G+B Chapter 19: The Painting

I nibbled on the end of my paintbrush and tilted my head to the side, concentrating on the canvas in front of me. The painting of the cottage was starting to come together, but there was still something missing. I tilted my head to the other side, my brows scrunching together. 

Was the perspective I’d sketched wrong? Was it the color that was off? I bit down harder on the end of my paintbrush. Should I scrap the canvas and start over? 

No, I’d gone through two canvases already trying to make it perfect, and this was my last one. I could make it work. I would make it work.

I swirled my brush through the brown paint on my plate, then dabbed it in the white and mixed the two colors together to create a lighter shade. I brushed the color onto the canvas, filling in the outline of the cottage.

I took a step back. “Ugh. Fuck,” I groaned.

I grabbed my phone from beside me and pulled up Amazon to order another set of canvases.

“Why are you looking at your phone like it’s offended you?” Graham said from behind me.

“It’s not the phone.” I hit submit on the order. “It’s the damn canvas.” 

“Why? What did it do this time?” Graham stepped up behind me, snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me flush against him.

I dropped my head back on his chest.

“I don’t know.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “It might just be me. I suck.”

Graham rested his chin on the top of my head and tightened his arms around me. “You do not suck, Bambi.” 

“Tell that to the last two canvases I threw away,” I mumbled.

“This is your first time using a canvas and paints like these. No one expects you to be perfect at it on the first try.”

“It’s just… I can see exactly how I want the painting to look in my head, but when I try to put it on the canvas it doesn’t look anything like I imagined.” I grimaced. “I hate it.”

“Well, we can get you some new canvases. Or you could try using a new… whatever they’re called.” 

“I think you mean medium.”

“Yes. That.”

I turned in his arms to face him and bit my lower lip.

“You already ordered new canvases, didn’t you?”

“They arrive tomorrow.”

Graham chuckled. “I should have known.”

“Sorry. I know you said you didn’t mind me using your card for whatever I needed, but I doubt an endless shipment of art supplies was what you meant.” 

“Don’t be sorry, Bambi. I’d fund an entire art studio if it’s what would make you happy.”

“Oh. Well, in that case… if you insist.” 

“Okay, smart-ass.” Graham smiled and shook his head.

“Alright, enough about my failed attempt at becoming an artist,” I said, winding my arms around his neck. “How are your blueprints for Green Cay coming along? You’re heading up there again tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, they’re good. Almost finished. I think they’ll be really happy with the mock-ups I drafted.” He glanced toward the house. “You sure you’ll be okay here on your own? Dane and Kylee wouldn’t mind if you wanted to tag along. Dane, especially.”

“I bet.” I laughed. “And I’m sure. I’ll be plenty occupied here, trust me.” 

I leaned in and kissed him. “Thank you for thinking of me, though.” 

“Anytime.”

I slid my arms from his neck and turned toward the canvas, Graham’s hands never leaving my waist. 

“Don’t throw this one away. The canvas. Keep working on it. Don’t try to make it perfect… just see where it takes you.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. 

“What about the painting is bothering you?” Graham asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been working on it out here for the last few days. Why don’t you take a step away from it for a bit?”

“Yeah, maybe. I just feel like… this was supposed to be the one thing I could control, you know. I love art. I’m good at art. When everything else goes to shit, this is supposed to be something I can rely on. I just—I just don’t understand why I can’t make it fucking work.”

“Bambi…” Graham turned me back to him. “What’s really going on? Talk to me.” 

“Everything. The whole trust situation and the bullshit with Randall. And now Caroline is fucking missing. It’s just a lot, okay. It’s a lot and I don’t know how to process it all. And now this stupid fucking painting doesn’t want to work either.” 

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay, Bambi.” 

“Is it? Because it doesn’t feel okay. I don’t feel okay. I thought that I was fine, you know? That we’d figure out what’s going on with the trust. But then Randall, and now Caroline’s gone. I just feel…”

“Not fine?” Graham finished. 

My shoulders sagged and I dropped my forehead to his chest. 

“Yeah.”

He breathed out a soft laugh. “And here I was thinking you were the more composed of the two of us this whole time.”

“I tried to be.”

“You didn’t have to. You know that, right? Do you remember what I told you your first night here?”

I shook my head.

“I told you that you were safe here, and I meant it. Bambi, you’re safe to be yourself, in whatever way that means. Happy, sad, angry. Or if what you’re feeling is fucking messy and complicated, you can be that too.”

He lifted my chin and held my gaze. “You don’t have to pretend. Not for me.”

“Thanks,” I said, “for reminding me.” 

His hand dropped from my chin and settled back on my waist. I wound my arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“Ugh. How did we get here?”

“Kidnapping, if I remember your accusation correctly.”

I chuckled against his chest. “Now who’s the smartass?”

His arms tightened around me. I relaxed against him and closed my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I know how badly you want to figure this shit out, and I promise you we will. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And next time, don’t feel like you have to keep all this shit to yourself. You can come to me with anything, Bambi.”

“I won’t. And I will. Promise.” I rose onto my toes and softly pressed my lips to his. “I love you. Thank you. I needed this.”

“I love you, too.” Graham gave my butt a light smack. “Now, paint that fucking cottage like I know you can.” 

“Sir, yes, sir.” 

Graham arched a brow. “Oh, I think I like hearing you call me sir.”

He dipped his head, burying his face against my neck as he peppered it with kisses.

“Okay, okay.” I giggled, bracing my palms on his chest. “Don’t you have work to finish?”

Graham sighed. “Unfortunately.”

He dropped a quick kiss to my lips, then backed toward the door. “Damn you for being so responsible.”

“Just doing my duty,” I said, picking up my paintbrush again. 

