Painted On My Heart

Arik’s father and uncle looked around, one spotted Trent, pointing him out to the other and they left the circle surrounding him. He couldn’t begrudge them their defection—Colt was probably a better choice.

“I can’t remember exactly where we were when you threw your fit,” Diana said, her excited gaze landing on Arik.

“Mom, you remember exactly where it was. We were in New York City at FAO Schwarz waiting for Santa’s arrival,” Arik replied, moving the story along, even lifting his hand, motioning for them to continue.

“Yes, dear, that’s it.” They all laughed as his mother patted his cheek. “Arik wasn’t near as impressed as everyone else. It was the first year that we were able to afford such a trip. Everyone was so excited. We waited in line for over an hour for our special meeting with Santa, and when we finally got to see him, Arik pulled out his prepared list of Christmas gifts. We talked to Santa for several minutes before he got overwhelmed with Arik’s extremely long list of demands—by demands, I mean Christmas gifts. He’s always been very thorough and thought a little bigger than the rest of the world. Anyway, Santa began to write Arik’s list down, and he spelled Arik with an E. Oh lord, you’d have thought Santa punched him in the face. He threw a massive fit right there in front of everyone, correcting Santa in the most critical way, explaining Arik had an A. He couldn’t let it go. He even refused the Christmas picture and stood to the side pouting as Gage got his picture with Santa. When we left, on the way out, he stopped several people telling them that Santa was a fraud, and he knew that for fact because of the spelling issue. Ever since then, he’s been A to us in order to make sure no one ever got it wrong again.”

After a second of Kellus listening to Arik’s mom, following along in the story, processing what he heard, he looked up at Arik who passively watched his mother, clearly not the first time he’d heard the re-telling of this story. Kellus started laughing. He envisioned a pint-size version of the man standing before him, the always polished and sophisticated Arik, throwing a fit over the odd spelling of his name. It didn’t surprise him at all that this man had had that reaction. It was that same standard that created everything around them.

“That’s a great story. I have a brother like that. I suspect they’re a lot alike,” Kellus said, still laughing.

“I don’t remember the experience, but I’ve heard the story no less than a thousand times throughout my life. I’m certain they’ve embellished,” Arik added, taking a drink from the cocktail glass in his hand.

“Oh no, not even a little bit. Opposite actually. It’s a good thing times were different. I could see my little man broadcasting the incident all over the social media, demanding retribution. As it stood, he refused to ever speak to Santa again,” she said, again patting Arik on the cheek. “He doesn’t let things go easily.” This time, Mrs. Layne looked back at Kellus like she was cluing him in to a big secret, making his smile grow.

“Mom, seriously, you’re the worst wingman ever. This whole family is. Why would I have ever thought all of us moving to the same town would be a good idea?” Arik replied, making a dramatic roll of his eyes.

The family laughed together, possibly another inside joke, but they were all hilarious. As the teasing went on with the family, his gaze connected with Arik’s and held for so long that Arik lifted his cocktail glass in his direction. It was a sexy, effective move. Kellus grew warm and couldn’t look away even if he’d wanted to. Being so lost in Arik made him miss the changing atmosphere around him. A hush gradually descended through the gallery until he noticed the startled faces of Arik’s mom and aunt from the corner of his eye.

That confused him…until they stepped apart and John appeared between the two of them.

His stomach dropped as his brain played catch-up. Heat burned his face with immediate embarrassment. John looked like shit, and all Kellus wanted to do was crawl in a hole and hide. Where the hell had he come from?

“Kellus Hardin is in the house! Look at you! My guy’s all the talk tonight.” John slurred his overly loud words, a devious smile spreading across his drug-hollowed face. It took a second for Kellus to even respond. John never stopped walking toward him, not until he was right in his personal space, wrapping both his arms around him, lifting on his tiptoes for a kiss. Not so long ago, Kellus would have automatically bent to accept that kiss. Those days were forever gone.