Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 1)

by Abigail Davies

  “Perspective,” she mutters under her breath, staring intently back at the painting.

  I watch her, not willing to look back at it. She’s fascinated with it, and I can’t help but wonder if she sees herself inside the painting.

  The way that the woman masks her sadness with her happiness has me overthinking everything. Is that the reason that Harmony agreed to come here? Because she wants to mask her sadness?

  My thoughts have me studying her closer, trying to see something in her eyes, in the way her lips move, but I can’t. She has a mask on; exactly like the woman in the painting.

  “Harmony?” When she doesn’t acknowledge me, I step closer, touching her arm and startling her. “Harm?”

  “Sorry,” she gasps. “Lost in the art as usual.” She chuckles to herself.

  I open my mouth to say something, but think better of it. We’re not who we used to be; I can’t convince her to tell me what is going on inside of her head. I don’t have that right anymore.

  She shakes her head lightly and smiles, walking toward the next painting and studying it in the same way that she did the last one.

  I don’t ask her what are in the paintings now though, instead, I watch her intently.

  I can see that she feels every single piece of art in a way that I’ve never seen before. She gets so caught up in them that she doesn’t even notice when Oliver Hunt stands on her other side.

  “I’m not sure whether it needs more color,” he says absentmindedly.

  Harmony doesn’t turn to see who it is, she answers with, “It’s an incredible piece.” She tilts her head. “I don’t know whether adding more would disturb the symmetricity of the shapes. It’d throw it off balance.”

  “Hmmm, I can see what you’re saying,” he replies.

  I take a moment to look at him. His dark brown hair sticks up in all directions, almost as if he’s been running his hands through it constantly. The paint splattered black t-shirt and jeans that he’s wearing makes him stick out like a sore thumb; if not that, then the white Converse also covered in paint certainly makes him noticeable.

  Harmony looks over at me quickly as if checking that I’m still here before turning to face Oliver. Her back goes rigid and her hands fly up to cover her mouth as a small gasp escapes her.

  “You’re…. you’re him… I mean… Hi!” Her face flushes red under the lights.

  Oliver grins and looks around. “Hi back.” He studies her and his eyes follow her hands when she drops them. “You’re a painter.” He says it like a statement.

  Harmony frowns. “I am, but… how did you know?”

  He reaches out and takes her hand in his which has my nostrils flaring and my feet moving closer to her.

  “Your hands, you still have paint here.” He grazes the side of her hand with his finger and my fists clench. Calm down, Tris. “Is this your husband?” he asks, turning his attention to me and dropping her hand softly. “I’m Oliver,” he says, holding his hand out to me—although I already know that from seeing his photo in the paper after one of his paintings was placed in a gallery in Rome.

  I place my hand in his and shake it, giving it an extra squeeze. His grimace lets me know that he felt it.

  “No, we’re… friends?” Her comment comes out like a question as she looks at me. I keep my gaze fixed on hers for several seconds before nodding reluctantly. “This is Tristan Carter, my friend.”

  Oliver frowns as he looks off into nothing and then his eyes widen. “The Tristan Carter?” I open my mouth to reply but he cuts me off before I manage to say a word. “You own Carter Enterprises?”

  “I do,” I say, my voice deeper than usual.

  “Ahh, man! I can’t believe you’re here looking at my art. Your software is the best on the market.” He opens his arms wide and spins around in a circle. “You see all these lights? They’re running off your Pearl software.”

  I raise a brow and look around. “They are?”

  “Yep,” he says, bouncing from foot to foot. “I have so many ideas for some new—” He stops abruptly and winces, turning back to face Harmony. “Sorry, you’re out with a friend.” The way he says friend makes me think he can feel that there’s more to it. “Can I call you and set up a business meeting?”

  “I—sure.” I shrug. “Call the office and we’ll get you in sometime.”

  He holds his hand out, only this time when he shakes my hand, he’s full of enthusiasm. “Thank you, thank you.” He shakes Harmony’s hand who is still standing there staring at him like he has two heads. “Nice to meet you…?”

  “H—Harmony,” she stutters out.

  He smiles before wandering off, fist pumping the air.

  “Well… that was… surprising.” I chuckle.

  “You… you just made arrangements to have a business meeting with the Oliver Hunt. Oliver Hunt is using your software.” She turns toward me, her eyes wide. “That’s amazing. My mind is officially blown.”

  I snort and shake my head. “It’s nothing.” I shrug it off, but even I know that it’s a big deal. Having someone like Oliver using our software will pave roads for us that could change my whole company. “Have you seen all the paintings?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “I have. He has an incredible mind, I’d love to have one hanging in the studio.” Her gaze flits back to the first painting before she shakes her head. “Maybe someday.”

  I study her for a beat before saying, “I’ll give Edward a call.”

  Taking her empty glass from her, I place it on one of the tables that are scattered around along with my empty glass. I start to walk away but her heels clicking on the floor behind me have me coming to a halt as I turn around to face her.

  “I’ll come with you, I could use some fresh air,” she states.