Graham stopped just inside the door and looked back at me. 

“Go on. Shoo shoo.” I waved my hand at him. “Sir.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up and he shook his head.

“Rude,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

I turned back to my painting and chuckled to myself. 

Sometime later, the back door creaked, and a cup of coffee appeared on the table beside me. By the time I looked up again, my empty cup had been replaced with a snack plate of grapes, cheese cubes, and dried salami. He returned sometime after that, pressed a kiss to my temple, and took the empty plate inside. 

The next time the back door creaked open, I was taking a step back from the finished canvas. 

Graham came to stand beside me and slipped an arm around my waist. “You did good, Bambi.”

I rested my head against his shoulder and smiled. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

Chapter Twenty →

G+B Chapter 17: Secrets Revealed — Graham

I wiped away the sweat trickling down my temple with the back of my hand and squinted up at the apartment building.

Bambi had said she’d rather never set foot in the building’s elevator, deeming it a giant death trap, but after my third run down to the dumpster this morning, I’d kill to have that giant death trap working.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my phone and glanced at the time. The junk removal company should be here soon to take care of the rest of the shit I couldn’t haul down three flights of stairs myself.

I drew in a deep breath, preparing myself for the trip back upstairs.

“I sure hope you’re enjoying yourself this morning, Bambi,” I muttered to myself as I climbed the last few steps.

Bambi had chosen to stay at the cottage today to play with her new art supplies, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. I’d much rather be literally anywhere else than here. But the apartment wasn’t gonna clean itself.

I pushed open the apartment door and looked at the pile in the living room, bigger now that most of the crap from my room had been cleared out. A few trash bags stuffed with my old clothes sat beside it, along with more useless shit that needed to go down to the dumpster.

I grabbed another trash bag from the kitchen counter and headed back to my room. All that was left to clean out was my desk and nightstand.

My desk was cluttered with engineering and industrial design textbooks and loose sheets of graph paper with half-finished designs. Old action figures sat toppled over on the top shelf, dust collecting in every crevice.

I gathered up the graph paper, old notebooks, and action figures and chucked them in the trash bag. Then I stacked the textbooks on the desk. They’d be taken to the library with the other books we’d set aside.

I opened the desk drawer and spotted a pack of sketching pencils. I pulled them out to give to Bambi before dumping the rest of the contents into the trash bag.

I moved to the nightstand next. The drawer was filled with classic car magazines and empty snack wrappers. All of it went into the trash.

Looking around the mostly bare room, I half-expected I’d feel some sort of sadness or grief, but all I felt… was nothing.

I turned and walked out, shutting off the light behind me.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the unknown number flashing across the screen.

Figuring it might be the junk removal company, I answered.

“Hello?”

There was no response.

“Hello, Graham speaking,” I said after a few seconds.

The call dropped.

I slid my phone back into my pocket and set the garbage bag from my room down with the others in the living room.

There was a knock at the door.

“Clean Slate junk removal!”

Oh. Must’ve been them.

I answered the door and let the three men inside.

After giving them a quick tour of the apartment, pointing out which items needed to go, I left them to it and headed into Caroline’s room.

I shook out a new garbage bag, wishing I’d brought gloves so I didn’t have to touch her shit with my bare hands.

I grabbed the shoebox first, setting it on the dresser to get it out of the way. I tossed the dirty spoons next, not wanting the junk guys to have to see that shit. Her clothes and shoes went after that. I tied up the bag and set it by her bedroom door, then grabbed a new bag for everything left in her dresser and closet.

As I worked in Caroline’s room, I heard the front door opening and closing as the guys hauled out the furniture.

At least Caroline’s room would be easy. The only piece of furniture she had was the dresser.

Two and a half trash bags later, Caroline’s room was cleaned out.

I grabbed the shoebox and carried it into the living room, setting it on the kitchen island. Then I went back for the trash bags.

One of the men was coming back inside as I hauled the bags to the door.

“The last room’s good to go,” I told him as I passed him.

“Sounds good, man,” he said.

I tossed the bags from Caroline’s room into the dumpster, then came back up to grab the rest of the bags that had come from my room.

Once I’d finished, I returned to the apartment to go through the shoebox. If Caroline had put divorce papers inside, who knew what else might be in there.

I stood at the island, emptied its contents onto the counter and shuffled through the papers. A lot of it was old mail, most of which was inconsequential. There were bank statements, parking tickets, and collection notices. There were also several bills from two other rehab facilities. I remembered Bambi saying she’d tried to get Caroline into rehab before, but none of them stuck. These must’ve been the places she tried. I set the papers aside for the trash and sorted through the rest, finding nothing but more of the same. I was about to chuck the entire box into the garbage when something caught my eye.

Bambi’s name.

My pulse quickened, though I wasn’t sure why. Seeing her name on some old mail wasn’t out of the ordinary. She lived here too. But as I scanned the paper, I realized it wasn’t just an old piece of mail.

I didn’t understand most of the document, but a few words stuck out. Trust. Beneficiary. Age twenty-five.

What the fuck was I looking at?

I held the paper closer, as if that would suddenly turn all the legal jargon into average fucking people wording. Sur-fucking-prise. It didn’t. But after a second read-through, I understood what it was saying well enough.

When Bambi turned twenty-five, she would gain access to whatever her father had left for her in the trust.

Her twenty-fifth birthday was three months away.

Did Bambi know?

I took my phone from my pocket, pulled up Bambi’s contact, and called her.

I carried the document down to my truck and waited for Bambi to answer.

“Hey,” she said, her voice sweet and bright. “You miss me?”

“’Course I did, but that’s not actually why I’m calling.”

“Oh? Everything going okay with the junk removal?”

“Yeah, that’s all going fine. They should be finished soon.”

