Silent Screams (Hollow #1)

CHAPTER 22

I’m dreading going back home to face Harvey.

The rest of the weekend flew by and now that we’re well into Sunday evening, I have no choice but to go home and get ready for the week. I can’t spend all my time with Damon, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome at Gia’s.

Yesterday, I ended up falling asleep in Damon’s arms, and I spent the entire day today at Gia’s, baking cookies and watching a Disney movie with Athena, though she barely focused on it for more than five minutes at a time.

Gia tried to get the scoop, but after our last conversation, I decided to keep my time with Damon to myself. At least for now.

My little secret.

I want it tainted by nothing and no one, which tells me how wrong it is.

I quickly speak to Layla on my drive home from my sister’s, and she tells me she’s extending her trip with her fiancé.

When I finally turn off the ignition, I mentally give myself a pep talk.

He’s probably in his room. You might not even see him. It’s not like he knows .

Claire called me today, and I ignored it. I know I’ll have to deal with her eventually for Harvey’s sake, but I need to think things through first.

I don’t know what’s next at this point. What will happen once I face Harv again? Will he want to talk about it, or will he ignore me?

My mind, my heart, my entire body feels as if it’s shaking with anxiety—wondering how to proceed, wondering if Harvey and I can even move forward from both betrayals, wondering if I even want to try to fix things with him.

I grab my purse and make it inside the house, turning on a few lights before checking on him. His room is empty, and the sight fills my stomach with a void I can’t explain.

It’s not like I told him I was coming back home, but still, the curiosity is killing me: has he left with Claire?

I sit on his lowered bed and reach for my phone inside my back jeans pocket, texting him about his whereabouts. He answers right away.

Harvey: With Henrik.

I’m relieved and sad at the same time. Relieved not to have to deal with it and sad because I need to see what else he’ll say. If he’ll apologize. If we can talk . But then Damon’s kiss-me lips and chocolate eyes pop in my mind, and everything else pales in comparison.

I’m about to leave his room when something catches my eye—a black booklet.

His art. His sketches. His everything.

I take a few steps forward, then curse myself for even thinking about it. I turn and head for the door. It’s personal. It’s his stuff. It’s like his journal.

He doesn’t want me to see.

I turn the knob but eye the booklet one more time before making a split-second decision. I walk quickly to his lowered desk and open his sketchbook.

My pulse is rapid, rapid, rapid. My hands feel like they’re touching fire, like I’m on my way to hell, if I wasn’t already what with cheating on Harvey.

His words come back to me so vividly. I wouldn’t do that if I were you ... Enter an artist’s world without asking permission. You might not like what you find.

Yet, I keep flipping through.

Pages and pages of abstract art greet me. It’s beautiful—I couldn’t tell you what it is, other than it’s beauty, similar to Damon’s paintings that follow him everywhere. But I’d have to be blind not to see the pain shine through.

He dates them. And signs them with his uniquely bold and edgy signature.

My fingers touch the page while I sit on his bed to continue my search in hell. I go through more pages until one catches my attention.

It’s Claire.

My throat burns as my eyes scan the date. A few weeks after she started working for him.

My heart aches because I can clearly see how he views her. She’s happy and carefree—everything I’m not. I’m just meh .

And that’s why neither Harvey nor Damon want me.

Everything is so well defined. Not everyone can nail facial portraits, but he does. Her eyes, her eyebrows, her lip, and even her dimple. How many hours did he study her to get this right?

I’m so mad at you, Harv. Even though I shouldn’t be, I am.

Once again, my thoughts stay inside my head, for me, only me, to hear them.

I skim more pages and skip some until I land on another one.

He drew me .

He’s beyond talented. He captures more than the face—you can feel the character seeping through the ivory page.

I’m quiet; it’s there—bleeding out on cream paper. Is that why he’s turned to her instead of me? We always were different, even when we first started dating. Both daredevils and risktakers, but otherwise, Harvey was the life of the party, the center of attention.

He loved to laugh and make people laugh.

I was always quiet, reserved.

Like Damon.

I’m done snooping. Somehow seeing a drawing of me calmed my nerves. Though the fact that he has several of Claire doesn’t pan out in my favor.

Do I even want it to? That’s the question, isn’t it?

I don’t know if Harv will be back tonight. Still, I make a chicken alfredo, needing the comfort it’ll provide. I keep leftovers for my lunch tomorrow and do laundry the rest of the evening.

After showering, I head for bed early, reading the fourth Harry Potter book, and then I try to fall asleep. But like everything else in my life right now—I fail miserably.