Page 26 of And Everything In Between (Love By Any Means #3)

Giovanni – Los Angeles

Giovanni had been in L.A. three days and couldn’t tell you what he’d eaten or where he slept last night.

He should’ve been focused on sponsors, deliverables, and the launch of his merch line, Idle Hands.

Instead, his brain was stuck back home, wrapped in her voice and the way his name slid off her tongue like honey, slow, sweet, and sticky.

All he could do was draw the curve of her hips. Over and over.

Their first morning together and every other moment they’d shared played on an endless loop behind his eyelids.

It was always something. The way sunlight had filtered through his blinds.

How she’d slept with her lips slightly parted, like peace had finally found her after years of searching.

He remembered the electric tingle he felt when she woke him up with a lick of his lips.

He settled at the drafting table, music playing low and mournful while tools and pencils lay scattered in creative chaos around him.

The pencil moved with a will of its own, translating memory to paper with devoted precision.

Each stroke captured something essential: the sharp line of her jawline when she'd turned to look back at him, the slow arc of her back where his hand had rested while they danced, that subtle, dangerous curve between her waist and hip that seemed carved specifically for his grip.

“Damn.” He slammed his fist down, frustrated that he couldn’t get what he was creating perfect or was it that he couldn’t get to her?

Possibly both. He’d rented an Airbnb, it was ducked off quiet and dark.

But the home had a place where he could think, sketch, and be reminded of his first love.

The initial discovery of what you wanted to build.

The art of it. The bones already there, just upgraded, respected, and accentuated.

It wasn’t any car he was designing. It was her. Sleek. Unexpected. Powerful. Underestimated.

He pushed the sketch pad away and leaned back in the chair, palms dragging down his face. His phone buzzed, but it wasn’t her. It was Spirit again.

Spirit: You alive or you in a mood?

He didn’t answer. A minute later, she walked in anyway, arms crossed, expression loaded.

“You ghosting your own blood now?” she asked, plopping onto a nearby stool.

“I’m working,” he muttered.

“Boy, please. You’ve been redrawing the same damn car all morning. I peeked.” She cocked her head. “I haven’t seen you with a sketch pad in a long time.”

“Yeah, well, I’m inspired.”

“Is that your interpretation of Paige?”

He cut his eyes at her but said nothing. Spirit kicked her feet, grinning. She was so happy for her brother. Giovanni had lived a life of solitude long enough.

“It’s her, ain’t it? Lord, I can’t wait to meet the woman who has my brother gasping for air in her absence.”

Giovanni sighed, picking up a pencil to have something to fidget with. “It ain’t like that.”

“It’s exactly like that. Look at you, three days in LA with executives falling over themselves to sign you, and you hiding in here drawing curves that definitely don’t belong to any vehicle I’ve ever seen.

” She came forward, snatching the sketch pad before he could stop her. “Mmm-hmm. Just as I thought.”

“Give that back,” he growled, reaching for it. But as they fight like little kids, he let out a laugh.

Spirit held it away, studying the drawing with expert eyes. “This is good, G. Really good. You haven’t drawn like this since before...” She let the sentence hang, both of them knowing she meant before their father passed.

Giovanni's chest tightened, old grief rising. “Don’t.”

“I’m not.” She handed the pad back, her face softening. “I’m just saying, I like seeing this side of you again. The artist. The one who feels something so deep he’s gotta get it out on paper.” She nudged his knee with her foot. “She must be special.”

“She is,” he admitted finally, the words feeling both too big and not enough. She was more than special, she was it.

Spirit’s teasing grin transformed into something gentler. “Well, I wanted to check in on you. One more week and then we are home for a few months. Call her if you need to.”

He nodded, grateful for the permission he didn’t need but somehow wanted. As Spirit headed toward the door, he called after her.

“Aye Spirit?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

She winked. “That’s what sisters are for. To point out when their hardheaded brothers are in love.”

“I didn’t say all that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She tapped the side of her head. “I got eyes.”

When Spirit left, Giovanni stared at the page again.

The lines were right, but something was missing.

The soul, maybe. The essence that made Paige more than curves and angles.

How could he capture that fire in her eyes?

The stubborn set of her jaw? The way she softened when she thought no one was looking?

He smiled slowly, caught off-guard by how quickly she’d become essential to him.

A month ago, she was a beautiful woman that caught his attention at a car show.

Now she was the measuring stick for everything else in his life.

