile touches my lips, the first one in what feels like a long damn time. She was so strong in that moment, sofierce. I knew then she was my queen, and a woman of royalty deserves better than her man pouting and moping. She deserves warriors at her side. She deserves Kings.
I get to work ordering all the things I need when another idea pops into my head. Grinning, I think of all the ways we can make this place that was once a safe haven for us, a home to bring our girl back to.
Hours later, my room is full of supplies and a very special art piece I know just what I’m going to do with. But first, I have to figure my head out. Opening each box and laying out the contents exactly as I want them. I may have decided who I want to be, but there will be work to get there.
I place a tarp in the corner of my room and sit on a stool in front of the fresh blank canvas. My fingers tremble as I pick up the first brush, but I don’t let it discourage me.
Painting was once my lifeline. I need to learn how to find it again.
Starting slowly, I take time to figure out my new brushes, how they move with me, and where they are too stiff. Then, I play with the colors, mixing a few and blending until things start to really take shape.
That’s when it starts to come back to me. The feeling of full relaxation as I sit on this stool and create, but even better, the noise in my head finally just stops. All of my fears and anxieties are sitting on the sidelines just waiting for me to call the shots instead of rushing the court.
I take a deep breath in and I feel it travel all the way to my toes. My brush begins to fly across the canvas as if it has a mind of its own and I am just the vessel wielding the tool. I lean into it, pouring every ounce of creativity and emotion onto the blank slate with ease and comfort.
When I step back, I’m covered in paint, but I feel better than I have in weeks. I know just what I need to do.
Evie brings us balance, but I’m the one that brings us together. I need to become that man again.
???
Once I’ve gotten myself cleaned up, I shoot Damien a text to tell him what I had been up to. He came to my room right away. He also told me about what happened on the call with Evie. A spark of hope ignites in my chest at the news. Knowing she can talk to Damien is great, but I still can’t seem to form a word.
I try multiple times while Damien and I drive to Boris’ estate but nothing comes. By the time we arrive, I’m frustrated and ready to pull my hair out, but Damien just leans over the console and kisses me.
When I raise an eyebrow in question, he grins. “You might not be able to talk, babe. But I know when you’re freaking out.”
I give him a half smile. It’s insane how he makes me feel, and I want to fall into him right here in this car. It’s been too damn long. Too bad Boris comes to the window a moment later.
Damien opens the door and they talk while I follow behind. I’m working up the nerve to even be here. But I requested this meeting, I need to push through and get over it.
“Are you sure about this?” Boris asks me, then looks to Damien.
“He’s sure.” Damien takes my hand in his and I thread our fingers together.
Boris tosses me a key, and when we arrive at the final door in the basement, I stick it in the lock and hold my breath.
“Lev?” my father’s voice questions.
I don’t answer him because I can’t. I wrote down everything I wanted to say to him. Years of pent up frustration and hurt littered onto paper for him to see, if he even cares to read it all.
Damien walks in behind me as I approach the cell, the cold metal bar brushing my fingers as I slide the envelope to him. Trembling, dirty fingers meet mine, and I pull back the second the paper is in his hands.
“What’s this?” Ivan questions.
“That’s everything Lev wants to say to you but can’t,” Damien responds for me.
My father nods, looking down at the envelope. His face is bruised. It’s clear he’s taken a few beatings over the past three days, but he doesn’t look even half as bad as Evie did when we got her. Just for that reason alone, I’d say we’ve been pretty damn merciful here.
“Why are you with him, Damien? He could have just brought this to me on his own.”
I already told my father everything about the people I love. In fact, writing it down seemed to validate everything I was feeling. It’s one thing to hold Damien’s hand or sleep next to him and Evie, it’s another to put it in writing.
