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She turned to me, mouth agape. My heart cramped at the dash of disappointment in her eyes.

“You broke into this man’s gallery.” She said. “You better apologize this instant.”

I’d rather gauge my eyes out than apologize to the guy who called Sawyer’s art mundane, but I didn’t want to disappoint my mother any more than I already had.

“Sorry.” I said like a child that’s just been told they can’t have any ice cream.

He didn’t seem like he believed my apology was sincere.

“I won’t press any charges.” He said. “Only if that painting can stay on display.”

I had not expected that.

“It’s not my painting.”

He raised his brow.

“You snuck into my gallery to display someone else’s work?”

I nodded my head.

“That’s the short version of it.”

The officer and the gallery owner exchanged glances, and to my surprise, their expression softened.

“I want to know the artist.”

I could feel my mother’s piercing gaze from the side, but I ignored it and faced the owner with a sigh. I closed my eyes, hoping that I hadn’t ruined Sawyer’s entire future.

“Her name is Sawyer Whitlock.”

His lips parted as his eyes opened wider than usual.

“Why did she not show me that painting?” He asked. “It captured everything.”

“I thought so too, hence why I snuck into your gallery.”

He straightened his posture, leaning forward as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I can appreciate someone willing to take risks.” He said before turning to the police officer. “I’m not interested in pressing charges.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as they spoke a few more words to my mom before they left. As I crept up the stairs, each creak of the wooden steps seemed to alert my mom of my escape.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Her words cut through the air like a knife.

I stopped dead in my tracks. My mind was running into overdrive as I tried to find a plausible explanation. However, her knowing gaze confirmed my efforts would be in vain.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed as if she’d been carrying Mount Everest on her shoulders for months.

“I need you to be honest with me.”

“Of course.”

“Are you in love with Sawyer?”

I was speechless. I felt caught between the urge to deny everything and the overwhelming need to confide in someone. My eyes drifted down to my shoes. I nodded. Her expression softened with sympathy, but there was underlying concern drifting in her eyes.