Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
He waited behind Shane as he pulled keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “Most of the time I don’t lock my house or my truck, but this? Always. Funny, huh?”
It surprised Van the way Shane spoke to him. Maybe the way he spoke to Shane too. He wouldn’t have thought they’d connect like they had. Part of the time he wasn’t sure why they did and the rest of the time, he thought it made the most sense in the world.
Shane hit the switch to turn on the light when they walked inside. It wasn’t a big room—and it wasn’t a shed either. He shouldn’t have called it that.
There were saws on one side of the room, wood—a few small, random pieces—but it didn’t look as though that was where Shane focused most of his energy.
“Holy shit,” he whispered out as he walked across the room. There was shelf after shelf of glass pieces—all in different colors and shapes and sizes.
“You blow glass?” Van asked, his voice slightly rough with surprise.
He looked back and saw Shane shove his hands into his pockets. “You’re not the only person here who’s good at blowing things.”
“I think you might be better than me. Jesus, Shane. These are incredible. Can I?” he asked and Shane nodded. Van picked up one of the pieces. It was a swirl of blues, greens, and red—all twisting parts, circles attached to each other.
It was amazing. Van loved seeing a piece of art that someone else brought to life. “I had no idea you were into this kind of thing.”
“Most people don’t,” he replied, making Van wonder how many people, if any, did know. And how they’d gotten to the place where he was among them.
“Well, they should. Do you sell these or anything?” He set Shane’s artwork back on the shelf.
“Nah. I just do it for fun. I can’t imagine someone wanting to buy it.”
Van frowned. “Are you shitting me? Don’t go all humble on me. You’re fucking good and people would buy these, Shane. I guarantee it. It’s one thing if you only do your art for yourself and something entirely different if you keep it to yourself because you don’t think anyone else would want to see it.” People would fall in love with Shane’s work. He already had.
Van’s fingers itched to hold a paintbrush between them. He wanted to view the world through the lens on his camera. Seeing what Shane did made Van want to create.
“I do it just for me,” Shane finally replied. Van had a feeling he was lying but he didn’t call the other man on it.
“I think that’s a tragedy.”
Shane rolled his eyes, clearly not agreeing with him.
“I’m serious. I’m a little jealous of you.”
“Says the man who takes the most beautiful photographs I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s just because there’s cock and ass in them,” Van teased.
“Whatever you say.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms. “You can have one if you want. They’re just sitting out here.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, hoping Shane was.
“Yep.”
Van ran his fingers over a few pieces but picked up the one he’d already held. “I miss it,” he found himself saying.
“Miss what?”
“I can’t paint here…at least not at my mom’s. I tried but it’s almost like…I don’t fucking know. Like I’m dirtying something I love just by doing it in that house. I can’t paint there. I won’t. Not with all of the other shit that happened inside those walls.”
“You can paint here if you want,” Shane told him, his voice slightly lower. “Or I don’t know, you might not be here long enough to deal with it.”
The thing was, he almost didn’t see a reason to stay. He couldn’t help his mom if she refused it. They obviously weren’t getting closer or couldn’t see eye to eye on things. Still, as he looked at Shane, looked at those soulful brown eyes of his, Van realized he wasn’t ready to go. That he wanted to spend a little more time getting to know Shane, and hoping things could change with himself and his mom in the process.
“She refuses me at every turn. I don’t know why I try.”
“Because it would eat you alive not to,” Shane said with bare-boned truth in his words. Yes, it would bother Van not to try. He wasn’t happy that it would, but it was true. Shane wasn’t talking about Van though, he was talking about himself. It would eat him alive not to be there for his mom. Van thought Shane was probably happy here, but even if he wasn’t, he would stay because it would kill him not to.
“I think you’re giving me too much credit.” He wasn’t the same man that Shane was. He’d left and never looked back. He didn’t regret that fact, but it put Shane on a whole different playing field from himself.