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As long as that’s happening, everything else is irrelevant.
Even when we’re both breathing normally again, Beck doesn’t stop hugging me. Not that I’m exactly yearning to be free.
“When I watch you paint… it’s so incredible. You have such talent.” He looks at the wall and gestures at the half-finished mural. “Also, I like carnivals.”
“Everybody likes carnivals.”
But I’m smiling at the praise as heat flushes through me again. Not because he doesn’t say nice things; he does. And not because I don’t expect him to say nice things; I do.
But because it feels like a part of himself he wouldn’t have shared with me just a little while ago.
It’s a reminder of how far we’ve come.
He points at a shadow I painted into the mural. “It’s the detail. Like the tiny skates you painted in that painting, the way they had a reflection of the jersey in the blade. You notice things no one else does.” He fixes me with his solemn gaze. “Even in me. You saw things in me I didn’t see in myself. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much that means to me, Sloan.”
I shiver. I like that he notices me noticing. But I can’t help but wonder… what happens if he noticestoomuch? Like when he notices the secrets I’m still keeping? The fears I’m still hiding?
What happens then?
For now, that isn’t happening. When I fall asleep next to him after we shower together, he holds me all night. I like that, too. Probably too much.
But there isn’t anything I can do about it. The more I know about him, the more I come to like.
So for tonight, I’m not going to think about tomorrow, or what’s going to happen beyond then. I have a payment due to the Bloodhound and I should be trying to figure out the best way to make it happen. A way that he can’t complain or try to force his will on me and a way that Beck won’t suspect anything when he can’t find me for the five minutes the transaction will require.
It’s become a lot riskier to break away since the security detail has amped up their protection. The only place I’m ever alone is in this house, or when I’m out and headed to a bathroom.
Just like that, the idea comes to me. A way through this mess.
With that in mind, sleep comes soon afterward.
When I wake up, I still have a plan and I think it will work. But I need to lay the groundwork starting now. I can’t act like anything is off.
Beck is standing at the counter in the kitchen, watching the coffee drip into his cup. He’s still tired, but he has a full day of practices and team meetings. They’re gearing up for the All-Star break and the upcoming road trip before it. They have film to watch, plays to practice, and plans to offset the firing-on-all-cylinders offense of this year’s dangerous-looking Dallas Bulls.
Because coffee is on my no-no list, I pull a bottle of water from the fridge and walk behind him to the cabinet where the glasses reside. The whole way, I’m gassing myself up in my head.
You’re casual. You’re cool. You’re nonchalant. You can do this.
“This” meaning that I can be a liar even though I don’t want to lie to him.
Neither do I want to lose him.
But some sins are necessary.
“I’m going to stop at the diner and see Monroe today.” I’m not even sure he’s listening. “Beck, did you hear me?”
He looks up from his coffee mug. “Yeah. Just make sure you take the security with you.”
I nod. I will definitely have my security detail with me—at least until I can sneak out past them. Hopefully, I’ll be back before they notice me missing, but it’s a chance I’ll have to take. I don’t see another way forward.
He gives me the usual kiss and wave when he leaves. I wait until the car is out of the gate before I get ready to go. I don’t have a specific time to meet the Bloodhound, but I have to make this day seem as normal as possible.
So I dress in my job-hunting suit. Not that it’s lucky or particularly attractive, but I can’t deviate. That would draw attention, and attention is the last thing I need today.
The first three places I apply to schedule interviews in the next few days. I am well aware that I can go back to the diner if I want to, but what I really want is something in the art world. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m applying at galleries, a museum, a supply shop—I can always use a discount—and a school.
It’s late afternoon before I finally head to the diner. When I check the rearview, my detail is behind me, close enough that I can see the reflection in his sunglasses.
