Chapter 45
She forced herself to keep hold of her pencil, drawing the familiar shape of her father’s eyes.
Why d
did you not choose to pursue a career as an artist Kylan asked quietly.
She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “New York is expensive, for one. For two, my father was always adamant that I choose something more practical, like a business. So, that’s what I did. She used the pad of her finger to provide shading to the background of the sketch, pulling her bottom lip subconsciously between her teeth.
“You’re uh. You know, that’s not a shit drawing. It captures his eyes well, I think.” Kylan’s voice was still quiet and a bit awkward, but she appreciated the very kylan compliment from him.
“It was nice to see him laugh. There was plenty of happiness during my childhood, he made sure of that. But I know he worries about me being in a place like New York City. And I know he’s. Well, he’s lonely. He’s out on the water by himself a lot of the time, and then when he comes back home, he’s still alone. He never… After my mom um, left. He never tried to find anyone else. She didn’t know why she was saying so much to Kylan, and part of her wanted to take it all back already. But there was also a small part of her that enjoyed the idea of opening up about her dad and her childhood with someone
“You never met her? Your mom, I mean!” Kylan asked softly.
She kept her eyes on her sketchbook, drawing out her father’s hair with a relaxed hold of her pencil “She left when I was five. My father he never really talked about her, and I haven’t asked many questions, to be honest. I don’t really remember her, just vague flashes of lullabies she used to sing to me, or books she would read to me. She was happy, my mom. She openly showed me love, I also remember that. And then one day, she was just.. Gone. My father picked me up from school and he took me out for a hamburger and milkshake, which he never did.
Her voice was becoming strained as she recalled painful memories she hadn’t thought about in years. “He tucked me into bed that night, told me he loved me and then he. He just held my hand until I fell asleep”
She forced herself to swallow, her eyes still downturned toward her sketchbook, but her fingers no longer drawing
“My mom never came back after that day. Her lips trembled as the words left her. “My father told me my mother was never fit to be a mother, and it had eventually caught up to her. He made sure I never blamed myself, but it was pretty hard not to, you know?” She laughed bitterly and shook her head, realizing just how personal she had gotten with Kylan, of all people. “I’m sorry, I ramble when I’m tired.”
She closed the sketchbook, putting it back on the nightstand, along with her phone and the pencil.
She shifted the pillows behind her and then laid down, looking aimlessly at the white bedroom ceiling
“It wasn’t your fauh,” Kylan spoke so quietly now, she almost didn’t hear him in her half–tired, half inebriated state of mind.
She turned on her side to look at him, frowning as she did. Her eyes traveled down to his chest before she could stop them, and they landed on the tanoo she had gotten a glimpse of earlier in the night. She took notice of the fact that her previous guess about wings had been correct. The tattoo, which was no more than six inches from top to bottom, was a black outline of a bird.
“What kind of bird is that?” she decided to ask him, ignoring his attempt at quelling the storm of feelings she would always have regarding her
abent mother
Kylan frowned at her, his jaw suddenly set, and his eyes narrowed. “It’s a cardinal,” he responded carefully.
She propped her head on her hand and looked at the tattoo more closely. “Why a cardinal?” she asked him curiously, unsure of what the possible symbolism for many birds was, or if he even got it for any significant reason in the first place.
Behind the slight glare of the lenses in Kylan’s glasses, she saw as his eyes turned an almost glassy hue of grey, a faraway expression passing over his face for a brief moment. And then it was gone, and he only looked sad now.
-Griet was has brief answer to her question
That one word sat heavy in her heart. Grief? She remembered that Kylan’s mother had died, and she could only assume that he was referring to her
“I’m sorry, Rylan. It’s a beautiful to
tattoo, she whispered to him, watching him closely in the slim lighting of the bedside lamps.
Kylan shifted on the bed, looking down at his lap, the fringe of his bangs half–concealing his face from her. “I feel like I need to warn you about something. He didn’t look at her as he spoke, his gaze still carefully trained on the duver.
Her stomach did a nervous flip and she slowly sat up, looking at kylan with a frown back on her face. Warn? What could he have to warn her about Countless possibilities ran through her mind in quick succession, and she swallowed against the anxious lump forming in her windpipe.
Kylan cleared his throat and seemed to take a deep breath, the muscles on his back and chest tensing and releasing as he did so. “I have nightmares. occasionally Well, not occasionally, almost every night, I typically wake up shouting. If that happens.. I uh, well. I apologize. You don’t need to do anything about it, either. Just go back to sleep.” He said it all so quickly, a slight tremor in his voice that she had never heard before.
someone like Kylan, the man who was always composed to a fault, having
Her frown deepened, Kylan had nightmares? For some reason, picturing somed
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Chapter 45
nightmares that would wake him up screaming? It pulled at her heart.
She turned her upper body toward him, her hand reaching out on instinct, but then she hesitated. Did he want her to comfort him? To show him any token at all that she was there? That she cared!
He told her not to do anything about the nightmares, so he most likely didn’t want her to get involved right now, either.
She pulled her hand back, squeezing it into a fist, her nails digging into her palm. It went against the grain of who she was to not comfort him. To not hold him.
But Kylan didn’t operate like most people, and she ultimately respected that.
“I’m sorry, Kylan. I’m sorry for your grief, and for your nightmares. I can go see if there’s tea in the cafe downstairs?” she offered, recalling seeing a small cafe in the lobby of the hotel on her way in from dinner.
Kylan looked at her then, his brows furrowed and his lips still downturned. But his eyes were searching as they roamed over her face. She met his gaze, wondering what exactly he was looking for when he stared at her like that
“That’s.. You don’t have to do that,” he said meekly, still looking right at her.
She gave him a
him a gentle smile and stood from the bed, walking into the closet, grabbing her peacoat, and then slipping her arms through the sleeves. “I want to. You stay here.” She grabbed her room key from the nightstand, along with her phone for good measure.
“It’s late. You shouldn’t be wandering the hotel by yourself right now.” Kylan moved to stand from the bed too, and she lifted a hand to stop
him
“Kylan. Portland is an exceptionally safe city. I’ll be back in ten minutes. I know how to make her tea, remember?” She smiled at him one more time and then left the room by herself before he could stop her.
