In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes: Chapter 54

A FEW MORNINGS LATER, I slid the last book onto the shelf in the secret library.

“Sadie.” Amusement flickered through Holden’s eyes as he sat back in one of the burgundy velvet chair. “You’ve been messing around with that book for ten minutes.”

I grinned, tilting my head and stepping back to study the bookshelf. “I know, but I want it to be perfect.”

His arms came to my waist and he pulled me into his lap. “Take a second to look at what you’ve created.”

I chewed my lip and took the space in. My gaze traveled over the floor-to-ceiling bookcases Holden had built, the soft lighting from the wall sconces, and the reading lamps arcing over the chairs. Natural light filtered in through the window and the door we had left open as we put the finishing touches on the room. A Persian rug with burgundy, navy blue, and cream stretched out over the hardwood floors. I inhaled a deep breath, basking in the warm coziness of the room.

“I love it,” I sighed. “It’s so freaking cool.”

It was mid-December. We weren’t finished the kitchen, dining room, or the bedrooms, but we could host a Christmas party in here and the sitting room, or New Years with all our friends and Holden’s family.

My gut tensed. I always spent New Years Eve with Willa and our friends. She knew I was staying in Queen’s Cove over the holidays but she didn’t know I was staying forever. I had been putting off telling her, because I had no clue how.

He tucked me further into his chest, distracting me from my worries. “See what you can do when you don’t hold yourself back?” he murmured into my ear.

My heart tugged and I turned to meet his gaze. “You built it. I just drew it.”

His mouth hitched into a warm smile. “We did it together.” He squeezed my hips. “We’re a team.”

I nodded, and my throat felt thick. My life was so fucking good with him. It almost didn’t seem real. I reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead, studying his handsome face.

“These have been the best three months of my life,” I told him quietly.

His gaze melted. “Me too, honey. I love you.”

Warm, sweet emotion twisted in my chest. “I love you, too.”

He turned to the window. “Sadie, look.”

Outside, snow began to fall on the forest, soft, slow, and breathtaking.

“Wow,” I breathed. “I thought it didn’t snow here very often.”

“It doesn’t. It’s usually too warm.” His low voice rumbled against my shoulder as we watched fluffy white flakes coat the trees.

“It’s like a sign.”

He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “What do you mean?”

I pictured Katherine sitting in the other burgundy velvet chair, staring out the window with us.

“I’m right where I need to be.”

THAT AFTERNOON, I sat in front of my easel in my painting room at Holden’s place, and took a deep breath.

If I hated it, I would throw it out and start again, I told myself.

See what you can do when you don’t hold yourself back? he had asked earlier that day.

I thought about Elizabeth’s words, about taking risks. I thought about the secret library and the bar in the woods and how impossible those ideas seemed until Holden made them real.

With Holden, I could do anything, and here in Queen’s Cove, I wasn’t such a failure anymore.

I swallowed, staring at the blank canvas.

Even if it sucked, Holden would probably fish it out of the garbage and put it on display at the local gallery. I smiled and rolled my eyes at the thought. That man.

At the edge of my conscious, all the you’re not good enough thoughts lurked, waiting for the chance to jump, but I held them back. I thought about Holden’s words for the hundredth time.

You’re okay.

When I painted people I loved, it strengthened our relationship. Painting Katherine had reminded me of all the things I loved about her. It made me feel so connected to her. Painting Holden had been like a religious experience between us. I allowed myself to study him openly and put him on canvas, show him how much I cared about him and how I truly saw him in the way I knew how.

I was still broke, but in three months, I had built a life here like Katherine did when she was my age, and I didn’t feel the burning sting of shame about Grant I once did.

It was time to forgive myself.

It was time to be okay, and a self-portrait was how I was going to do that.

I dragged my pencil over the canvas, sketching loose lines and shapes, until my figure took form on the canvas. The landscape behind me came next. As I worked, my mind settled. I sketched and mixed colors, letting my instincts take the front seat as I added tones to the mixes.

After a couple hours, I heard Holden’s truck pull up outside, and I sat back to study what I had painted.

My mouth curled into a soft smile. My throat clutched as I studied the painting of me in my yellow rain coat, standing on the beach, smiling. Hair flying in the wind, sky overcast and moody. Trees towering over me, sand stretching out to the dark ocean, waves crashing on the shore.

My life here was beautiful, and I was okay.

“Hi,” Holden said, leaning on the door frame with a pleased smile.

“Hi.” I gestured at the painting. “I did it.”

“You sure did, honey.” He walked over and wrapped me in a hug from behind.

I leaned back into his hard chest. “It’s not finished yet.”

He stared at the painting for a long moment before his gaze dropped to me. His hands rested on my shoulders and I met his eyes.

“What changed?” he asked in a low voice.

I thought back to years ago, when I was terrified to even start my own self-portrait. I filled my lungs and let the breath out as a sigh.

“I guess I know who I am, now. And I like who I am here with you.”

He squeezed my shoulders. “Nothing makes me happier than hearing that, honey.” He leaned down to press a kiss to my cheek.

“Me, too,” I whispered.