If Only

Chapter Thirteen: Midnight Canvas

JADE

I take a turn to face him and notice he's looking down, fumbling with his keys. It's an attempt to avoid the awkwardness that seems to be settling around us.

"Who?" I echo, hoping he'll drop the subject, but he glances up, avoiding my gaze. Instead, he focuses on the portrait in front of him.

I join him in examining the features of the woman's face on the wall. It's a portrayal of a middle-aged woman, gazing into space, with the composed air of a model holding a neutral expression. She's undeniably beautiful. Jared must have poured a lot of effort into bringing this piece to life.

"She was my mother."

His words make me turn to him, and in that moment, I feel a twinge of pain in my chest. I empathize with Jared as he likely reminisces about the memories his mother left him. But what strikes me even more is that he referred to her in the past tense.

"She's still your mother, Jared."

He merely shrugs it off, swiftly reverting to his usual self. The softness he briefly revealed vanishes, replaced by his protective armor. I'm left facing this side of him.

"Anyway, to answer your earlier question, since you seem to have so many of them... I don't actually live here. I stay at the studio with Richard and Dave."

I'm tempted to ask more, but I know if I push too hard, it's me who will end up hurting.

"I don't want to stay here... and I don't want any of my troops to find out I used to have this place. They'd discover a part of my childhood, and that's not something I want to share," he mutters, kicking an empty can of paint on the floor.

"I come here sometimes to vent my frustration... or to just... slowly destroy the place until it turns to dust, I guess."

As he speaks, my eyes shift to a hole and a crack beneath it on one part of the wall. I presume it's one of those times when Jared's anger gets the best of him, and the wall becomes the outlet for his rage.

Then my gaze lands on his fist, where scars peek out from beneath the rings he wears.

"...but if you tell anyone about this shit, I'll make your life shorter, you get that, kid?"

Annoyance surges through me at his condescending tone. I roll my eyes and let out a groan, moving away from the wall to find a place to sit. I spot a countertop and lean against it to support my weight.

I had considered this progress. We've gone an hour without shouting in each other's faces, and now he's reigniting the fire.

"Please, stop calling me kid," I whine, irritation tinging my voice.

He furrows his brows and scrunches his nose, leaning against the wall I had been staring at earlier, arms crossed.

"...because calling you 'kid' gives you enough reason not to kiss me?" His tone takes on a seductive note.

I try to shrug it off and shrug my shoulders at him, playing along with his teasing, my smirk betraying my intentions.

"Well... not only that, but... that's also one of the reasons why..." My voice suggests I'm willing to engage in his playful banter.

"That's what I thought." He winks and bends down to retrieve a sealed can of paint, opening it and searching for a brush on the floor.

"It's annoying, I guess. Pretty much as annoying to you as when someone calls you 'Andrew'." I meant it as playful teasing, not to mock Jared, but the way he drops the brush he'd just picked up, creating an uncomfortable clatter, makes me regret mentioning it.