Page 13 of Knot a Bad Idea
I laugh. “Coming from you, that would mean a lot.”
I call Donovan a fucking idiot every day.
But coming from Liam, the peacemaker?
Maybe, just maybe, Donovan would listen.
I feel slightly bad for leaving Liam alone with him while he’s more insufferable than usual, but when I head downstairs and find April waiting for me in the foyer, the guilt dissipates.
I have my girl to myself, and I’m going to treat her like the fucking princess she is.
“Holy shit,”she breathes as we enter the studio, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Yeah, it’s one of the first things we built whenAxtonwent public,” I tell her, closing the door after April gives me the okay to do it. “It’s one of my favorite places to be.”
That, and wherever she is, but that might make me sound a bit too obsessed.
The studio sits on the hills of Stone County, surrounded by redwood trees. Floor to ceiling windows give a glorious view of the homes in the distance, and at night, it’s breathtaking. The slanted ceilings have skylights that let sunlight or moonlight trickle in.
I fuckingloveit here.
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” April breathes. She looks to the far end of the studio, where a set of steps leads to a loft. “Is there a bed up there?”
I nod. “There is. And a bathroom further down. Basically, everything you need is here, as long as you bring snacks.”
“And I take it you brought snacks?”
“Of course. I’m always prepared when it comes to you, baby.”
She smacks my arm playfully and smiles. “Of course you are.”
I watch her take in the area, her eyes falling to the easels that face the view of the hills. “This is remarkable,” she murmurs. “But I thought Liam was the one that painted and you and Donovan sketch?”
“Liam is the big painter.” I take a step toward her, following her gaze out the windows. “But sometimes painting is a good release for me, too. I just come here to get away from everything and just create.”
“I would kill for a place like this,” she murmurs. “But for cooking and baking.”
“A private kitchen in the mountains?” I tease, and she looks at me, her vanilla scent sweetening with honey. Her eyes fall to my lips, then she speaks.
“I have daydreams sometimes,” she murmurs. “And I think they’re so stupid that I don’t even tell my best friend about them.”
“Nothing that you dream about could be stupid,” I say, taking a step closer.
She worries her lip and shakes her head, chuckling. “Yeah. Sure.” She turns her gaze back out the windows, a shadow crossing her features.
I’m ready to listen. I’m ready to hang on to every word she tells me. Any scrap of any fucking thing she wants to give me.
“When I was in that room…” her voice trails off, and her gaze stays fixated on the hills in the distance. “…the light in the room didn’t work. There were no windows. It was just darkness, all the time.”
I swallow. This is the most detail she’s given me since her panic attack at her house when I locked a door.
“I thought I was going to die there,” she continues, her voice devoid of emotion. “I accepted it.”
My chest aches.
“So, I started to daydream when I couldn’t sleep. I would be somewhere else, not in that filthy room with no light. I was in a bright kitchen, baking for my mom and friends. I was always there. I dreamed it up. A place with light; a warm kitchen with the sweetest scents.” She turns to me with a frown. “And don’t tell me that it doesn’t sound stupid. Dreaming about a fucking kitchen to keep myself sane? Dissociating, so I can bake cookies? How do you begin to explain that to someone?”
“The way you did to me,” I tell her gently.