Every Time (Brush of Love 3)

Hailey

T he shower Bryan and I took together stayed at the forefront of my mind all night. The way he was insistent on washing me down and the way he soaped up my body with his own two hands threw us into another passionate lust that painted the whole of my shower. He pinned me against the wall and slid into me easily, t

aking it slow and steady while our paint swirled down the drain. His lips couldn’t get enough of mine while my hands gripped his shoulders, and my legs were wrapped around him before he pinned my knees to the wall. I didn’t even realize I was that flexible until he had attempted it. The crooks of my legs were bent around his forearms while he pressed his palms into the shower wall. The hot water was beating down onto our bodies, washing us clean while his body was hellbent on dirtying me up again. I was pinned to the wall, rendered motionless while my entire body was on display for him. His eyes darted around my body, watching our connection point while I slicked him up with my scent. He drew us both to another earth-shattering orgasm before we both slid to the floor. He held me in his arms until the hot water ran cold. His hands massaged my muscles while his lips peppered my neck and shoulder with kisses. He reached up to turn off the water before he carried me out of the shower. Then he set me down on the toilet before he reached for a towel. He dried me off, allowing his body to drip-dry for my own viewing pleasure while he wiped down every inch of my body. He was taking such good care of me, and in that moment, I felt another massive pull to tell him what was going on with me. He was proving to me right then and there that he could take care of me, and still, I didn’t want to ruin the moment. He laid me down in bed before he went to dry himself off, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up alone. I reached over to feel for him, wanting to cuddle closely with him before I had to get up to go to work. But he wasn’t there, and my heart sank. I rolled over and opened my eyes, scanning the pillow for any sort of note. I didn’t find one there, and it tugged at a part of me that ached to be with him, but the moment I got up, I saw something attached to the fridge. The smell of coffee was now beginning to waft to my nose, and that was when I realized I had a new coffee pot on my counter. And on the fridge was a note. Hailey, The last time we had coffee here, I didn’t have the heart to tell you that your machine was burning the coffee. I found this for you in a store. You can program it to brew coffee whenever you need it. Enjoy the strong coffee. I needed it this morning, too. Our painting was dry, so I rolled it up and put it in the corner. Hope you don’t mind. See you tonight?

Love,

Bryan

The smell of the beautiful black coffee was more than I could bear. I quickly made myself a cup and sat back on the kitchen counter, naked while I devoured the warmth of the caffeine between my hands. So, Bryan had stayed. He must’ve had a work emergency or something. I made a mental note to call him during lunch to make sure everything was okay with him before I continued on with my day.

