Free When Angels Cry by Maria Rachel Hooley Page A

found Kaylee perched on the sill.  He stooped next to her and gently brushed her long hair in front of her shoulders. 
    Kaylee caught his hand in hers.  “I’d rather it be brushed back.”   
    “No , ” he argued.  “You’ll like it there.  I promise.”  He squeezed her hand reassuringly.  “Trust me.”
    Reluctantly, Kaylee nodded.   Her fingers squeezed back, and she clutched his hand in hers.  Bastian stared at her, smelling the floral sweetness of her perfume.  Roses?  Hyacinth?  The scent intoxicated him.  His eyebrows arched in puzzlement.  Her lips parted slightly.  Her chest rose and fell quickly as he stared at the line of her neck, at the hollow just above her chest, a perfect place. Her grip slackened, and she finally released him.
    “Tilt your head toward the ceiling.”  Bastian pulled over a chair and set the charcoals next to him as he adjusted the pad in his lap.  He pulled out a coal, poised it at the middle of the sheet , and peered at Kaylee. 
    Kaylee lifted her chin and gazed at the ceiling.  Strands of her long hair slipped over her breasts and curled toward her stomach.
    “Perfect.  Now hold still and be patient.  This could take a few minutes.”  The light cast a deep mahogany glow to her hair.  She r egarded the sky with wide eyes as he brush ed the charcoal against the paper.
    “That’s okay,” Kaylee replied, feeling his gaze upon her. “I don’t have any hot dates.”
    “Would you like to,” Bastian laughed.  He finished sketching the delicate rim of her face, the subtle trace of her chin.
    “Depends on who’s asking.”  Kaylee smiled and risked a downward glance.
    “Eyes on the ceiling, please.”  He sketched her eyes, half-lidded at the moment, almond-shaped, the same ones that’d kept him from sleeping last night.  “What if I were?”
    “I guess it would depend on why.”  Kaylee’s throat felt as though it would close, and although she tried to swallow, she found she couldn’t.  Of course, she’d never been good at swallowing her own words. 
    Bastian peered up from the paper.  “Isn’t that obvious?”
    “Not to me.”  Her voice was soft and unsure, absent of any former confidence.
    Bastian resumed his work.  “Maybe because I enjoy being with you.  Is that so crazy?”    
    “I want to be sure, you know.”  Kaylee blinked and shivered.
    “Sure of what?”  He waited a moment, the charcoal stilled on the page, but there was only silence, one he ultimately broke .  “That I don’t pity you?”
    “Yes,” she whispered.  She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his expression .  T here were still things she’d rather not know.
    “I don’t pity you,” he said finally, his voice suddenly raw.  “I pity me because there’s never going to be a day I can keep you forever.  The more I give of myself, the more I stand to lose in the end. ”  He laughed humorlessly.  “ But damned if I can keep from giving you more. ”
    He kept his eyes on the sketchpad, on the work in his hands.  He added eyebrows, two perfect arcs, then focused on her nose, her lips, and her hair.  Line by line, curve by curve, Kaylee’s features slowly appeared on the page, as lifelike as though she were there, present beneath his hands.  But there she did not look at him but rather upward, beyond them both.
    “How’s it coming?” Kaylee asked, her voice hushed.  She sat motionless , blinking only occasionally.
    “You can relax.  I’m done.”  Bastian peered at the drawing, knowing he hadn’t really needed Kaylee to model for him.  He had memorized her features the first moment she’d lain in the snow, looking up at him.  He set the charcoal back in the box and stood,  placing the pad it in her hands.
    “You wanted my perspective.  I hope you’re not disappointed.”  As she examined her portrait, her mouth fell open.  Bastian set his hand on Kaylee’s shoulder and gingerly squeezed. 
    “ No, it’s not that.”