Dust (7 page)

"What's your gut tell you?"

There was no doubt how to answer that. "She should stay away from him. I know first hand how quickly he can turn on someone who trusts him."

"I'm not sure if she'll take my warning. Can you talk to her?"

I refrained from cringing, but just barely. "Er, the thing is, Jewel and I, um..."

"She told me y'all hooked up," she said, looking away. I felt like a bastard, but I wasn’t sure why. I'd always been nice to Jewel.

"Yeah. We did. It was a long time ago, but I'm not sure I'm the best one to warn her away from other guys." I didn't want Jewel to think I was jealous or anything.

"I'll talk to her. Not sure how much good it'll do. Not that I'll tell her why you don't get along with him," she said quickly. "That's none of her business."

And now she was worried about me. I wasn't sure how to process that. If I were trying to get into her panties, I'd turn on the charm. But that just made me feel as if I were a first-rate asshat. Besides, I didn't want to. I wanted to keep things honest between us. Keep things real. I didn't want any of that bullshit that clouds people into thinking they had to play by certain rules to get certain things.

I just wanted to be.

"I appreciate that. Gabe and I don't even talk about it. It's the proverbial pink elephant with us."

"Understandable." She sipped her coffee, and I took the cue to pick up my cup and down the rest of the tepid liquid. "I need to head out. I've got my own paper to write." She chuckled.

"Sure. Thanks for helping me. You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

She closed her laptop and stuffed it into her backpack along with the other items she'd dragged out earlier. "You'll never know how much you've helped me, too," she mumbled, not looking at me. If I hadn't known she was talking to me, I'd have thought she was muttering to herself. I looked at her, but she was avoiding eye contact as she stood. I knew from the few times we'd been around each other that she was naturally a shy person, and it was times like this I shouldn’t push her. Normally, my asshole self wouldn't care about something like that, but this was different.

She was different.

Yeah, she was different, but I wasn't going to put any label on her other than friend. Maybe that was the only reason she was different.

Maybe not.

"
H
ow are
you doing at school?" Mr. Noble asked as he sat across from me looking relaxed. God, only two more of these damn sessions to go.

"I'm at school now sitting with you. I think I'm doing good, but you're more qualified to answer that."

There went that pencil, scribbling something that would go in my permanent file. I wanted to reach across his desk, snatch it away, and break it.

"You know what I mean, Killian," he finally said. Yeah, I knew what he meant, but I never knew how to answer his questions. This had been our song and dance from the beginning. I saw no reason to change it.

"I'm not sure that I do, Mr. Noble. If I guess incorrectly and start rambling on about something unrelated to what you intended, then you'll start writing something in that notebook, and then hone in on why I mentioned something that I could've avoided. I like it better when you're specific. No room for error then."

Without looking up at me, he said, "There are never any wrong answers in here."

Damn. I knew that, too.

When I didn't say anything, he looked up. "I only ask questions to get you talking about things you prefer to avoid. Addressing those issues is why we're here. If you're compelled to talk about something, it's never wrong."

"I always want to talk. You know it's part of my hyperactivity. It's easier for me to fill the silence than fight that urge."

He smiled. "I know. But this is really twofold. When you talk about things you'd rather not, you're working through stuff that bothers you. When you're being quiet, fighting the urge as you say, you're working on the hyperactive part of your personality. Progress doesn't have to be major to be made."

I so didn't like this man. Especially when he was right. "Things are fine at school. Really," I finally answer.

He looked down at his notebook, jotted something, and then focused on me. "Have you had any interactions with Gabriel?"

I sighed. "Yeah, but not the physical kind. He was at the fundraiser last weekend."

"Did he do or say anything to provoke you?"

"Always."

He looked wary. "Did anything happen?"

"No. He's an asshole. I know he is, and I know there's nothing I can do to change that. Believe me, Mr. Noble, I learned my lesson." I would do my best to never be provoked by him again. That didn't mean I didn't want to hurt him in the worst way, but deep down, I knew Gabe wasn't worth it. At least not worth damaging my education when I was this close to being finished. Now after graduation...that was a different story. No way was I going to put up with his shit if he started anything once school was over. But I hoped I'd never see him afterward. If I didn't, problem solved.

"So you were the bigger man. Good."

"Being the bigger man sucks."