I saw our painting rolled up and sitting by the door. All I could do was grin at the thought of last night. My joints still ached, but this morning, it was a good kind of ache, and for the first time in weeks, I felt truly alive like nothing could get in my way. I got myself ready for the day and lugged the canvas down to my gallery. I didn’t have a frame big enough to put it in, but I did have this blank space on the wall that separated my small store from my gallery. I rolled out the canvas onto the wall and used a step ladder to reach the corners, then I used double-sided adhesive to mold the sides to the cream-colored walls of my studio. It took me almost two hours to get it leveled, and I had multiple visitors offer their help, but once it was up, all I could do was smile. I sat on my painting chair by the window and simply marveled at it. The memories of last night came flooding back, and I could almost map out our movements on the canvas. Many people came in and admired it, talking about the way the black and blue swirled together so mesmerizingly. There were peaks and oversaturated areas of color that people were actually reaching out and touching, and I couldn’t help my grin as I nursed my hot cup of green tea. Never in my life had I felt quite as alive as I did last night, and I realized it was these sorts of things I needed to fill my life with. Well, the rest of it, at least. But then, as if life was intent on playing a cruel game with me, a debilitating headache grew over the crown of my head. I almost dropped my teacup, it came on so quickly, and I excused myself to the bathroom. I told everyone I’d be right back and that if they wanted to purchase anything, to put the tags on the counter. Then I barricaded myself in the bathroom and dropped to my knees. This time, I couldn’t keep the nausea at bay, and the green tea and the apple I’d had for breakfast came flying back up. The pain was horrendous. It was as if every cell in my body was ripping and tearing all at once. Tears streaming down my face while I continued to silently vomit in the bathroom of my art gallery, and the only thing I could pray for was that no one could hear me over the soft music and the whirling of the bathroom fan. When my stomach was empty, all I did was dry heave, my abdomen forcing everything up when there was nothing else left to push for. Tears streamed down my face while I closed my eyes, wishing the migraine would go away. My side started aching from all the dry heaving, and for the first time in a good while, I broke down and cried. I sobbed with my head in the toilet while everyone outside the door walked around and looked at my paintings. I sobbed for what my life had become. I sobbed for the fact that my family would watch me deteriorate. I sobbed for the life I would never get to live with Bryan, and I even sobbed for the children I would never have. I’d never given a second thought to having children, but now, I desperately wanted what I would no longer be able to have. After what seemed like an eternity, my headache finally began to subside. I flushed the toilet and pulled myself up to the sink, taking stock of the sweat pouring down my face. I turned on the cool water and rinsed my mouth out, washing my face with cool water and the hand soap I had sitting there for anyone’s personal use. I picked up a few paper towels and wiped myself down before I rinsed my mouth out one last time, and when the redness had faded and my eyes looked normal again, I ventured out from the bathroom. I expected to step into a room full of people staring at me dubiously, but instead, I stepped into an empty gallery. Devoid of life like my body would be soon. I sighed and made my way back to the cash register. I sat down on the chair behind the counter, my shoulders heaving with my sigh as I heard the bell above my door ring. I stood up to help the person who’d come walking in, hoping I could still redeem this day somehow, but instead, I was met with a familiar face. “Hello, Ramon,” I said. “My favorite artist. How are you doing today, Hailey?” he asked. “I’m doing okay,” I said. “What brings you in today?”

“I wanted to know if you had given any more thought to my proposal.” He flashed me that winning smile, and his skin seemed even more tan than the last time I’d seen him. His steely grey eyes were shining with unused promises, and the salt-and-pepper in his hair boasted of a sexual energy that seemed to simply follow him wherever he went. His unwavering stare was a little unnerving, but his stance seemed comfortable. His hands were tucked into his tailored suit pockets while his hip leaned against the counter. Like he was trying to prop up something he knew would eventually fall over. “Honestly, I’m flattered. But it’s not something I can do at the moment,” I said. “Hailey, Hailey, Hailey. I promise you this is the opportunity of a lifetime. You could become richer than your dreams ever afforded you.” “My art isn’t about riches, Ramon,” I said. “It’s about creating beau

ty.” “And you want to share that beauty with the world, do you not?” he asked. “Of course, I do. That’s what I’m doing now. That’s what I successfully did with the gallery showcase you came to.” “That was another artist’s work you were showcasing. Not your own. This art tour would not be something you could simply use to advertise other artists like you do here, which I admire by the way. Most artists I come into contact with would fill the walls of their studio with their own art instead of allowing other artists to infiltrate their space.” “It’s not an infiltration,” I said. “It’s a coming together and a bonding mechanism between two artists. It is possible for a population to enjoy more than one form of art.” Ramon nodded before he shot me a smirk and then pushed himself off the counter. He began to walk around the gallery again, taking in the new paintings hanging on the wall. But the mome

nt he turned around and took in the massive canvas I’d hung up this morning, I saw a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. And I knew that I’d been made. “Ah, I see,” he said. “You see what?” I asked. “The reason why you do not wish to leave.” He slowly approached the painting and studied it, his shimmering eyes dancing around the canvas while he took in every stroke. He raised his fingertips to the two dollops of paint off to the right, agrin cascading across his cheeks as his fingers stopped shy of their peaks. A wide smile crossed his face before he shook his head. Then he stuck his hands back into his pockets and took a step back. “If I had someone who could pull that kind of heated intimacy from myself, I’d be hesitant to leave them, too,” he said. I couldn’t help but flush at his comment, and it was then I felt his heavy stare back on my body again. “It is nothing to be ashamed of, Hailey. If this man, or woman, can bring you to this level of passion, I understand completely why you do not want to leave for an art tour in Europe,” he said. “He’s a very important part of my life, yes,” I said. “Well, he is also a very lucky man to have caught the eye and heart of such a profoundly beautiful woman.” I could do nothing else but smile and shake my head. “You are relentless, aren’t you, Ramon?” I asked. “I only pay compliments I mean to those who deserve them. And you, Miss Hailey, deserve them all.” “I’m simply waiting for you to put in your bid in case things go south with me and the handsome counterpart to this painting.” “Oh, trust me. At first, I was considering it. You are a beautiful woman who is incredibly talented and so full of life.” His words stung deeper than I knew he meant them to, and I had to control the tears rising up my throat.

