Page 91 of Smash

The canvas was large, maybe five feet all around. At first, all I saw were dark strokes—deep blues and grays, thick black lines—but as I moved closer, the image began to take shape. A woman stood in the center of a city street at night, her back to the viewer, rain drenching her from the side, like the wind was blowing. Tall buildings rose on both sides of her, their windows lit like hundreds of eyes that didn’t see her at all. She was barefoot, her dress clinging to her legs. It was beautiful in a haunting way, evoking a feeling that settled in my chest almost instantly—loneliness, more than anything.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

Rafe moved closer behind me, but not touching. “It’s not finished.”

I took a step closer to the canvas. “Is she leaving?”

Rafe’s voice was quiet. “Maybe.”

“Or waiting for something?”

He paused. “I’m not sure yet.”

We stood in silence for a long time. Eventually, I turned to face him.

“I didn’t realize you painted like that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

His words weren’t cruel, but they weren’t warm either. There was a wall between us.

“I’m sorry, Rafe.”

His mouth tightened. “For what part?”

I looked down and shook my head. “All of it.”

“Yeah.” He dragged a hand over the back of his neck and glanced toward the painting. “Me too.”

He waited for a long time before speaking again. “What are you doing here, Talia?”

“I came to apologize.”

“That’s it? Nothing else?”

“And…I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You came down here barefoot at nine thirty at night, after nearly a week, because you wanted to make sure I was okay?”

I blinked. “I… I wanted to make sure we were okay.”

His eyes flashed. “There is no we, Talia.”

I took a step back, even though he hadn’t moved.

Rafe saw my face. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes. You did.”

He swallowed. “Maybe I did.”

Rafe went to the window and looked out. His profile was beautiful in the shadows, but he looked tired. Older. He shook his head. “I can’t believe I did this to him.”

“I did it, too.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right. He’s my oldest friend, my brother in every way that mattered.”

My stomach twisted. “Rafe—”