“That’s great. So, what’s up?”

“Did your dad ever talk to you about what would happen after he passed?”

Bambi went quiet. “No, why?”

“You remember the box we found with the divorce papers?”

“Yeah…”

“I found something else inside. Some sort of paperwork naming you as the beneficiary of a trust he’d set up.”

“What? What trust?”

“I don’t know. But I have a paper in my hands right now that says you get access to it when you turn twenty-five.”

The line went silent. I pulled my phone away from my ear, thinking our call had cut out, but her name was still on my screen.

“Bambi?”

“I’m here. Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting this.”

“So, your dad didn’t say anything to you at all?”

“No. Nothing. Was there anything else in the box?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, laying the paper in my passenger seat. “Most of the crap was just crap. I’ll bring everything back home with me and we can look through the rest together.”

“Yeah, alright.”

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. No, I’m good. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Okay. Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. We’ll figure this out.”

“I know. And I love you, too.”

The call disconnected.

I dropped my head back against the headrest.

I wasn’t certain what this all meant, but my gut was telling me that something about it was off. It wasn’t as if Bambi’s dad had died suddenly or unexpectedly. He’d been sick for months. More than enough time for him to make sure his daughter was taken care of. So why hadn’t he told her about it? And why the fuck hadn’t Caroline?

The junk truck’s rear door slammed shut behind me. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw one of the men waving me down.

I hopped out of my truck and headed over to him.

“We’re all finished here,” he said.

“Great.” I extended my hand toward him. “Thanks for your help, man.”

“Of course,” he said, shaking my hand.

He whistled to one of his guys standing by the truck, who came jogging over with a clipboard.

“Just sign and date here for me,” he said, handing the clipboard to me.

I signed where he pointed and gave the clipboard back. He tore off the pink copy and handed it to me.

“That’s your copy there. You have a great rest of your day.”

“Thanks, you too.”

The man nodded and he and his partner headed to their truck.

I returned to the apartment and did a final sweep of the place to make sure that everything that needed to go was gone.

I stood in the middle of the living room and looked around one last time. Again, I expected to feel sadness or grief, but all there was was relief. That neither Bambi nor I would have to endure this place ever again.

I collected all the papers and mail I’d emptied from the shoebox and stuffed them back inside.

I sent Bambi a quick text to let her know I was about to head home. Then I left the apartment and locked the door behind me.

Later that night, Bambi and I sat in front of the fire in the living room, the shoebox between us.

“Are you sure you want to go through this right now?” I asked her.

“I’m sure,” she said, dumping the papers onto the floor. “I want to know what else Caroline is hiding from me.”

Some of the old mail went into the fire. Everything worth keeping, including the divorce papers and the trust document, went into a pile beside us.

There were only two other legal documents. One was her father’s death certificate, and the other was a life insurance policy naming Caroline as the beneficiary.

“Whoa,” Bambi said, her eyes going wide when she saw the amount of money on the policy. “Do you ever remember Caroline having this kind of money?”

“No,” I told her. “At least I don’t think so. I don’t remember anything changing that significantly after your dad died.”

“Do you think she collected it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s possible.”

“And what about the trust?” She set the paper down and picked up the trust document. “Why wouldn’t she say anything about this?”

“I don’t know, Bambi. Caroline was hardly ever sober. Maybe she just forgot about it.”

“You really believe that?”

I thought about it for a second. “No. Not really.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. None of this does.” She put the paper down with the others. “Why haven’t I been contacted about the trust? My father died seven years ago, Graham.”

“Well, you’re not twenty-five yet. Someone might reach out to you then, like what happened with me after my dad died.”

“Or Caroline intervened somehow,” Bambi said.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t put it past her, honestly.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I don’t know.”

Bambi flopped onto her back on the floor.

“Look,” I said, crawling over to her and angling myself over her. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight, Bambi. Let’s call it for now, yeah?”

“I guess.”

“Good.” I leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. Her cheek. Then the other side. I pressed my lips to hers.

“Are you trying to distract me?” She asked when I pulled back.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Maybe,” she shot back, a smile pulling at her lips. “I think you need to do it again. Just to be sure.”

I slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back and lifted her from the floor.

“What are you doing?” she asked, giggling as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Taking you to bed.”

Bambi’s brow lifted, her smile turning suggestive.

“Not like that, you horn-dog,” I said, shaking my head.

“Aw,” she whined. “No fun.”

I laughed and carried her to the bedroom.

Chapter Eighteen →

G+B Chapter 16: Blank Pages

His bare feet padded softly across the floor, and I heard the slide of his dresser drawer opening, the rustle of clothing, then the drawer closing. His door cracked open, and a minute later, the shower kicked on. 

When I stirred again, Graham was pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

“Graham?” I mumbled.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, lifting the blanket higher over my shoulders.

“Are you leaving?” 

“I’m needed on-site today,” he whispered. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

“Mmkay,” I said.

He planted another kiss to my forehead, and I was asleep again before he left the room.

I turned, reaching across the bed for Graham, but my hand found cool sheets instead.

My brows furrowed and my eyes drifted open. 

Oh yeah. He’d already left. 

“Coffee’s prepped and ready to go. Love you. G.” I read aloud.

I hit the start icon on the machine, then moved to the small window above the sink and drew open the curtains.

Some small patches of snow still lingered, but more of the yard was visible now than it had been a few days ago. For the first time in weeks, the heavy gray clouds were gone, replaced by puffy white ones and a clear blue sky. It seemed like spring was finally on its way.

I turned away from the window and sat at the kitchen table while I waited for the coffee to brew. 

My notebook was still on the table where I’d left it yesterday. I slid it in front of me, but something sticking out from between the pages caught my attention.

I pulled it from my notebook.

“Another card?”