The obsession had snuck up on him - quiet, persistent, impossible to ignore.

She was warmth and realness in a city that manufactured both, and there was nothing genuine about LA, at least not to him.

LA appeared larger than life but felt hollow compared to what he craved: southern comfort and his southern woman who never pretended to be anything other than exactly who she was.

His fingers itched toward his phone. It sat face-up on the table, screen dark.

She hadn’t texted yet, but she wasn’t ignoring him either.

They were good. At least, he thought they were.

Still, the silence gnawed at him. He didn’t want to be the needy dude calling for validation, but damn, he wanted to hear her voice.

He picked up the phone, stared at it for a long moment, then tapped her name.

It rang twice.

“Hey,” Paige answered, voice warm, already working on him.

He exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “You busy?”

“Nope.” Her face lit up the screen, hair in a sleek ponytail, lip gloss worn off, looking like home. “Just got in from work.”

He didn’t bother pretending. “This shit out here got me in a mood.”

She leaned in closer, face softening. He didn’t have to explain. Not to her.

“L.A. feels fake,” he muttered. “Big for no reason. Like I walked into a room I ain’t ask to be in.”

She didn’t rush to fill the space. Just watched him.

“You built for rooms bigger than this,” she said finally. “Don’t matter if they flashy or not.”

He nodded slowly, but the weight didn’t lift. “Maybe. But tonight? I feel off. Tired. I don’t even know if this is really me, Cinny.”

Silence stretched, but not the kind that made him second-guess himself. This was her listening, like she always did. And also, lowkey? Squeezing her thighs together because that nickname did something to her.

“There’s nothing too big for you,” she said, voice softer now, but still solid. “You deserve to pop your shit.”

Then quieter, more thoughtful… “But I get why it feels like that.”

“I miss you,” he admitted, dragging a hand down his beard. He’d completely ditched the conversation about his fears to tell her how he felt. Paige had the ability to pull the softest parts of him to the forefront, and she didn’t even know it.

“I miss you too,” she replied, covering the smile on her face, easing some of the tension from his shoulders. “My granny used to say L.A. is the devil’s town. I shoulda put that oil on you before you left.”

He chuckled, the laugh catching in his throat. “You always gotta say something to make me laugh.”

“That’s my job,” she said. “But seriously, you’re tired. You’re workin’. Your team needs things. And you’re trying to juggle it all while wondering if I’m still gonna be here when you’re done with all of it. Aren’t you?”

He said nothing.

“Gio... I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you give me a reason to.”

Her words settled over him like a heated blanket. “I needed to hear that.”

“I know you did,” she said gently. “Now tell me what you’re avoiding for real. There’s something else, so don’t bullshit me.”

He laughed. “You do know me.”

“Duh.”

He blew out a breath, posture sinking a little.

“Gotta sit down with Darren later. Sienna’s supposed to be there. I swear, bruh, I’m tired of her always popping up.”

“Mmm,” Paige hummed, a little too knowingly. “Spirit going too?”

“Nah, it’s just me. And what’s that ‘mm’ for? Ain’t nobody thinking about Sienna. My focus is you.”

“I know that, G,” she said, smirking. “I just meant maybe Spirit could fix it. Because if I gotta show up, I’m knocking that hoe back to the exact moment she had you fucked up. Maybe then she’ll rethink her life.”

“My nigga,” he muttered, laughing. They cracked up for a second before the line settled into silence again. He didn’t say it, but he couldn’t wait for his time off. He already knew where he was going. Where the vibe was soft, solid, where he didn’t have to explain himself.

Then Paige added, quieter this time, “Or maybe… maybe I wouldn’t know you if she hadn’t broken your heart.”

Giovanni blinked, caught off guard for a second before his smile returned.

“Oh, so you dun caught feelings?”

“Shut up,” she said, laughing but very aware that she had. “Talk soon?”

“Soon,” he promised. “Real soon.”

He set the phone down, the sketch still wasn’t perfect, the city still felt too damn big, and Sienna was still going to be in the room. But the one thing that made sense right now?

Paige.

Her voice lingered while he showered and got dressed.

Dark slacks. Open collar. No tie. He looked in the mirror, adjusted his cuffs, and set his jaw.

Minimal jewelry. He was in a city that wasn’t his, he wasn’t doing too much for protection.

This was business. Strictly. But just in case—he was ready for whatever.