  I smile and nod, holding my arm out for her. She tucks her hand into the crook of my elbow and we walk through the vast space and out into the cool night air.

  Pulling my cell out, I shoot Edward a message telling him we’re ready for him to pick us up. However much I don’t want this night to be over, I know that I’d be pushing my luck if I asked her to dinner or for a drink. We’re trying to get to know each other all over again, and it means that I need to tread carefully so I don’t get too far ahead of myself.

  When I pocket my cell, I lift my head and see her standing under one of the lights as it pulses to the beat of the music, which I now know is running off my company's software. Her eyes twinkle and I can’t help but get caught in her stare. She’s always had a way of pulling me in like no one else ever could.

  My feet are moving toward her before my mind even registers it, her chest rising and falling as her breaths become faster the closer that I get.

  “Tris—” I press my finger against her lips, her gasp audible as her breath skates across my finger.

  My gaze drops down as I track a path along the outline of her bottom lip. So soft, so plump. My muscles tense as I remember how they used to feel against mine and I step closer to her, not able to pull myself away even if I wanted to.

  Her head tilts back, our chests nearly touching as the lights flash overhead, dancing over her features. I move my hand and trail my finger over her cheek and down her neck where I place my whole palm, cupping it. Goose bumps prickle her skin and her eyes darken, changing color like they used to all those years ago.

  I search her eyes and she moves forward slightly, giving me all the permission that I need to slam my lips down on hers.

  As soon as they connect, I groan, my hand moving from her neck and into her hair, grasping it as my other hand snakes around her waist, pulling her flush against me.

  Her answering moan has my tongue swiping along the seam of her lips, asking—begging—for entrance. She opens them up, allowing me in and I drag my tongue against hers, groaning at the feel of it. Her hands grip my biceps as I deepen the kiss, trying to pour everything I’ve been feeling for the last ten years into it.

  I move forward a step, trapping
her against the wall as her tongue grazes mine and she pushes her hands into my hair, having to stand on her tiptoes so she can reach.

  The longer we kiss, the slower it turns. It’s not as desperate as it was at first, and now I know that she wants me as much as I want her. The pulling on my hair and the moans coming from her attest to that.

  My hands start to wander of their own accord as she swipes her tongue leisurely against mine for a second time. They follow the delicate curve of her spine and down to her ass where I pull her impossibly closer, letting the pads of my fingers dig deep into the soft flesh.

  My heart beats like a drum in my chest and I pull away slowly, my gaze meeting hers as her eyes flutter open. I stare into their depths, finally ready to admit—not only to her, but myself too—why I was at the adult class.

  “You want to know why I was there that Friday?” I ask, my voice deep.

  “I…” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, making me want to do the exact same thing to them. “What are you—”

  “That’s why.” I pause for a beat, my hands moving to cup each side of her neck as I move so close my nose touches hers. “Because it doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing; I always come back to you.”

  “But—”

  I don’t let her say anything, slamming my lips back down on hers, telling her with my actions how much I’ve missed her; how much I wish I never walked away from her and caused the devastation that I did.

  I push my hips into her stomach, showing her how much she affects me before she pulls away, her breaths now pants as I stare into her sparkling eyes. Neither of us look away from each other as I settle my forehead against hers.

  “Tristan?” a voice calls and I straighten up, turning my head slightly to see Edward waiting in the car ten feet away.

  “I guess this non-date has turned into a date,” she says breathlessly.

  “I guess it has,” I answer, my voice gravelly and deep.

  She smiles big and bright as I pull back slightly, watching her expressive eyes, ready for the doubt to set in. But it doesn’t; all I see is want and happiness.

  She lets her head rest against my chest and I wrap my arms around her, basking in the feel of her back in my arms. “Let’s get you home,” I say before turning around and putting my arm around her waist, leading her toward the car and opening the door for her.

  I unwrap my arm from around her and let her slide into the seat before she looks back up at me, smiling. That smile has my soul singing and a piece of my heart slowly slipping back into place.

  I don’t know what will happen from here, and if I was the person that I used to be, I’d overthink every little thing. But I’m not that person now. There’s only two things that I’m sure of: that all we can do is take this day by day, and that I want her with my entire body and soul.

  Paolo Nutini—Last Request

  Ed Sheeran—Perfect

  I hum a soft tune to “Baby F” who is lying on my chest, smiling like an idiot.

  “Last night must’ve been some night,” Mom states.

  A grin creeps up my lips. “Mmhmm.”

  Her answering smile has me blushing. “It’s good to see you happy again. If he makes you happy, then you have my blessing.” She pauses, a tight smile on her face. “But… like I said last night, be careful, sweetheart.”

  I nod in acknowledgement, closing my eyes and remembering the look on Tristan’s face before he stormed toward me with purpose and pushed his lips against mine. People always talk about fireworks going off, but this was that tenfold. It was like an atomic bomb exploded and my whole body melted as our bodies collided again after all of these years. Everything that had happened in the past was forgotten about and all that mattered was the two of us in that moment.

  My fingers brush my lips, adamant that I can still feel his lips against mine and his slight stubble grazing my chin. A shiver rolls through me at his words on the way home.