I knew this is where you’d end up. Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself. Anyway, I have something for you. You’ll have to find Bear first. He holds the key. 

Coffee forgotten, I set the notecard down and went looking for Bear. I checked the living room first, remembering Graham setting him on the couch when we’d gotten back from the apartment. But Bear wasn’t there. I scanned the living room. There were only so many places he could be. He wasn’t on the coffee table or a bookshelf, nor was he sitting by the fireplace.

Where the hell did he go? 

I headed down the hall to check Graham’s room, since that’s where we’d been spending our nights together lately, but quickly discarded the idea. I would have noticed Bear in there when I’d woken up. 

That’s when I noticed my bedroom door was shut. I never shut my door. 

I opened the door, and there he was. Bear was propped up against the pillows on my bed, and tucked in his lap was another notecard. 

I picked up the notecard first, then Bear. Just as I was about to read the notecard, something hit the floor with a clink.

It was a small key. 

I grabbed it from the floor and turned it over in my fingers. I didn’t recognize it. It was too small to be a house key, and it wasn’t like I needed one of those anyway.

I turned my attention back to the notecard. 

You dropped the key, didn’t you?

“No,” I said, scowling at the card. 

I set Bear back on the bed and gave him a serious look. “Do not tell him I just did that. This stays between you and me.”

I continued reading Graham’s note.

Now that you have the key (that you’ll swear you didn’t drop), you’ll find what it belongs to in the place I once found you.

My brows scrunched together. “The place I once found you? What the hell does that mean?” 

The apartment? No, it couldn’t be. I didn’t have a way to get there. The shed in the woods I’d gotten stuck in during the blizzard? I shook my head. Hell no. He wouldn’t risk me going out there. Assuming I could even find it again.

Where the hell could he be talking about? 

I left my room and headed back toward the living room. Then it hit me. His office! The day I’d found my old notebook!

His office door was shut. There was keyhole, but it looked too large for the one in my hand. 

I turned the knob, and it gave way. “So, not the door then.”

I stepped inside his office and looked around but saw nothing that the key might fit into. No box, no chest, nothing. Maybe it was for one of the drawers in his desk? But I’d already looked through them before and didn’t remember seeing any keyholes.

It was worth a shot to check again, though, so I walked around his desk and sat in his chair. In the middle of the desk, right above my knees, there was a long, narrow drawer. And in the center, a keyhole. 

I slid the key inside. It was a perfect fit. 

I unlocked the drawer and pulled it open. 

A bright pink bow sat on top of a piece of white tissue paper. I pulled the bow and tissue paper away, and my breath caught. 

It was a brand-new sketchbook. It had a tan leather cover, engraved with my name—Bambi, this time. Not Hazel, like on the notebook. I undid the tie that held the sketchbook closed and opened to the first page. 

I hope you love it and get great use out of it. Thought you deserved something better than a beat-up old notebook.

I love you, Bambi.

Graham.

Tears filled my eyes. He really was perfection.

I lifted the sketchbook from the drawer and noticed something else underneath it.

There were four smaller packages wrapped in white tissue paper. I pulled the first one out and tore the paper away. It was a pack of sketching pencils. The second one was pens. As I started to unwrap the third, a loud ringing interrupted me.

I looked around, confused as to where the ringing was coming from. For a split second, I thought it might be Graham’s phone, that he’d come home without me realizing because I’d been so absorbed in unwrapping my gifts. But then I noticed that the ringing was coming from the drawer.

I quickly tore off the paper from the fourth package. Tucked inside the box was an iPhone, its screen flashing with Graham’s name and a photo of him.

I pulled the phone from the box and swiped across the screen, answering the FaceTime call.

His face came into view.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, grinning like a fucking madman. “I see you found my gifts.”

I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “I can’t believe you sent me on a scavenger hunt before I’ve even had my coffee. You’re diabolical, Graham.”

“The first notecard was literally set against the coffee machine, Bambi.” 

“Yeah, I know. But I found the second one while I was waiting for the coffee. I couldn’t not go looking for Bear.”

“Of course not.” Graham chuckled and shook his head. “Well? Do you like your gifts?”

“I love them,” I told him, tears welling in my eyes all over again. “Thank you, Graham.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” he said, a strange echo following his words.

I squinted at my phone, trying to get a look at the background. Something about it seemed familiar. 

“Where are you?” I asked. 

I heard the front door shut, and a moment later, Graham appeared in the doorway. 

“Home,” he said, looking at me. 

I set my phone on the desk and ran into his arms. He hugged me tightly, lifting me from the ground and spinning us in a circle. 

“I love you so much. Thank you for everything, Graham. Thank you!” 

I pressed kiss after kiss to his cheek until he was laughing so hard that I was shaking against him.

“Anytime,” he said, setting me back down. “Anything to see that smile of yours.”

“God,” I said, sucking in a sharp breath. “Stop being so cute. You’re going to—” I hiccupped. “Make me cry—” Another hiccup. “Again.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He wrapped me in his arms and kissed the top of my head. 

“I thought you were at work,” I said, looking up at him. “How did you even pull this off?”

“I was. I’d been putting it all together for a while, but I set it all up before I left this morning.”

He released me and headed for the kitchen. “You’re a damn heavy sleeper, you know that.”

Huh. I didn’t use to be. But now that I thought about it, ever since I’d started sleeping in Graham’s room, I’d been sleeping better than ever. 

“Oh. That reminds me,” I said, following after him. “I thought you worked from home?”

“I usually do. I’m occasionally needed on site, but it doesn’t happen that often.”

Graham started setting things out on the counter. 

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

“Celebratory PB&J’s.” He held up the jar of peanut butter in one hand and the jelly in the other. “Duh.”

