Since I Found You Read online

  “So, I guess you don’t want to go to Last Call then?”

  “Oh no, we have to go there. I’m certainly not going to Maurice’s. That place is a tourist trap, not to mention that woman Marco was seeing behind my back works there. She didn’t take it out on me when she walked in on my date with Marco, but I don’t trust her not to spit in my drink if I show up at her bar.”

  I laugh. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

  “Nope, but I’m taking you out. My treat to celebrate your success.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. I only have three students.” I pull her to her feet. “I’ll drive since you don’t feel well.”

  “Nothing a little alcohol can’t fix,” she says with a smile. “But let’s call Uber so we can both get hammered and not have to worry about driving home.” She already has her phone out.

  “I’m going to run upstairs and get ready,” I tell her.

  I take the stairs two at a time. I’m excited to celebrate with Elana, but I’m also nervous because Last Call is the unofficial meeting place of the For the Record staff. I could run into Alex. He hasn’t tried to call me, which is good. Maybe he’s accepted that this is what I want. More like what I need because I can’t be with him after what he did. No matter how much I miss him. No matter how much I want to take him back.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Alex

  I’m finishing up my latest article and getting ready to send it on to David for edits when Cheryl walks over to my desk.

  “Where were you yesterday?” she asks. “We were all at Last Call. Even Mr. Monohan showed up for once.”

  I smile because I would have liked to see that. But when Aria called me to say Whitney and Elana were at the bar, I decided it was best not to go. Her grand opening is tomorrow, and I figured they were celebrating. The last thing Whitney needed was me ruining it by showing up.

  “I wasn’t feeling well,” I tell Cheryl, which isn’t a lie because I’ve felt like complete shit since I last spoke to Whitney. No, that’s not true. I’ve felt like shit since I secretly bought that painting and lied to her about it. I hung it up in my living room, so it’s a constant reminder of what an ass I can be and what I lost because of it. I don’t deserve her.

  Cheryl slaps me on the back. “Next time then.” She walks away, leaving me to wallow in my misery.

  David pulls a chair over to my desk. “You missed a good time yesterday.”

  “So I hear.”

  “Did you know Cheryl is into women?” he asks. “Apparently, she thinks Whitney’s friend Elana is hot.”

  “No, I didn’t know. I don’t think Elana would be into that, though.”

  David shrugs. “I don’t know. She told me she’s been burned by too many men lately. She might be open to switching teams, if only for a while.”

  I doubt it. “Tell Cheryl not to get her hopes up.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Elana kept staring at James.”

  I know James was interested in Emily for a while, so I could see David trying to hook him up with Elana. Of course, that would make for uncomfortable work outings if she was there. I’d feel like I was being spied on all the time and she’d report everything back to Whitney.

  “Hey.” David claps his hand down on my shoulder. “Have you tried talking to her?”

  I don’t have to ask whom he’s referring to. I shake my head. “There’s really nothing to say. I fucked everything up. That’s all on me.”

  “True.” He bobs his head. “But, you’re only human. And so is she. You two both go to extremes sometimes. Like her with the murals. She could have petitioned or rallied the public to sway the school board’s opinion. But she didn’t.”

  “Do you know why I didn’t turn her in?”

  “Yeah, you wanted to hook up with her.” He laughs.

  I roll my eyes. “Could you be serious for a minute?”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You’re not. But I painted part of that mural. One brushstroke so that if she went down for the crime, I could take the fall with her. Say I contributed.” I let out a deep breath.

  “But instead you bailed her out. You’ve done a lot for her. Not all of it was done well, but you did it with good intentions.” He stands up. “After you send me that article, I have a new assignment for you.”

  Already? This is good, though. I need to stay busy to keep my mind off Whitney. I click “send” on the email. “Done. What’s the assignment?”

  “You’re covering the opening of Stillwater Art School.” He wags his eyebrows at me before walking away.

  I could protest or try to convince him to assign the story to someone else, but the truth is, I want to see Whitney, and I know I’ll write a damn good article that might even get her more business. I owe her that much.

  I grab my jacket and phone and head out. The schools have let out for the day, which means I get stuck behind bus after bus. Every second I get stuck waiting for kids to walk off the bus makes me that much more eager to see Whitney. I’m sure she doesn’t want to talk to me, but she’s not going to turn down the free publicity for her school.

  I finally pull up outside the school twenty minutes later. The lights are on inside, and I see Arthur Ellison and a young girl walking out. I park my car, pay the meter, and peer through the window. Whitney is smiling to herself, which must mean that the young girl will be a student. I almost don’t want to open the door, knowing that smile will fade as soon as Whitney sees me. My hand shakes as I reach for the door handle. There’s no bell over the door, but the sudden rush of wind that follows me into the school alerts Whitney that someone’s here.

  She’s still smiling when she lifts her head, but her mouth quickly falls into a straight line. “What are you doing here, Alex?”

