Every Day (Brush of Love 2)

I pulled out of the parking lot and drove myself on home. I passed by all the carved pumpkins and the few trees that peppered the coastline that were beginning to die off. The ocean was driving its icy waves upon its sandy shores, threatening to freeze the shells children had picked at all summer right in their spots. During the fall and winter months, time seemed to stop in coastal cities. If you closed your eyes and listened, you could hear the city yelling for its youth. You could hear it craving the attention of its beloved tourists.

I pulled into a sanded-over parking lot and grabbed the coat from my back seat.

I wrapped it around my shoulders as I got out. The wind was harsh, and the weather was cold, but I wasn’t quite ready to go home. My boots carried me out into the sand, nearer to the water that threatened to freeze the whole of the coastline in its place. I breathed in the cold, salty air, allowing it to sting my throat as tears rose to my eyes. The stars twinkled off in the distance as the blackness of night hung heavily in the air, and for once, I simply allowed my sadness to take over.

Tears poured down my face, leaving behind tattered trails of memories as my body shivered with the cold.

I could feel the tendrils of my black hair blowing in the breeze. It had grown out, down to my earlobe so I could tuck it back. I kept it out of my face with colorful bows and bobby pins, but deep down my soul was as black as the dye I’d placed in it. Bryan had come into my life with a fire raging in his soul, breaking up the bleakness I’d felt in mine for so long. How ironic it was that I wanted to blast out the darkness by ignoring my own. How ironic it was that I was trying to shine my own pathetic candle of hope and happiness into a concavity as great as this entire town when the man I thought was filled with darkness was really raging with the light I wished to have.

His soul had been set on fire with his brother’s death, a fire that was determined to blast through the harsh memories and try to pull something out that was beautiful.

All I had done was run and sob and wallow. I’d accused Bryan’s darkness of eating him whole, not realizing until this very moment that it was my darkness eating us both whole.

He deserved better, and right there and then, I convinced myself he was gone.

My beloved Bryan, who had stolen my heart and captured the candle of my soul, was gone.

Chapter 7

Bryan

I sat on the couch in my boxers with a beer hanging from my hand. I kept staring at that picture sitting on the chair, still not knowing what to do with it. My parents would probably spit on it or some shit, but hanging it up felt like giving a victory over to Hailey. She had tainted something good that connected me with my brother. She had lied, she had manipulated, and now she had sprayed herself all over the one thing I had that was still innocent. She’d come into my life and put her grimy fingers on it.

I tipped the bottle of beer up to my face as my eyes studied the cabin painting and the way the long, languid brushstrokes would’ve taken a steady hand, the way the straight lines would’ve taken time to formulate, the way the intricacies of the paintings would’ve taken a keen eye and a clear head. All the attributes of the painting screamed of someone who was sober, and I felt an anger bubbling up inside of me.

I was angry that Hailey got part of my sober brother.

He’d been sober I don’t know how many times, but when he was sober, he was always off doing his own thing. When he was high, I saw him a great deal. He never asked for help, but he always wanted support. When he was clean, however, he was always in L.A. doing his own thing instead of asking for more help. I could’ve set him up. I could’ve moved to L.A. and helped keep him clean. I could’ve had my brother back had it not been for my selfishness and his unwillingness to reach out. It would’ve been easy to drop that business in L.A., and I should’ve done it.

There would’ve been so many more paintings like that one had I done that.

I finished off my beer before I set the bottle down. The room was starting to spin, and I closed my eyes to breathe. I still fucking missed her, and I hated myself for it. I couldn’t bring myself to do a one-night stand because I was too vulnerable to do it. I’d probably get attached to some random girl who’d fuck me over again like Hailey had, but I still didn’t have the guts to go over to the gallery and talk to her. I was angry, depressed, frightened. I didn’t want to start asking questions because I wasn’t ready for the truth about my brother that she’d kept from me for weeks.

I opened my eyes, and for a second, I thought she was there. I could smell her perfume and see her hips swaying, and I cursed my body for craving her the way it did. My cock rose its painful ascent underneath my boxers as I sat there, trying to get my brain to stop reliving her, missing her and needing her.

She was a liar who’d used me for nothing more than her own personal and nefarious purposes. She was lonely, so she’d used my body. She needed a gallery, so she’d used my skills. She needed to assuage her own guilt for having a hand in killing my brother, so she tried to save me, talk me through my grief, shine whatever idiotic light she thought she had into my heart. She meant to save me to make up for not being able to save my brother.

It was her fault he was dead.

Suddenly, there came a knock at my door. I groaned and got off the couch before I stumbled my way over to the door. The room felt like it was shifting as my mind undressed Hailey, bringing to light her salivating curves and her tantalizing skin. Even when I was piss drunk, my body still wanted her, and as I ripped the door open, I gazed upon the sight on my porch.

Hailey, with her black hair and her paint-stained pants, was here at my house.

She looked beautiful as ever, and I cursed myself for even thinking it. Her black hair had grown out beyond her earlobes, which was enough for me to fist between my fingers while I plowed into her from behind. Her reddened cheeks boasted of a long workday, which meant things with the gallery were going well. My drunken eyes scanned her body, taking in her beautiful breasts and her luscious hips. I wanted to plant my fingertips right into her curves and bury myself in her warmth again.

My eyes grazed back up to her, no doubt bloodshot from all the alcohol. Hailey was smiling at me, ecstatic that I’d opened the door. I should’ve checked the damn peephole. I should’ve looked out the window. Hell, I should’ve just gone up the fucking stairs and slept this drunken stupor off.

But now that she was here, Drew’s words started to ring out in my head.

Hate sex. Fuck her out of your system. Move on.

“Oh my gosh, Bryan. I’m so glad you opened the door. We really need to talk. Could I come in?”

I grabbed her arm and pulled her inside while she squealed. I slammed the door shut and turned around to her, suddenly no longer approving of the amount of clothing she was wearing. I took to work, uncovering her body as my hands sloppily ran across her form, but she grabbed my hands to stop me.

“Bryan, no. We need to talk. Bryan!”

My lips slammed against hers, silencing her, and I felt her grow weak in her knees. Her hands flew around my neck, clawing at my bare back as my hands continued to rip off her jeans. I didn’t give a shit about her top, nor did I care what happened to her panties. All I knew was I had to get her out of my system.