There was something so endearing about him standing there with a goofy grin on his face, peanut butter and jelly in his hands, that all I wanted was to freeze this moment in time. 

“Don’t move!” I shouted at him, before hurrying back to his office to grab my phone. “I mean it! Not a muscle!” 

I snatched it up from the desk, opened the camera, and ran back to the kitchen to snap a photo. 

“Perfect,” I said, grinning at the picture. “I love it.”

“I’m glad,” he said, turning back to make our sandwiches.

“Can I just ask? Why the phone? The art supplies I get, but I’ve gotten so used to being without a phone that it almost feels weird having one again.”

Graham set our PB&J’s on the kitchen table, then pulled out a chair for me.

“You needed one,” he said, taking his seat. “If something happens while I’m out, I want you to be able to reach me. And vice versa.”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. I guess I never really thought about it that way.”

“Exactly. I’m not required to be on site very often, but there are times, like today, where I am. Most job sites are pretty safe, but accidents can happen.”

“Was your job site today safe?”

“Definitely. Probably the safest one I’ve been to yet. It’s a summer camp about an hour from here. Camp Green Cay. The owner, Dane, and his girlfriend Kylee are renovating the main lodge. If anything, Kylee is the only dangerous thing on the site. She’s a spitfire, that one. Not hard to tell that she’s the one who actually runs the show.”

I took a bite of my sandwich. “I like her already.”

“I’m sure you do.” He laughed. “Lord help us the day you two meet.”

“Can’t wait.” I smirked.

“I’ve actually gotta head back in a few days. I can give her your number.”

“That would be great,” I said.

After we finished eating, we headed back into Graham’s office to collect my new things and bring them into the living room.

We spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch, talking about what I might draw first in my sketchbook. Graham listened to me gush over my new pens and pencils. He let me take way too many photos of him and an embarrassing number of selfies of us without a single complaint. I, of course, set the goofiest photo of him as his new caller ID. 

By the time we settled into bed that night, I realized what I wanted to put on the first page of my sketchbook.

“I know what I’m going to draw,” I told Graham.

“What is it?”

“The cottage.”

“The cottage? Why?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I said. “It’s just… this feeling I have. I want the cottage to be the first thing I draw.”

There were a million different feelings wrapped up in that little cottage, most of which I didn’t have names for. It just felt… right.

Graham pulled me against him, and I rested my head on his chest. “I think that’s a great idea,” he said.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Chapter Seventeen →

G+B Chapter 11: Undeniable

Again. And again. And again. 

My fingers tightened around my colored pencil, the tip ripping through the paper. I tore the page out, balled it up, and tossed it aside. It rolled across the kitchen table, joining the rest of the crumpled pages I’d already ripped from my notebook. There had to be at least ten pages now.

I groaned and dropped my head to the kitchen table. 

Graham had been in the front yard since I’d woken, hacking away at log after log, each strike of the axe further chipping away at my resolve. 

Don’t look, Bambi. Do. Not. Look!

I lifted my head from the table anyway and immediately regretted my decision.

Graham stood in the yard, his shirt clinging to sweat-soaked skin as he raised the axe overhead. His forearms flexed as he brought the axe down, splitting the log into two perfect halves.

My thighs clenched.

In one smooth motion, he hooked the shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground. He swung the axe again with effortless precision, buried it deep into the splitting block, and exhaled a heavy breath. 

I bit my bottom lip, just barely holding back a whimper.

God, he should not be allowed to be this attractive at nine o’clock in the morning. It’s entirely unfair.

Shit. Well, now you’ve gone and done it, Bambi.

There was a retort ready at the tip of my tongue. I swear there was. But my eyes caught on a bead of sweat trailing from behind his ear and down his neck. I tracked it lower. And lower. Until it settled in the hollow of his throat. 

My eyes snapped back to his. 

“You wanna give it a go?” 

My eyes flicked to the axe still buried in the stump, then back to him. “You know you can just buy the wood at the store, right?”

He stepped closer again. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “When I’ve got everything I need right here.”

“Come on,” he laughed. “Give it a try.”

He placed a new log on the stump, then moved behind me. His hands settled firm and steady on my shoulders, and he turned me toward the stump. His chest hovered at my back, the heat of him seeping through the fabric of my shirt as if there were nothing separating us at all. 

He released my hands and took hold of my waist. 

“Move back just a little.” He eased me backward until my back was pressed firmly against his chest. He leaned in, his voice low but steady. “Feet shoulder-width apart.”

I adjusted my stance, sucking in a sharp breath as my bottom brushed against the front of his jeans and the noticeable ridge beneath. 

His fingers tightened around my waist.

Oh fuck.                                

I slowly turned my head toward him. His eyes were fixed on mine, his gaze darkened and his jaw clenched.

I faced forward and tried to focus on the instructions he gave, but I was too aware of him to move. His breath at the back of my neck. The solidness of his chest. His hold on my waist. 

“Bambi.” 

I almost jumped at the sound of his voice. 

“Right. Sorry,” I rushed out. 

Graham let go of my waist and stepped to the side.

I lifted the axe above my head and swung. It was heavier than I expected, and my foot slipped, throwing me off balance. 

Graham reacted instantly. His arms locked around my waist, pulling me into his chest.

I braced my hands against him, steadying myself. His heartbeat hammered beneath my palms, his breath coming in short, choppy bursts. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

I glanced back at the stump. The axe had missed the log completely and was lodged in the ground.

“I think I’ll leave the wood chopping to you, though.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”

When our eyes met, his gaze dipped to my lips, lingering there before sliding back to my eyes. 

My mind immediately wandered to last night’s kiss, reigniting the desire I’d been trying so hard to ignore.

I looked away, hoping he couldn’t see the effect he had on me.