  “I’m on assignment. I’m covering your grand opening.” I step fully inside, the door closing behind me.

  “Did you request that story so you could force me to talk to you?” She’s keeping the desk between us even though I haven’t made any attempt to move toward her.

  “No. David assigned it. Though I think his intention was to get us to talk.”

  She shakes her head. “I have two students arriving very soon, so you’ll have to talk quickly.” She moves toward the easels she has set up in the center of the room. She fiddles with the brushes, but since everything is clearly already set up, I know it’s just to avoid looking at me.

  I go through the motions of questioning her about the place, holding my phone out to record her responses. “What are the hours you plan to be open?” It’s such a ridiculous question since I could take that information from her website or the sign on the front door.

  “Like I said, we’re short on time, so why don’t you ask me something of importance?” Her terse tone is completely merited, but that doesn’t lessen the sting any. “Fine,” she says when I don’t respond. “How about a quote?” She turns toward me. “Sharing my love of art has always been my dream. This school is allowing me to accomplish that goal.” She holds her hands out at her sides for a few seconds before letting them drop. “I think you can get any other information you need from my website. You clearly know where that is.”

  The dig is like a knife to my chest. “Fair enough,” I say. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know what I did was stupid, and you have every right to be angry with me.” I take a deep breath, because I know I won’t get another opportunity to explain myself. I have to at least try. “My upbringing was nothing like yours. My parents showed their love by buying me things. A horse for my seventh birthday. A car when I turned sixteen. I vowed I’d never be like them—only present in the form of gifts or money. I thought by helping you, I was being present, working along side you.”

  “You weren’t working with me, Alex. You took over. You did those things on your own. And you know deceiving me about that purchase was downright shitty.” Her face is red, and she’s clutching the easel like she’s afraid she’ll c
ollapse without its support.

  “I know. I don’t deny that. I guess some of my parents does live inside me. I hate it.”

  “Don’t blame them for your actions.”

  “I’m not. It’s all me. It’s part of who I am, but I don’t want to be that person.”

  The door opens, and two teenagers walk in.

  “Hey, Ms. Stillwater,” the boy says.

  Whitney turns toward her desk, discreetly swiping at her eyes. “Noah, Becky, you’re right on time. I have your easels all ready for you, so you can put your book bags down on the couch in the front and come right over.”

  Becky’s eyes narrow on me when she slings her bag onto the couch. “We can wait if you’re busy,” she says to Whitney.

  “No need. Mr. Wilkes was simply interviewing me for an article in For the Record.” Her gaze meets mine. “We’re finished.” I’m sure the words are meant to mean something different to me and Becky.

  I should leave. I should let her move on with her school and be happy. But damn it, I can’t. “Actually, I’m not finished. Not yet.”

  “Noah, Becky,” Whitney says even though her eyes are on me, “go ahead and prep your brushes. We’re going to be painting the vase on my desk.”

  Noah and Becky just stand there, like they’re rooted to the floor.

  “I didn’t buy that painting because I didn’t believe in you or that you wouldn’t get another sale. It was the exact opposite. I know you’ll sell more paintings. But I also know it will take time. I only wanted to help you get on your feet so you didn’t give up on your dream too soon.”

  “Should we come back later?” Noah asks.

  “No!” Whitney holds a hand up to them. “Alex, you need to leave.”

  I do the exact opposite. I move toward her. “Ever since I found you in that parking lot, I’ve been committed to investing time in you—in us. I don’t know what it was, but I think I knew it was you all along. I saw the paints in the trunk of your car. I followed you to Amor Amici that night, determined to help you, not because I thought you were incapable of making a difference on your own, but because I wanted to be a part of what you were doing. I don’t know if you realize it or not, but you’ve been so determined to do everything on your own. You let Elana build your website, but you wouldn’t let me do anything for you. No matter how much I tried, you kept pushing me away, so I just started doing things. I know it was wrong, but I wanted you in my life. I wanted to show you that I could be there with you.”

  “You took over, Alex.” She steps back, but the desk stops her from retreating further.

  I close the distance between us. “I was going to tell you about the painting. Please believe that. I never meant to hurt you. I was afraid of losing you, and it made me act crazy.”

  “Ms. Stillwater?” Noah says, and I want to scream for the interruption because Whitney is finally looking at me like she might understand where I’m coming from.

  “Yes, Noah?” she says, but she doesn’t move away from me.

  I turn to see Noah is at the easel. He turns his canvas around. “I found a better subject. I hope that’s okay.”

  He’s painted two eyes. Nothing more. They’re blue, and without needing to move closer, I know there’s something reflected in them. Noah brings the painting to us. “At the art show, I saw the painting you did. It was my favorite, but the price tag was more than I could ever afford. So, I thought I’d try painting a similar one.”

  “Those are my eyes, aren’t they?” Whitney asks.