“But the passion in this painting, I could never compete with the likes of that. A good man knows his strengths, but a great man knows when he’s met his match,” he said. “Wise words,” I said, grinning. “Hailey, I am willing to help you out with anything at any point in time in the future. I do not only respect you as a beautiful woman, but I also respect you as an artist. The world deserves to see your work, but they won’t get a chance to from this gallery. You might influence the West Coast if you are lucky. But the world deserves the haunted beauty in your paintings. Whatever it will take to make that happen, I am willing to do.” His words struck a chord in me that almost made me agree to his offer. Every time Ramon came into this studio, I figured he was in here simply to flirt. I figured he thought if he dropped the money he did on my paintings, then I would somehow come running to him and beg him to make my dreams come true. But I felt the gravity of his words while the truth of them smacked me across the face, and I had to physically bite down on my tongue to keep from agreeing right then and there. “You have my card,” Ramon said as he walked toward the door. “Give me a call if you change your mind.” “And like I’ve told you, I will if I do,” I said, smiling. He nodded at me before he left the gallery, and I was once again left alone. I sat back down on the chair behind the counter and took deep breaths, trying to settle my body down. While my head wasn’t swirling with anger and regret, there was still this dullache that was being pretty persistent. There were moments where I could forget about my condition altogether, and then there were moments like this when I could’ve sworn I felt it growing bigger and bigger beneath my skull, when I could’ve sworn I felt the tumor on my kidney pressing against my skin, and when I wondered how much time I had left and what I could do with my life in that short amount of time.

Then, the conversation with my doctor came flooding back to my mind. I knew the tumors were still advancing. At best, the chemotherapy shots and the immunotherapy were halting their progress, but they weren’t really getting any better. They might’ve shrunken a tad, but that’s why the doctor wanted to do the surgery. He wanted to remove any ounce of tumor he could before they slammed me with chemotherapy, hoping it would simply take care of the rest. And what if it didn’t? That meant I would be spending the last weeks or months of my life in a hospital with poison chiseling away at the very life force of my body. I’d be too weak to paint or eat. I’d be too weak to go out with Bryan or make love to him on a canvas. I’d be too weak to take walks along the ocean or run my gallery. I’d be too weak to experience the life I wanted to treasure before it was ripped from me. In my mind, surgery was useless. It was elongating the inevitable and carving a path for me to be miserable while doing it. Sure, I was miserable now, but it was peppered with moments of bliss like last night with Bryan on that canvas and then again in the shower. I could still have moments when I woke up to wonderful, thoughtful gifts like that coffee machine he’d bought for me. But then, what was the point of his gifts if I wouldn’t be alive to enjoy them? I didn’t know, and thinking about it brought on another headache. I placed my head in my hands before I got up to lock the gallery for lunch. Then, I grabbed my cell phone and settled back into the store. That little nook where canvases and paints and brushes were scattered along the walls to be sold had become my solace during lunch. I had a blown-up mattress I kept out in the shed, and I’d drag it in and lay it on the floor, so I could rest during my lunch. I scrolled through my phone and found Bryan’s number, and I debated on not calling him. I was in

a very vulnerable position right now, and I could see myself spilling my guts to him over the phone while the pain in my head washed throughout my entire body.

So instead, I set an alarm on my cell phone, decided not to eat lunch, and took a nap.