“So, lunch?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m starved.”

I swallowed hard. Somehow, I had a feeling he meant for more than food. 

“Great,” I said, my voice coming out more high-pitched than intended.

“Let’s go, you big lumberjack.” I turned away and continued inside. 

I walked to the fridge and peered inside. “How do sandwiches sound?” I called out, grabbing the deli meats and condiments.

“Geez, man, I thought you were still in the living room.”

“Sorry,” he said, his lips quirking upward. He moved past me to pull two plates down from the cabinet. “Sandwiches sound good.” 

“Had what?” I asked, bringing my plate to the table. 

“The log.” He brought his own plate to the table and sat in the chair across from me. “You were pretty damn close.”

“Pfft. Hardly. Did you forget that I buried the axe in the ground instead of the stump or the log?”

“We’ll make a lumberjack out of you yet.”

I arched a brow at him. “Please don’t. The lumberjacking is all you.”

“Sure.” I plucked a napkin from the holder and held it out to him. 

His fingers grazed mine.

God, was he doing that on purpose?

“Thanks,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Yeah, he definitely was. 

“Yep.” I brought my sandwich to my mouth and took a bite.

My hand stilled, my sandwich halfway to my mouth.

I waited for him to move his foot, but instead, it settled more fully against mine. 

This motherfu–

His foot slid against mine again. 

I bit into my sandwich. More focused on chewing, swallowing, breathing than ever before.

I finally looked up. “Graham.”

His gaze dipped below the edge of the table for half a second. When he met my eyes again, he wore a barely-there, corner-of-his-mouth, I-know-what-you’re-doing smirk.

“I’m gonna shower,” he said, stepping away from the table like nothing had happened at all. 

I glared at his back as he disappeared down the hall. 

Fucking. Bastard. 

I slid my chair back from the table and escaped to the living room. I flopped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. 

Do. Not. Think. About. It. 

In the end, though, my efforts were futile. 

I covered my face with a throw pillow and groaned into it. “Damn it.”

Chapter Twelve →

G+B Chapter 5: Unanswered Questions

The house was quiet. It was a different kind of quiet than I was used to. It was calm, not tense like the apartment.

“Morning,” I replied, unsure how he’d known I was there without looking away from what he was doing.

“Coffee’s fresh, and there’s muffins and fruit in the fridge for you.” 

“I’m fine,” he replied, throwing me a quick glance over his shoulder. “But thank you.”

I gave him a small smile. “Sure.” 

Shit. Why am I making seating arrangements so freaking complicated?

I shook my head at myself. I was being ridiculous. 

I took my coffee and joined him in the living room. I sat beside him, tucking my legs beneath me, my knee just barely brushing his thigh.

“Yeah.” He reached for his mug, then leaned back. “A tough client.”

“Anything I can do?”

A slight smile curved his lips. “No. Thank you, though.”

He breathed a laugh. “Do I look that bad?” He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands further. 

“No,” I chuckled lightly. “Just tired.”

Talk to me, I wanted to say. Help me understand. Because I was having a hard time reconciling the boy who had left me with the man who was sitting in front of me now. 

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Sorry for interrupting.”

I cranked the shower handle as far as it could go and waited until the steam had fogged the glass shower doors to step inside. I stood under the hot water, not washing, not scrubbing. I just stood. 

I dropped my head back and let the water run over my hair, wishing that the water could take my thoughts with it. 

I closed my bedroom door behind me and took a tentative step forward. 

They were Graham’s clothes—another black shirt, long sleeve this time, a pair of black sweats, and— 

My cheeks heated. 

A pair of plaid boxer shorts.

Why? 

But no matter how I tried, I couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer. Or rather, I could. 

He cared. 

And somehow, that only left me more confused. No matter which way I looked at it, I kept arriving at the same conclusion as yesterday.

If he cared, why did he leave?

From outside my window, Graham’s voice grew louder.

I clutched my towel tighter and slowly made my way to the window, carefully drawing back the edge of the curtain to peer outside. 

He continued pacing as he spoke, and the deeper his voice grew, the more unsettled he looked.

I’d never seen him like this before.

I dressed quickly and shoved my boots on, then headed toward the porch. The French door hinges creaked as I opened them, and Graham whirled around. 

“I’ve gotta go,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine.

He shoved his phone in his pocket with more force than necessary. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Who were you talking to? Was it about Caroline?”

His jaw clenched. “Get back inside, Bambi. It’s too cold for you to be out here.”

“What? No, I’m fine, Graham.”

“You’re shivering,” he pointed out.

“I don’t care. You can’t avoid these conversations forever. What is going on?”

“Dammit, Bambi. Nothing is going on.” He moved toward the door. 

“Because there’s nothing to discuss, Bambi—”

“Yes there is! God, Graham, there is!” Frustration flooded my system until I barely noticed the cold anymore. 

“You can’t just keep me here and keep me in the dark. You can’t just… just… make decisions that impact my life and not tell me what the hell is going on!”

“I am trying to protect you, Bambi,” he said, frustration slipping into his tone. 

“Well, I didn’t ask you to!” I shouted. “And what about the last four years, huh? Where were you to protect me then?”

I hoped this was it. That if Graham were going to tell me anything, it would be now, but once more, he remained quiet. 

“Still have nothing to say to me?” I hated how my voice cracked when I spoke. Hated that I was still so affected by everything he did and didn’t do. Everything he said and didn’t say.

The silence stretched between us. 

I sighed heavily. “Fine, then. Fuck you, Graham.” 

I turned and walked down the porch steps and into the yard. 

I pushed farther into the woods, blinking furiously at the sting behind my eyes. The farther I walked, the thicker the trees became and the deeper my boots sank into the snow. 

