Near & Far by Nicole Williams Read Free Book Online Page B

always came and found me. I’d grown so used to it, I’d almost started taking it for granted. I might not have been lost anymore, but I still liked Jesse Walker finding me. Even if it was only in a room of people.
    “What was your inspiration for this one? It’s exquisite.” The woman of the couple I’d been tuning out for . . . how long? interrupted my thoughts.
    I don’t know why I glanced over my shoulder at the painting they were staring at—I knew exactly what was back there—but I still did. “Um . . . well, I guess you could say . . . me .” I studied the painting for another moment then smiled. Displaying a picture like that, one that felt like such a window to my soul, made me feel like I was the naked person standing in the middle of a room of people staring and pointing. I didn’t do transparent, I didn’t like transparent, but I’d learned a lot about it from Jesse. I still wasn’t big on it, but for him, I worked at it.
    “How much is it going for?” the woman asked, lifting her expensive clutch like she was ready to fork out the dough right then and there.
    “You’d have to check with Jax on that.” I pointed at Jax, schmoozing it up with some richie-riches, decked out in his standard Jax attire. The guy dressed like he was an honorary member of the Rat Pack. He lifted his champagne glass when he noticed me. “He said there are several interested buyers, so he’s taking bids. Or something like that.”
    Truthfully, it was beyond me. When I’d painted that picture, I’d never intended it for anyone else’s eyes but mine and Jesse’s. The painting was more therapy, a healing journal entry, than a piece to be displayed and sold off to the highest bidder. When Jax and I were searching the art rooms in a crazed state earlier, praying we’d unveil some extra pieces I could display, he’d found it stuffed into the back of my storage area in the oil studio. He said it was brilliant and would have none of my pleas that it not be on display.
    Jax always seemed to get his way. Or maybe I just never did. Whatever it was, the painting I’d wanted to stay hidden was the highlight of the night.
    The woman grabbed her husband’s arm and nearly bolted in Jax’s direction.
    I loved art. I loved studying it, pondering it, and creating it. I didn’t, however, enjoy selling it. Or rubbing elbows with a bunch of people who’d spent more on their shoes than some families lived off of all year. It was part of the deal, though. Wealthy people didn’t want to buy just a canvas; they wanted a story to go with it. They wanted to meet, shake the hand, and share the story with the artist behind the canvas. They wanted a story to tell the rest of their country club friends when they came over and coveted the canvas hanging on their wall.
    Once Mr. and Mrs. Eager had scrambled over to Jax, I grabbed my phone and checked it. I didn’t know what I was expecting—there never had been or probably never would be any reception in that place—but that didn’t stop me from checking it for the four dozenth time in the past few hours.
    No signal. Big surprise.
    I blew out a frustrated breath and tried not to let my thoughts run away with me. The ones that suggested something had happened to him. That the brakes in Alex’s piece of crap car had gone out and they’d runaway down the streets of Seattle until the car sped into the dark water of the Sound. Or that Alex had taken a wrong turn, confused another old warehouse with the Underground, wandered inside, and been jumped by a gang of street kids.
    My mind was a runaway worry train. Loving someone as much as I did Jesse meant the darkness of the world seemed so black I never wanted to walk out the front door. Around every corner was some terror threatening to take away what I held most dear. I knew it probably shouldn’t be that way, but the world had become scarier since I’d let love back into my life. Scary because of the fear of loss. Of losing him. Of