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Willamena regarded her niece with pride. Even at forty-one years old, the blonde could pass for her twenties. Willamena took a bit of pleasure in the fact that Rebecca’s style was influenced by her. Granted, Rebecca’s fashion sense was a tad younger. But the sophistication was all due to Willamena. It was evident even when Rebecca was sitting at the table in pink shorts and nightshirt with her legs pulled up to her chest.

“A little bit of this. A little bit of that.”

“Meaning you grilled her?”

“No, Miss Know-it-all. We actually had a very nice conversation about how you’re ready to move on from therapy altogether.”

Rebecca’s legs dropped, and she sat up. “What?”

“My sweet girl. I’d much rather be your aunt than your therapist. I don’t want you to be afraid to call me. Or, to think that we must always be in a session.”

“I didn’t think that. It’s just…”

“It’s just you want to be rid of Samantha,” Willamena continued for Rebecca. “So do I. You were right before. We deserve better. I don’t want to be a constant reminder.” She shook her head. “I should have insisted you see another psychiatrist.”

“I didn’t want to see anyone else. I wanted you. Aunt Wills, I trust you. I didn’t want anyone else to know what happened to me. I didn’t want anyone else to fix me. I needed you.”

“And now you need me to be your aunt again. Rebecca, Cass has given you a second lease on life. Take it. Embrace it. And let me focus on embarrassing Cass by telling her you both need to keep it down upstairs when you have company.”

Rebecca’s head snapped up, eyes wide. Then she saw Aunt Wills’s smirk. “You are rotten! But I like it. And I love you. You’ll still be there if I need you?”

Willamena saw that same ten-year-old frightened little girl she saw after Rebecca’s parents passed away.

“Always.”

CASS WIPED HER paint coated fingers on the front of her shirt and tilted her head. She was on her third painting of the day and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. Cass checked her watch to make sure that was still true. She couldn’t trust her stomach to tell her because she was always hungry.

She shook her head, bringing herself back into focus. Today had been a good day so far, production-wise. After a brief two-day stay, Aunt Wills was gone, and Rebecca had left fairly early that morning for meetings. Cass had the house to herself and she was taking full advantage of it. She would have most of the day to spend here in her studio working on canvases for Eve.

Cass carefully removed the still wet painting from the easel, replacing it with a fresh one with a smile on her face. This. This is what she loved to do. This made her feel alive. And now that she had someone like Rebecca to share her life with, Cass felt as though she owned the world. She had always been a pretty happy person. Now? She looked back at the painting that stood in the corner, covered by a sheet. Now, she knew what happiness truly was.

The tip of her brush dipped into the paints on her palette, mixing them expertly until she found the color that matched the one in her head. Art had always come naturally for Cass. Ideas would pop into her brain and practically shoot out from her fingertips. The only time she struggled was when Rebecca left her. Since she came back and they’re together, not even the prospect of being on display at a Sumptor Gallery could faze her now. Just as she was making her first stroke, the doorbell rang.

“Shit.”

Cass hesitated. Stay and paint or answer the damn door? In the end, it was her stomach that made the decision. If she took a break now, she could fix herself a sandwich and be able to put in a few more hours in her studio before her sexy girlfriend got home. That thought put a pep in her step as she made her way to the door.

“Rand?”

Cass’s normally well put together best friend looked frazzled. Mascara ran down splotchy cheeks, her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her hair disheveled. The redhead pushed her way inside.

“Close the door.”

Frozen in confusion, it took Cass a moment for things to register in her brain. “What happened?”

“Close the damn door!”

Cass looked out outside, seeing nothing, then shutting and locking it. She guided Rand to the couch and sat next to her, holding her hand.

“What happened, Rand?”

“It’s Connor.”

“What about him?”

“He’s… he’s gone insane!” Rand sniffled, and Cass immediately got up for some tissues.

“Here.” She handed over the box. “Can you explain what’s going on?” Cass didn’t like Connor much, but only because he didn’t like her. Thing was, the dude was a mild-mannered guy that was kinda boring. The fact that he and Rand were members of Rebecca’s club had always been odd to Cass.