“Idiot,” I muttered, my breath leaving me in white puffs. “So stupid.”

I trudged farther still, walking until the cottage had vanished completely, swallowed by thick pines.

For just a moment I wondered if I’d gone too far and considered turning back. But the thought of facing Graham again made my chest tighten and stomach turn. 

So, I kept walking. 

Chapter Six →


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G+B Chapter 4: Discovery

I woke to the scent of coffee, bacon, and eggs drifting through the bedroom.

I followed the aroma to the kitchen, where Graham stood over the stove, transferring strips of sizzling bacon from the pan onto two plates.

I stood there for a moment watching him. It felt like stepping into a childhood memory. Twelve-year-old Graham in the apartment kitchen, cooking whatever he could manage to scrounge up. Even then, he was always taking care of me.

I blinked and the memory dissolved.

“Morning,” he said from over his shoulder.

“Morning,” I replied.

I took a seat at the table and rubbed my tired eyes.

When I opened them again, a plate sat in front of me, piled high with eggs, bacon, and buttered toast.

I looked toward Graham who was back in the kitchen, pouring coffee into two mugs. He carried them both to the table, then went back to grab his own plate before sitting across from me.

I wrapped both hands around my mug, letting the heat sink into my palms.

Graham lifted his mug to his lips. “Sleep okay?” he asked before taking a sip.

He looked at me over the rim, the early morning sunlight catching in his eyes and making the green stand out even more. 

There was something about the way he was looking at me…

Oh god.

Had he heard me standing outside his bedroom door last night or was it my own guilty conscience reading more into his expression than was actually there?

I lifted my own mug and took a sip, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way heat crept into my cheeks. 

“Mmhmm,” I said. “You?”

“Fine,” he replied.

Before I could decipher the look in his eyes, a sharp buzz sounded from his back pocket.

He drew out his phone, his jaw tightening as he glanced down at the screen.

“Excuse me,” he said. He stood from the table and walked toward a room I hadn’t noticed before. The door swung closed behind him but didn’t shut completely.

Graham’s voice was low, but I caught a few clipped words.

“Yes. Transfer. I’ll be there.”

When he came back, there was an edge to his features that hadn’t been there before.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“I have something I need to take care of,” he said, heading for the door. He shrugged on his coat and reached for the doorknob. “I won’t be long.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

I stared at the closed door for far too long, a familiar knot forming in my stomach.

My breakfast sat untouched in front of me, my appetite gone. I tossed the food into the trash and carried our plates to the sink. As I washed the dishes, the knot in my stomach grew tighter, old feelings clawing their way inside.

He said he would be back, I told myself. This wasn’t the same as before. He wasn’t leaving.

I told myself this over and over, but still the tightness persisted. Maybe if I had something else to do, something to distract myself, I might feel better.

I wandered into the living room and carefully added a new log to the low fire the way I had seen Graham do it. Once the log caught, heat spread throughout the room.

I stepped away from the fireplace, and stood in the center of the living room, taking my first real look at it. The furniture was sleek, modern, all in warm brown tones and soft leather. I moved to the shelves on either side of the fireplace, scanning the books and movies that lined them. A thin layer of dust coated the tops as if they were merely there for the look of them.

The cottage should have felt lived in, yet it didn’t. There were no photographs. No personal clutter. Just furniture and books arranged like it was a showroom.

A strange heaviness settled in my chest.

The cottage reminded me of the apartment in a way—lifeless.

Graham had left on his own. Built a life for himself. Yet standing there, surrounded by untouched books and spotless furniture, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he was really living.

I turned to leave but my gaze caught on a partially open door to the right of the living room. I slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was his office. His scent was stronger here, as if he spent more time here than anywhere else.

The space was small, with minimal furniture, but cozy. A dark wood L-shaped desk sat in the center of the room with a high-back leather chair tucked in behind it.

I walked around the desk and huffed a quiet laugh at the sight.

“Organized chaos,” Graham would call it.

Stacks of folders sat in uneven heaps, their contents spilling from the sides. Loose papers and legal pads were scattered across the desk, and several books had been left open.

I sat down in the high back chair behind his desk and looked it over. My gaze dropped to the drawer, and before I could talk myself out of it, I opened it.

It was filled with dozens of manila folders. Company names were written in the upper right-hand corner of each one, all organized alphabetically.

I shut it and opened the one below. It was filled with more files from companies I didn’t recognize.

I closed it and moved to the other side, opening the first drawer. Unlike the others, this one wasn’t organized at all. There were various pads of yellow sticky notes with rough writing scribbled across them, and a handful of stray paperclips and thumbtacks scattered about.

Just as I went to shut it, I noticed the frayed edge of a faded blue notebook. I carefully pushed the papers and thumbtacks aside and froze.

A familiar tattered notebook stared back at me. My fingers trembled as I pulled it free.

Graham’s name was written across the center in careful block letters. Beneath it, in my own crooked eight-year-old handwriting, were the words: and Hazel.

A small smile tugged at my lips. I hadn’t gone by Hazel in years. Somewhere along the way, Graham had started calling me Bambi, and I’d been Bambi ever since.

I opened to the first page. Math problems lined the page, written in Graham’s handwriting. Taking up nearly all the space in the margins were a chaotic arrangement of tiny flowers, suns, and hearts. I flipped to the next page where Graham’s notes stopped abruptly halfway down. The rest was overtaken by a wild and uneven rainbow. The next few pages were the same. More math problems and notes interrupted by explosions of colorful doodles and drawings.

 On the next page, a crude drawing of a family sat askew in the center. The color had dulled and some of the lines were slightly faded, but I recognized the drawing instantly. It was my dad, Caroline, Graham, and me.

I flipped to the next page. Then the next. With each turn of the page, with each new drawing, both Graham’s and my own, my vision blurred more and more.

