Page 85 of Coerced

Ever the astute observer, Paxton didn’t hesitate to share what was on his mind. “I get the feeling, based on the way you answered, that you hadn’t been referring to the festival when you said you were never leaving. Care to explain what you were talking about?”

“Right. Well, as much as I have enjoyed coming here today, I was actually referring to Steel Ridge as a whole,” I shared.

Paxton’s brows shot up in surprise, a smile playing at his lips. “Is this… are you making this move official?”

“I think so.”

He studied me for a long time, his eyes dancing. Then, with a slight tug on my hand, he jerked his head to the side and said, “Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Once Paxton and I had gotten ourselves some cones, we sat down on a bench away from the chaos of the festival. And as I sat there beside him, watching everything happening around us for a few moments before turning my attention to him, my decision was solidified. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“It’s good, right?”

He was referring to the ice cream. “The ice cream is delicious, but I wasn’t thanking you for that. Although, I do appreciate it.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

In what would have been a shocking twist in any other scenario, but not while I was here with Paxton, tears filled my eyes. I could be vulnerable with Paxton, and he’d never exploit that.

When I swallowed past the tightness in my throat, I rasped, “You’ve made it possible for me to want to dream again.”

“What?”

I took another lick of my ice cream before it had the chance to melt down over the sides of the cone. “For the last year of my life in Birch Creek, I felt so beaten down and broken by things that happened. Regret consumed me for a very long time, and it still does if I allow myself to think about it. When things happened back then, I gave up my dreams I’d had my whole life, because what happened had crushed me.”

Pausing for a moment to take another lick of the icecream, I turned my attention to Paxton and saw the concern in his stare. As worried as he was, there was something encouraging lingering there.

It was that look in his eyes which made it easy to smile and continue. “From the moment I made the move here, I’ve felt revived. I’d been telling myself I needed this fresh start, but I hadn’t expected it would do for me what it has. I know I’ve lost parts of myself that I’ll never get back, but when I look on the bright side now, I’m getting new parts.” I let out a laugh and ate more ice cream. “That I’m sitting here telling you this is proof of those new parts. I feel safe to be myself with you. I don’t feel this need to hold back whatever is on my mind, because I don’t need to be the strong one when I’m with you.”

Still holding his cone in his opposite hand, Paxton reached out with the other hand and curled his fingers around the back of my neck. He offered a reassuring squeeze before his thumb stroked along the skin there. “I want to feel happy about this news, but there’s a part of me that is concerned. I don’t like knowing that you’ve given up dreams, Aria. What dreams?”

I couldn’t tell him.

Even if I thought I could share the truth with him about wanting to be an artist, there was no reasonable explanation I could come up with that would rationalize my decision to give it up without needing to tell him the full truth.

What would he think of me, then? A man as good as he was might not ever be able to look at me the same.

I hated that.

I hated that I couldn’t tell him the truth, but I didn’twant to risk losing him. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

And considering I’d already lost my family, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, too.

It would devastate me.

I didn’t have a single doubt that would be the case, because to this day, I had moments where I missed my family. They’d done wrong by me, and I still had love for them. Sure, I recognized I needed to love them from afar, but it didn’t change the reality.

Paxton hadn’t done anything wrong to me. He’d been nothing but wonderful. So, if I didn’t have him any longer, I knew I wouldn’t survive it.

Shaking my head, refusing to consider that as a real possibility, I said, “My old dreams don’t matter anymore, Paxton. It hurts to think about them. And honestly, I’m looking forward to having new dreams. Ones that result in me being here with you a year from now with your dogs dressed up in costumes.”

Though there was a hint of disappointment there, Paxton accepted my response with a smile. He gave my neck another squeeze. “I hope the day comes when you can talk to me about those dreams and not feel sad about them. We’ll make new ones for you. And who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll get those other ones back.”

Never.

I’d never do it again.

Painting would just bring back too many painful memories.