He ran his hands roughly through his hair staring up at the ceiling. From this angle, where I could see under his eyes instead of through, I suddenly recognized the look in his eyes. He was ashamed. I never thought that my actions would bring that on. The anger—I was prepared for—but humiliation, shame? I hadn’t been ready for that.

“That was your money, Capri. You could have put that money into making your dreams of a life in art a reality. It feels like you sold a piece of yourself for me, and I don’t like it. I don’t like that you did it, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

“How does it make you feel, Wes?” I asked hoping he’d admit it. I needed his honesty right now more than anything, and he needed his honesty.

“Like you’re sacrificing yourself to take care of me.” There it was.

“Why is that so wrong? Why is it so awful that I care about you so much, Wes, because I think it’s pretty amazing. I think it’s pretty freaking amazing that I feel so much more for you than my art. Those images I create, they’ve got nothing on what you’ve composed in my heart.”

“You shouldn’t have.” His voice began to fall.

“No Wes, you think I shouldn’t have because you’ve never let anyone close enough to make those sacrifices for you. It’s not a matter of what I should or should not have done. It’s what I wanted to do. I’m not like other the girls, Wes. You let me in.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he whispered.

“What?” I whispered back, but Wes didn’t say anything. “Tell me, Wes,” I said firmly but still could only force out a whisper. He said nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“Tell me I should have been just another girl to you.” Nothing. This couldn’t be happening. The pounding of my heart raced through my veins.

“Tell me you regret us.” He looked down into my eyes. Nothing. His silence spoke a million heartbreaking words.

I bit my lip to hold it all in then reached over and gripped the doorknob. I looked one last time at Wes, giving him one last chance to say something anything. Somehow, the silence was so much more painful than any words he could have spoken. He didn’t speak, though. When I nodded my head in surrender, I swore I saw him wince, and I swung the door open. He stalked past me quickly sending a rush of his air to grate against my bare skin.

With the clicking of my door, the hold my teeth had on my lip slipped, releasing it all. The hurt, the disbelief, the actual shattering of my gray heart piece by piece, it all fell from my eyes leaving salty pools on my lips. The sting of the fresh wounds from my teeth would never be enough.

Every day since that night has been Groundhog day. I woke up, I painted, I forced myself to eat, I painted, I avoided everyone, and I painted. As much as I felt the urge to paint him, I didn’t. I was too hurt to give him that part of myself anymore. Instead, I focused on more paintings for the possible hotel deal Bia told me about. She got in touch with me earlier this week and said the owner of The Bay hotel, one of the classiest in downtown San Diego, wanted to see a few more of my paintings focusing on the area before making a decision.

Each one that I had completed was a welcome distraction from Wes. The Spanish tile from Old Town kept me from checking my phone. A flame from a gas lamp reminded me how much his words burned, and the light from Cabrillo Monument filled my head with his voice telling me that I would find my way.

Okay, distraction wasn’t working in my favor, which was probably why I had my room covered in every single item of clothing I owned. Nothing felt right. I couldn’t find the right outfit to say ‘Hey, you may have stomped all over my heart, but I’m better than ever.’ It was a lie. He stomped my heart and crumbled my soul along with it.

I settled on a pair of black lacy shorty shorts and a white button up tailored boyfriend shirt with the top three buttons undone. I fluffed my hair in the mirror and puckered my lips with the latest swipe of lip-gloss. There I was, done up to blend in. I thought to quickly tie my hair into a loose bun and wipe off the gloss but forced my feet to vacate my bedroom. I had a bachelorette party to get to, and dammit, I was going to have fun.

“They had to choose a dance club, didn’t they?” Lennon complained, walking with me up to the entrance.

“You’re the one who told them Tommy’s was lame,” I reminded her.

“I hate dancing.” She handed her ID to the bouncer.

“So, don’t dance.” I gave him mine next and winced a smile at him when he blatantly checked me out.

“So what’s going on with you?” she shouted above the bass of the music. I shrugged. It was much too loud for me to explain what was going on with Wes and me. I didn’t want to talk about that here anyway. Tonight was about August and Kensie not about Wes and me.

We weaved our way in and out of the writhing bodies flashing in the lights. I spotted August and Kensie in the distance cuddled up on a white couch. No Wes.

“The mistress of ceremonies has arrived,” Lennon announced, parading into the VIP area. I followed giving Kensie and my brother each a hug.

“You look amazing,” I told Kensie, pulling away and admiring her mini skirt paired with a loose, jeweled tank.

“So do you.” She grinned and picked up a bottle of tequila on the table. “We have bottle service. What will it be?” she asked pouring more than a few shots into a glass.

“Um, more than just tequila, please?” I laughed. “Add something to that, will you?”

“Boo!” Lennon shouted grabbing the glass from my hand and downing it. All.

“Looks like we’ll cab it home.” I laughed and poured myself a glass of vodka and cranberry.

Not more than an hour later, Kensie and August were wrapped up in each other’s arms on the dance floor, and Lennon was rocking out in her own world in our lounge area. I guess tequila brought out her repressed love of dancing.

Wes still wasn’t anywhere in sight. I’d taken my place on the white couch slowly sipping on the drink I’d first poured. “Come on. Let’s dance.” Lennon grabbed my hand and tried tugging me up from the sofa. I shook my head and resisted, sitting further back into the couch. She gave up quickly and continued shaking her hips with her arms in the air and her drink spilling from her hand.

I had heard him before I saw him. His laugh boomed through the bass of the music straight to the anxious place in my stomach. How lovely for him to be able to laugh.

I scanned the room with my eyes only. I caught sight of him off near the bar. His jubilance mocked me in tiny snapshots between the flashing of lights. Talking with a group of people I didn’t know. Laughing. Waving his hands around in an animated story. Laughing.

I pinched my eyes together willing away the ache in my head brought on by the strobe lights. “Everything okay?” August sat down on the couch next to me watching the same thing I was.

“Yeah,” I lied. This was August’s night, and I didn’t want him mad at his best friend.

“Doesn’t look okay,” he called me on my fib and poured us each a drink.

“It’s just an argument, August. Not a big deal. We’re fine.” I coughed on the burn of the alcohol in my throat after a sip.

“You’re my sister, Capri. If he does, or is currently doing, anything that hurts you, I’ve got it.” He nodded at me to make sure I understood where his loyalty lay.

“Thank you.” I nodded toward Wes. “It’s fine, though. We’ll get it sorted out.” As much as Wes had actually hurt me, I didn’t want to take my brother from him. When he decided to deal with his pain, I needed August to be there for him.