I pressed my thumbs harder into the paper as if that might steady me.

The floorboards creaked loudly from the kitchen.

“Bambi?” Graham’s voice echoed down the hall, and a second later, he appeared in the doorway.

His eyes flicked to the notebook, then back to me.

I closed the notebook and moved slowly around the desk. I held his gaze and walked towards him, clutching the notebook in my hands.

“You kept it,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Yeah.” His voice came out rougher than before.

I stepped closer until our chests were nearly touching. I tilted my head back, refusing to look away. “Why?”

His jaw worked for moment, before his lips parted slightly.

My heart beat hard, daring to hope that he might finally answer me, but I could see the hesitation in his eyes. It had never been this difficult to get him to talk to me.

I wasn’t sure what to say now and truthfully, I wasn’t sure my words would be enough, so I did the only other thing I could think of.

I lifted my hand slowly and pressed my palm against his chest. His breath caught, and I felt his heart stumble beneath my fingers.

Graham’s hand rose even slower. He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers barely grazing my skin. It was as if he was choosing the only place he could touch me without losing himself.

His gaze dipped low, then back to my face, so quickly I almost missed it. Then, just as quickly, his hand dropped away and the wall he’d been so close to letting fall, snapped firmly back in place.

I lowered my hand and took a step back. I knew I wasn’t going to get the answer I was hoping for.

“Everything go okay?” I asked softly.

“I met with a rehab coordinator,” he answered. “Caroline won’t be coming back anytime soon.”

“It won’t last,” I told him, recalling the last two times I’d tried to get her into a program. “It never does.” 

“She doesn’t have a choice this time.”

“And what about me?”

“I already told you, Bambi. You’re not going back there.”

He was quiet for a moment, then added. “I’m selling the apartment. There won’t be anything for you to go back to.”

My stomach dropped.

“Why do you get to be the one that decides that? That was my home too, Graham.”

“I’m deciding what I won’t let happen.”

“You didn’t decide that before.”

Graham’s jaw tightened. “No. Someone else decided for me.”

He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and started toward his room. After a few steps, he glanced back at me and nodded at the notebook.

“Keep it. It was always yours anyway.”

Then he disappeared down the hall.

I stood there a moment longer before finally shutting the office door and heading back to my room.

I climbed onto my bed and set the notebook down in my lap.

It should’ve been comforting to know that he’d kept it, but somehow, it only confused me more. I sighed and fell back against the pillows. 

He was the one who left. Without warning and without explanation. Yet for four years he’d held onto this notebook.

If he hadn’t cared… why keep it? If he had… why’d he leave?

My gaze drifted back to the notebook in my lap. I ran my fingers over the worn cover before opening it again.

I flipped through the rest of the pages, most of them blank, until dark scribbles made me pause. It was the last drawing in the notebook.

Drawn in dark, rough, almost angry strokes was the figure of a witch. It wasn’t like the witches from a fairytale or cartoon dressed in black with pointy hats. It was darker than that. There was something sinister in her eyes, and her smile, too wide, looked cruel. The witch looked almost happy in her cruelty.

My eyes stayed fixed on the page. The shape of her face, her eyes, the way the edges of her mouth twisted as she smiled, all disturbingly resembled Caroline.

I couldn’t unsee it, now. The similarities between the two.

Was this how Graham had seen her? And if so, maybe there was more to what happened than I realized.

For so long I had told myself that Graham had left without a single care. I’d believed it for years. But what if that wasn’t the truth?

What if I hadn’t been the only one hurting? What if I wasn’t the only one still hurting?

Chapter Five

Review: Quicksilver by Callie Hart

Quicksilver by Callie Hart
Book 1 in the Fae & Alchemy series
Genre: Romantasy, Dark Romance, Action + Suspense

What really hooked me first was the world Callie Hart created. I was immediately curious about it and wanted to know more about the realm itself and who Saeris Fane was and what her part in the story really was. 

The book starts a little slow, but once it kicks off… it really kicks off. I could not for the life of me put it down (much to the annoyance of my husband lol).

The worldbuilding was one of my favorite parts. Callie Hart did an exceptional job making the realm feel immersive and alive, with each place having its own personality. What I appreciated most was that the descriptions never bogged down the pacing. There was just enough detail to pull you into the world without getting lost in pages of description.

Another standout for me was the banter between Saeris and Fisher. Their bickering was fun, razor-sharp at times, and genuinely funny at others. Their dynamic added so much personality to the story.

The spice was also handled really well. It elevated the story instead of taking it over. This was definitely a plot-driven book with spice sprinkled in at the right moments, which worked especially well with the enemies-to-lovers, slow-burn tension building between them. (Just to be clear, I also love books that are absolutely filthy with spice but this balance really worked.)

The action scenes were another thing I really enjoyed. The fighting sequences were exciting and easy to follow. If you read fantasy, sometimes you know that is not always the case. I didn’t have to reread a scene five times to understand what just happened.

There were so many incredible lines throughout the book that it was honestly hard to pick just a few favorites, but here a few that stood out to me:

“…vibrated with a tempestuous energy.”

“…his voice might also be the stroke of velvet in the ever-encroaching darkness.”

“One second, the pool was solid. The next, it was a shining banner of liquid silver, glinting as it undulated in the torch light.”

It had been a while since I’d picked up a fantasy book, since I’ve mostly been reading dark romance lately, but holy hell this did not disappoint. Not even a little.

Overall, this was a fantastic read. 10/10. No complaints. I’ve already picked up book two and cannot wait to dive back into this world.


If you’re interested in reading this story for yourself, you can grab it below:

Quicksilver

🔥 Hot Tip! It’s free on Kindle Unlimited!