  “Yeah. I’m guessing the ones you painted were his.” He tilts his head in my direction. “Yours had a similar look in them, though.” He bobs a shoulder. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s—”

  “Love,” Becky says, standing next to Noah and staring directly at Whitney. “I don’t know what he did, but I’m pretty sure you’re both in love with each other.”

  Whitney’s eyes fill with tears. “Can you two give us a minute?”

  They nod, and Noah hands her his painting. “You told me to convey emotion with my painting, no matter what it is that I’m painting. The emotion in this one was already there. I just tried to capture it.”

  She offers him a weak smile before swallowing hard. “Thank you, Noah. It’s beautiful.”

  Noah and Becky walk out of the art studio and stand just outside.

  “I think you should hang that up when he finishes it,” I say, breaking the silence.

  “He’s very talented.”

  “Is he right?”

  She cocks her head at me as she places the canvas back on the easel.

  “Are you in love with me?” I ask, reaching for her hand.

  “Were you really going to tell me it was you who bought the painting?” she asks, avoiding my question.

  I nod. “Even if it meant losing you.”

  “Why? If you got away with it, why would you come clean?”

  “Because you don’t lie to people you love,” I say, looking into her eyes.

  “Are you done doing things behind my back?”

  Is she saying she’s willing to give me another chance? “I’m always going to want to help you, Whitney, but I won’t do anything without your approval first. If you’re willing to give me another chance... There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that opportunity.”

  She steps toward me. “No one’s ever invested so much in me without wanting anything in return. The fact that you did scared me.” She swallows hard. “I believe you did what you did because you love me.”

  My chest swells at her words. “I do.”

  “Ask me again,” she says, motioning to the painting beside us on Noah’s easel.

  I know which question she’s referring to. “Is he right? Are you in love with me?” I don’t breathe as I wait for her response.

  “Since I found you, I’ve felt safe at times when I should have been scared out of my mind. And I’ve also felt so defeated and broken.”

  My hope begins to diminish.

  “I only felt broken because I thought I’d lost you.” Her gaze meets mine. “I think I fell for you that day in the parking lot, and I know I knew it when you painted that brushstroke on the mural so you’d go down for the vandalism with me. But when you bought my painting...” She inhales a shaky breath. “I realize now that you were buying a piece of me; you were investing in my future because you believe in me. No one’s ever done that for me before.”

  I’ll do it now and every day from now if she’ll let me.

  “Yes, I love you, Alex.”

  I cup her face in my hands and bring my lips to hers. She kisses me back with such passion I know she’s forgiven me. More so, she understands that I did what I did out of love.

  We don’t pull apart until the door opens and Becky and Noah slip back inside.

  “We decided to start our lessons tomorrow,” Becky says with a knowing smile as she grabs their book bags.

  “See you then, Teach,” Noah says with a wave.

  They scramble out, smiling at each other.

  “Sorry for running off your first students,” I say.

  “They’ll be back.” She smiles. “Now where were we?”

  I dip my head. “I think right about here.” I press my lips to hers and pull her into my arms, where I intend to keep her from now on.

  The End

  Stay up-to-date on all of Ashelyn’s releases by subscribing to her newsletter: http://bit.ly/2pvYT07

  Also by Ashelyn Drake

  Reignited

  It Was Always You (Love Chronicles #1)

  I Belong With You (Love Chronicles #2)

  After Loving You (New Adult romance)

  Campus Crush (New Adult romance)

  Perfect For You (Young Adult contemporary romance)

  Our Little Secret (Young Adult contemporary romance)

  Writing as Kelly Hashway

  Lies We Tell (Lies We Tell #1)

  Secrets We Keep (Lies We Tell #2)

  Games We Play (Lies We Tell #3)<
br />
  Fading Into the Shadows

  Touch of Death (Touch of Death #1)

  Stalked by Death (Touch of Death #2)

  Face of Death (Touch of Death #3)

  The Monster Within (The Monster Within #1)

  The Darkness Within (The Monster Within #2)

  Into the Fire (Into the Fire #1)

  Out of the Ashes (Into the Fire #2)

  Up In Flames (Into the Fire #3)

  Acknowledgments

  I’ll keep this short because I’m pretty sure my support team knows how thankful I am for them. To my family, friends, editor (Patricia Bradley), social media manager (Amber Noffke), reader group (Kelly’s Coven), cover designer (Alyssa at Uplifting Designs), and readers, I couldn’t do this without you all. Thank you a million times over.

  About the Author

  Ashelyn Drake is a USA Today bestselling romance author. While it’s rare for her not to have either a book in hand or her fingers flying across a laptop, she also enjoys spending time with her family. She believes you are never too old to enjoy a good swing set and there’s never a bad time for some dark chocolate. She also writes speculative fiction under the name Kelly Hashway.

  For more information:

  www.kellyhashway.com