He chuckled. "I know. But it's part of being an adult."

"Being an adult doesn't automatically make you good.” My father had been one sadistic son of a bitch. Age hadn't quelled his immoral tendencies at all.

"Your father was a bipolar man off of his medication. I've read reports that also suggested he was an undiagnosed schizophrenic. That doesn't make him evil. It makes him a sick man who didn't seek out the help he needed."

We'd talked about this before. It didn't change what I'd been through. "Don't sugarcoat him to me. I know how he was."

He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "The point is, you are not him. You are your own man. The best way to exorcise your demons is to realize
you
control who you'll become. Not him."

It sounded nice and all, but I just didn't agree with him. Not completely. Yeah, I controlled who I was, but I was able to do that by understanding who I'd come from. That man's blood was in my veins. I was created by him. I could never forget that.

"Was your mother evil?"

I glared at him. "No. She was wonderful. She had her problems, but she was a beautiful, compassionate woman. Just because she got mixed up with that man doesn't mean she was like him."

"Exactly."

My shoulders slumped. "I see what you're getting at. But I—"

"No, Killian. You don't understand. It takes two people to make a baby. She's as much a part of you as he is. Why are you so focused on your father's role in creating your life instead of giving your mother any credit?"

"I..." But I didn't know what to say to that. He had a point. A good one. It didn't change the fact that my father was a crazy man; his DNA was a part of me, but so was my mother's. Maybe the good in her helped keep the beast within me leashed. It was plausible. If I were 100 percent evil, there'd be no logical side to me. Yet, I usually never acted before thinking. Gabe and I had horrible baggage, and he knew just how to provoke me. His case was unique to my regular interactions with people. I still had a short temper, got pissed too easily, but I didn't just attack people out of the blue. There was a side of me that fought those urges. Not necessarily a good side, but a decent one. "I get it, Mr. Noble. I do."

He nodded slowly, relaxed his arms, and picked up his pencil. "Any encounters with women over the last week?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business." My response was met with a quirked eyebrow. "Fine. Yes."

"And you still don't want to see a woman regularly?" He was back to looking at what he was writing.

Why did Liv's face come to mind just then? Technically, she was a woman and I did see her outside of the classroom. But we weren't intimate. "I made a female friend. We're just friends though," I said quickly.

That got his attention. "How did that come about?"

I could go into all the details, but I knew he would pick them apart. I'd need to keep this as condensed as possible. "She's a transfer student who needs help in art and is going to help me with my research paper because she's a writing major. In fact, the first time we met to work on it, she had an awesome idea on how to tackle the paper."

"Interesting."

Fuck, I knew he'd read too much into it.

"Do you like her?"

I looked at my phone to see how much time I had left of this. Too long. "Sure. She's nice. Different."

"Different how?"

Why the hell had I called her different? Of course Mr. Noble would lock onto that word. His knack for picking apart my words was disturbingly accurate. "She just is. She's a friend," I reiterated. It was nice texting with her. She was easy to talk to.

"There's nothing wrong with having female friends, Killian."

"I know that." But why did he feel the need to tell me this?

"Do you?"

Great, back to the mind game that was psychology. "Yes. I know it's okay to have friends of any sex. I just don't want to ruin our friendship with anything intimate."

"You're not attracted to her?"

"I didn't say that." She was plain but pretty. Then again, the female form was a beautiful thing, and I liked that she didn't flaunt how beautiful she actually was. "But that's not the point."

He stared at me, not saying anything. Finally he nodded. He wrote something down, but I didn't care. As long as he was going to drop the subject of Liv.

"How's your home life?"

I leaned back and rubbed my thighs. "Not good. Granddad is having a rough time. I don't think he has much of it left, actually. He's been talking about some guardian angel coming to save me." I shook my head. "And he's been hiding Grandma's ashes almost daily now. Even hid her outside. I called some nursing homes to see how I should handle this. Their advice was to either hire a nurse or enroll him in an adult day center. I like the day center idea because he'd be around other people his age and maybe find new hobbies, but he's a very private man with a lot of money. I don't think his pride would handle a daycare for old people." I'd called a few companies who specialized in in-home nursing care, and actually found one that would care for him and find ways to get him out of the house and around people his age without him being stuck at a center all day. It was expensive, but the better option.