Chapter 21

Bryan

I

got a call early that morning about an issue that had developed on a jobsite. Apparently, one of the homeless men I’d hired had stumbled

onto the property drunk and started slinging his alcohol all along the sides of the frames of the houses. I had to get out there and survey the damage while the foreman held the man in his office, and by the time I got there, he was already sleeping it off. Thankfully, the foreman took it all in stride and informed me the wood had already been finished off, so all he had to do was wipe down the alcohol dripping off in the first place.

I told him to not cut any corners. If some of the wood needed to be replaced, I’d pay the guys for the overtime.

I hated time like this when I had to tell this person I wanted to help that I could no longer help him anymore. I sat there in the temporary office for the site as the workers started to show up, and by the time the man woke up, it was almost nine o’clock.

I had to sit there and tell him he was fired for breaking the rules, and he started sobbing over a night he didn’t even remember. He started babbling on about a cat and how he couldn’t find it and how some of his friends were jealous and shutting him out of groups or whatever, but there was nothing I could do. I drew two lines and two lines only with these guys, and I couldn’t be lenient with them. If I was lenient with one of them because my heart kept tugging in one direction, then everyone would expect me to make these types of decisions all the time. Projects would fall apart, my community outreach would be compromised, and the entire program could go down in flames. It killed every part of me, but I had to do it. I escorted the man back to my truck, and I drove him to an alcoholics anonymous meeting. I told him that he didn’t need to have a job to attend these meetings. I told him he would need to get his addiction under control before he could even think about improving his life circumstances, and all the while, the man was crying. He shoved his way out of my truck before I could try to console him, slamming it behind him before he started walking down the street. I couldn’t force him to go to the meeting, but holy shit, did I wish he would take the help. I sat in my truck and watched him walk all the way down the road. He turned a corner into an alleyway and disappeared, and everything inside of me wanted to go after him. I wanted to ask him what really happened. I wanted to know what had spiraled him last night. Suddenly, the passion I’d shared with Hailey was gone, and in its place was this overpowering guilt as I watched this man disappear down an alleyway. I had this sinking feeling that I’d never see him again, and the thought made me nauseous. I couldn’t go back to my office because the technicians were there. They were installing our entirely new electronic system, and my office was the last leg of their race. They installed everything into our temporary offices first. Then, they would program everything to run back into my office. I told the foremen I wouldn’t be making any rounds until we could use this new electronic system, and then I would make rounds physically one last time so I could walk them through how the system worked. It gave me enough time to calculate the kind of raise I could afford to give my foremen for the extra work this would put on them, but right now, I didn’t feel like running calculations. Right now, I needed to be around a friend.

I pulled away from the corner and drove all the way to Drew’s tattoo shop. I pulled up and admired all the progress that had been made, though I realized they still weren’t open. That meant something had probably stalled the progress, so I cut off my truck and headed on inside. Drew was there to greet me with a massive hug as I wrapped my arms around him. “Dude, you had to fire someone today, didn’t you?” he asked. “That obvious?” “You always look like a wounded cat when it happens, man. You know that shit isn’t personal. Sometimes people can't be helped.” “But this guy could’ve been,” I said. “They all could’ve been, dude, but they made their choices. How long was this guy workin’ for you?” he asked. “Five weeks.” “See? He wasn’t even new. He did it for five weeks, and he could’ve continued making good decisions. That one’s on him, even if you don’t want it to be.” I sighed, knowing good and well Drew was right. It was a hard thing to stomach, and it was one more point that was pushing me more and more toward the jo

b Ellen was offering me. At least with a job like that, there were no rules to abide by. If someone wanted help, they could reach out on their own, and other than that, our services were there for anyone in the homeless community to indulge in. None of this “obey my rules and you shall succeed” shit. Just decent, open-hearted help no matter the circumstance or reaction. “Things look good in here,” I said. “A topic change. I gotcha. Yeah, it’s coming together well. Hailey’s color scheme’s really panning out. I like it,” he said. “I do, too. The green is a nice and relaxing touch.” “Yep. It’ll be good for all those first-timer tattoo kids. They’re al

ways shaking with nerves.”

“I wasn’t,” I said.

“That’s what you think,” he said, grinning.

“I was not shaking with nerves when you did that tattoo on my back.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

“You’re a dick.”