  “This is it for us, Harm. It was always meant to be us.”

  It’s hard not to think about the way that he left me and all the harsh words he said, but we were so young, not thinking of the consequences. It was so long ago now that I’m starting to wonder if it even matters anymore, but I know deep down that it does. I’ll have to bring it up at some point and I think he knows that, but not right now, not when we’ve only just found each other again.

  “Can I steal him from you? It’s time for his checks.” I open my eyes to a kind, smiling nurse.

  “Of course,” I reply, giving one last squeeze and a gentle kiss to “Baby F’s” forehead before handing him back.

  It still stings handing him back; he’s been the only baby I’ve cuddled since I started here, and he’s coming on amazingly. They’ve said he needs a few more weeks of monitoring but then… I don’t even want to think about him going into the system, it breaks my heart. I was told on day one to not let myself get attached, but how could I not?

  Mom hands her baby off to a waiting nurse and stands, saying her goodbyes to the nurses we’ve started to build a relationship with before turning toward me. “Are you ready to go?”

  I take one last look at the cooing baby in the incubator beside me and smile. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go and grab some lunch.”

  We change out of the scrubs we’re wearing and toss them into a laundry basket as we walk out of the door.

  My cellphone rings and I stare down at the unknown number on the screen, pressing answer. “Hello?”

  “Hi, is that Harmony? Harmony Jameson?”

  I don’t recognize the man’s voice on the other end of the line so I’m cautious. “It is.”

  “Oh, great. I’m standing outside of your studio right now, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone here.”

  “Oh, we’re not open on Sundays, but we’ll be open at nine tomorrow morning. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Yes, actually there is. I have a delivery for you of somewhat importance.”

  On a Sunday? “O—okay. I can make it there in fifteen minutes if you can wait?”

  “Sure.”

  I breath out a sigh of relief and say goodbye before hanging up.

  “Who was that?” Mom asks.

  “A guy saying he has an important delivery for me. We’ll swing by the studio quickly and then go to that café around the block if you want?” We climb in the car and she nods before we make our way toward my studio.

  I park outside and tell my mom to wait in the car, but obviously she never listens and steps out with me. I see the man leaning up against the wall outside of the studio, playing on his cellphone and I freeze. What the—

  He looks up as we approach and smiles. “Harmony. Thanks for coming right away.”

  My mouth forms an O but no words come out as I stare in shock.

  Mom nudges me from behind. “Harmony, you’re being rude.”

  “I, erm…” I clear my throat and stick out my hand, ready to greet him properly. “Mr. Hunt, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  He pockets his cellphone and shakes my hand. “Please, call me Oliver; Mr. Hunt’s my dad.” Then he gestures to a van with two men sitting inside for them to come out. “Pleasure’s all mine, I assure you.”

  The men climb out and open the back of the van, carrying what looks like a projector and electrical equipment.

  “Where do you want it?” one of them asks with a grunt as he nears us.

  “I… I’m sorry, this must be some sort of mistake. I didn’t… I haven’t…”

  Oliver looks at my mom who shrugs, making him chuckle. “Ah, this makes more sense now. If we can let the gentlemen inside, then I can explain properly? I don’t mean to rush you but I have inspiration swirling around my head and I need to get back to my studio.”

  I start walking toward the door, pulling out my keys. “Yes, of course. Come in.”

  We all step inside, the men putting down the equipment and going back out for more.

  �
�I’m guessing your… friend didn’t tell you about this.” He walks over to the two men who are carrying a large rectangular object wrapped in cloth. He motions for them to rest it up against the wall and then pulls out a pen knife, flipping it open and cutting the string holding it all together.

  The material unravels and I gasp when I see what it is. “That’s…”

  “Yours now.” He grins. “I’m here to help set it up, but it’s all yours.”

  I can’t formulate words as my mom sidles up beside me and gazes over it. “Tristan bought you a painting?”

  “Apparently so.” I look up at Oliver. “I’m sorry, did you say you were here to set it up?”

  He nods as he types something into his cellphone. “Yup, he paid for the whole package.” He pockets his cellphone and claps his hands. “So, where do you want it?”

  I look around the room, but there’s no way I’m hanging an Oliver Hunt original in reach of the kids. “Upstairs, that’s my personal studio.” He nods and motions for the men to take everything upstairs, following closely behind them. “Oliver, I’m a little speechless. Are you sure Tris—Mr. Carter wants this here?”

  He reaches the top of the stairs and whistles, spinning around. “This is a quality space you have here. Wow.”

  I smile at his compliment. “Thank you, I’m pretty lucky to have found it.”

  He nods. “And yes, Mr. Carter specified it be brought and set up here.” He points to the only blank wall to the right of the studio. “Over here would work.”

  “I think… Yes, you’re right, it would look perfect there.”

  He instructs the men on what to do and gives me a rundown on the lighting and software. “But Mr. Carter can tell you more about the software and help if something happens.”

  He has a knowing look on his face as he says, “Mr. Carter,” and I blush, looking over at Mom who hasn’t stopped smirking since we first arrived.