"Killian, the fact that you take care of your grandfather shows how good of a person you are. If you ever doubt yourself, I want you to think about him. And remember your mom. There were and still are good people in your life. Focus on the positive. Don't give your energy to the negative."

"I'll try." And I would, but I wasn't going to make any promises.

* * *

I
swirled
my brush in the red paint for the next stroke of color. The painting I'd been working on this semester was abstract, but taking on a beauty of it's own. It still represented death. Most of my abstract work signified it in one way or anotherto me. To others, they were whatever they wanted the pictures to be. That was what made abstract work perfect. It forced the person studying it to find his own interpretation of the same piece of art. Meanings were endless. Maybe I was more abstract than I'd always believed. My recent session with Mr. Noble had stayed with me much longer than any of the others. It was if this time I wanted to believe a better facet of me would prevail over the ugly ones.

I dipped my brush in the cleaning solution and wiped it off. I wasn't finished with it—or my internal thought process on what it might represent—but Liv would be here any minute to work on her art project before class. I didn't want to waste any time with my stuff when she got here. By the time I'd put the last of my brushes in the canvas carrier she'd walked into the art room.

Mrs. Sutherland always left this room unlocked during her office hours, so I'd come during the period before our class to get a head start on my work. Since I was the only one who was ever here during this time, I knew when I chose this place Liv and I would be able to get some work done without interruption.

"Hi," she said and dropped her backpack by the easel next to mine.

"Hey, how's it going?"

"Okay. How's your paper coming along?"

I started to tell her I'd finished the first two mini papers already, but we weren't here for me. "Oh no. Today's all about you, firecracker."

She huffed out a breath and then turned to face her easel. "Fine."

"Let me see your hand."

She lifted her hand and waved at me. I wanted to smile at the little sass she displayed, but refrained. "Your artwork."

"Yes, sir." She pulled out her sketchpad and flipped to the page of her drawing. She started to put it on the easel but I took it from her to inspect a little more closely.

"Nice work." I glanced at her and she shrugged.

"All the erase marks look like wrinkled skin. It'll do."

"Don't sell yourself short, Liv. It's good." I flashed my gaze at her. "Learn to take a compliment." I winked to lessen the impact of my words, flipped to the next page in her sketchpad, and then placed it on her easel. "This week is still life." I opened the text and showed her the bowl of fruit she was going to be drawing.

"It's going to look like a bunch of circles. If this were a painting assignment, I'd at least be able to distinguish the circles between oranges and apples with a little color, but with sketching, it'll look like crap."

Frowning, I said, "No it won't. That's why I'm here." I pulled out my pencil and the sketchpad I'd brought . "I want you to watch me while I draw it myself before you attempt it."

"You could just draw it for me," she mumbled under her breath as she reached for her pencil.

"And you could just write my paper. But I don't think either of us want to get kicked out of school. Now quit bitching and watch." I started with the pear in the middle of the bowl. "I'm outlining it first. See?"

"Yeah. What kind of pencil is that? A regular mechanical one?"

I shook my head. "No, it's a Clutch pencil. Similar concept since I can change out the lead. When you sharpen wooden pencils it changes the weight of them," I said as I continued to outline the rest of the fruit. "Newer artists usually use them, but once they practice with other pencils, they tend to find something different and stick with it. If not, then they'll stick with the wooden pencils. Some artists do amazing work with regular pencils. Those are better when it comes to outlining or smaller details, I think. The harder the lead the softer the lines." I stopped and looked at her. She was staring at me and not watching me draw. "What?"

She blushed. "Er, nothing."

Interesting. I smiled at her. "Then why are you blushing?"

"I am
not
blushing!"

"Tell that to your face, firecracker."

"Ugh, you are such a punk."

I chuckled at that. "I think that's the nicest name I've ever been called."

"Then I'll try harder next time," she grumbled as she snatched my pencil out of my hand. "Is it my turn to draw?"

"You're going to draw with my pencil? Yours is sitting by the blank piece of paper in front of you."

"You said when newbies try other pencils, they like those better. I'm trying it."

"It's not a toy," I teased. "Big time artists use it. I had to work my way to it."

"I won't break your precious pencil." She rolled her eyes and started drawing the outline of the pear. "You have it here with you, so I might was well try it out. Play with it a little." She shrugged.