Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
A small smile touched my lips as more tears slid own my cheeks. “Always and forever,” I repeated in a whisper.
51
I rested my hand on my very pregnant belly as I moved around the painting room at the center. I was thirty-four weeks pregnant, and since Julian’s football season was finally over, we were back home. I was ecstatic to be back home.
Because I had secured a volunteer position at the center teaching patients how to paint, showing them techniques and the different ways to express their emotions.
Dr. Gresham stepped into the room. “Meghan, I have a new patient for you,” he announced.
I smiled at him, eager to help someone else. I loved being able to share my passion of painting with the other patients. Dr. Gresham turned and softly spoke to whoever was behind him. My eyes widened in shock when Alli stepped into the room.
“Alli?” I breathed in disbelief.
She gave me a small, broken, terrified smile. “I’m not very good at painting,” she said quietly as she fiddled with her fingers. My heart broke in my chest for her.
I moved forward and gently grabbed her hand in mine. “Let’s go to this easel,” I told her, forcing myself to be gentle and cheerful. I was shocked as hell to see her here. I didn’t know what had happened in the weeks that she had been gone, but whatever happened, it had fucked with her—and bad.
“I’m really no good at this,” she said quietly when I guided her down onto the stool.
“That’s okay. Painting doesn’t have to make sense. It doesn’t even have to be a thing.” She nervously looked up at me. “Sometimes, paintings are just blurs of colors, revealing all of the pain and torment we feel inside of ourselves.”
I pointed to the one on the wall nearest us. I had painted it when I had been furious with Vincent for thinking he could just pop back up in my life as it pleased him. I still hadn’t opened that door in my life to him, and I didn’t have any plans to. Sometimes, certain doors were better left closed.
“You see that painting?” I asked her. She nodded. “I painted that. I was angry with someone, and I was also extremely upset that they had randomly popped back into my life. I literally just grabbed my paintbrush and began dipping into colors, mixing them all up, and just angrily swiping my brush across the canvas. I didn’t care what I painted. I just wanted to relieve all of those pent-up feelings.”
“That’s all I have to do?” she asked me.
I nodded at her. “That’s all you have to do.” I pointed to the bottom of her easel. “There’s some paint there.” I pointed to the little table beside her easel where a paint tray sat with some brushes. “There are your brushes and your paint tray. Just put the paint on the tray so you don’t mix the colors in the bottles. And just paint until you feel your chest loosening and your stomach settling.”
Her wide eyes snapped up to mine. “How do you know what I’m feeling?”
I gave her a small smile. “Because I’ve been in your shoes, Alli,” I reminded her. “But you can get better.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I really want to this time. I promise.”
I brushed my hand over her hair. “Prove it to me.”
She nodded with determination in her brown eyes—the eyes that were the exact same shade of her older brother’s.
“I will,” she told me. “I swear.”
* * *
✶ ✶ ✶
* * *
I knocked lightly on Dr. Gresham’s office door. Once he called out a ‘come in’, I pushed his door open and walked inside. He looked up at me from the paperwork on his desk. With a small sigh, he set his pen down and gave me his undivided attention. “I was wondering when you were going to come question me.”
“Does Axel know she’s here?” I asked him.
Dr. Gresham shook his head. “I haven’t contacted anyone in fear that she wouldn’t respond again. She showed up here in the middle of the night about a month ago. She was bleeding, and she was begging for help. I was called in immediately. She was secluded in a padded room for about a week and a half before I finally got her moods stabilized and was able to put her into a normal room.”
“She’s making progress?” I asked him, hope in my voice—hope that Alli was finally going to grow stronger, hope that Axel might get his little sister back.
Dr. Gresham nodded with a smile on his face. My heart swelled with happiness. “She’s making real, true progress, Meghan,” he assured me. “She’s doing so good. She’s trying. I can see it in her. And she’s so much more open about how she’s feeling and what she’s been going through.”