Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Dee

When Dee woke up, it was still dark and there was a warm arm slung casually over her stomach. There was a pleasant ache in her muscles too and she felt strangely relaxed. Clarissa was snoring gently and drooling ever so slightly which was kind of endearing.

As Dee stared up at the ceiling, she examined her feelings and thoughts. While it was slightly weird that she'd ended up in bed with Clarissa, there was no rush of regret, embarrassment, or disappointment. It had been good, really good, and Dee just couldn't muster the same anger she used to hold for her old rival. Maybe it helped seeing Clarissa for who she really was, a complex woman, not just some idea to measure herself against.

The faint light of the moon came in through the angled window and Dee briefly thought back to the lake ceremony and what the hell she would do if a mating mark appeared on her body once the sun was up. She'd have to go to the fated mate meet & greet to find out which shifter the Moon Goddess had chosen for her.

She glanced at the sleeping Clarissa but Dee didn't let her thoughts go there. There was no point in speculating and worrying about something that hadn't happened yet.

She closed her eyes but sleep eluded her. Even with Clarissa's steady breathing, Dee could feel herself growing restless. More. In the dark of Clarissa's room, Dee's imagination was sparking with colours and ideas. She didn't know what part of last night had helped, but she could feel her fingers itching to paint. It wasn't just an urge, it was a compulsion.

Dee untangled herself from the woman next to her, quietly slipping out of the bed. She searched around for her clothing, gathering what she could find. She hit her knee against a hard object and froze in place, worried she was making too much noise. Then again, it wouldn't be the end of the world if Clarissa woke up. Dee wasn't trying to sneak out, she just wanted to paint.

When there was no reaction, Dee continued on. She returned to the living room where Millie and Bork were snoozing on the couch. They were not quite touching but they certainly seemed happy and relaxed.

Dee got her clothes from the dryer and changed because while she had no regrets, she also didn't want to show up at her parents' house in Clarissa's skimpy shorts. That would raise questions she wasn't ready to answer and there would likely already be an interrogation over breakfast because she hadn't come home.

She spotted a pen and a pad of paper on the table and scribbled a note for Clarissa, explaining why she'd gone home. Dee paused, hovering her pen over the note. This all seemed like a bad idea but surely, if there was one person who would understand, it would be Clarissa?

The flush of the toilet made her freeze and she turned slowly, her heart hammering in her chest. No matter how much she willed that this wasn't happening, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The bathroom door opened and a sleepy Mr Foster waddled out in a long shirt and luckily, boxers. They locked eyes and Dee desperately searched for an explanation why she was standing hunched over the table like some burglar.

"H-Hi," she said eventually, her mouth dry.

Mr Foster looked understandably confused. "Can I help you?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, it's me, Dee. Lewis. Dee Lewis."

Recognition flitted across his face. He looked just like Dee remembered but also not. He was thinner, frail, and looked like he'd gained more than ten years since she saw him last. His hair was receding, cheeks hollowed, his skin like parchment.

"Can I ask what you're doing in my home at four in the morning, Dee Lewis?" His gaze travelled to Clarissa's bedroom door, understanding widening his eyes. They were the only thing about him that hadn't changed. They were blue like Clarissa's, clear, and just as observant. "Are you sneaking out on my daughter?"

"I was writing her a note," Dee said weakly. "I'm not sneaking sneaking out, I just couldn't go back to sleep and I felt the urge to paint."

Mr Foster let out a hum. "Still... That's not very nice to Clarissa. I know, wait just a moment."

Dee was mortified and wished she knew how to disassociate because she would really like not to be here right now. She waited while Mr Foster rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen and returned with a key.

"What's this?" Dee asked.

"Key to the store. Paint there. You can use whatever you need."

"Mr Foster, I couldn't..." Dee was flabbergasted by the offer.

The older man gave her a kind but stern smile that made it clear he wasn't going to change his mind. "Sneaking out isn't right."

Dee considered protesting but she knew he was right. Between the urge to stay and the drive to paint, this was the best solution. And it meant she didn't have to walk half an hour home.

"Thank you," she said, her hand closing around the key. She gave him what she hoped was an appreciative smile and headed to the door.

Millie perked her head up, looking sleepy but curious. There was a little pluck of hair sticking up from the top of her head.

"Stay," Dee commanded gently, her gaze flitting to Mr Foster. "If that's okay?"

Mr Foster let out a soft laugh. "I hadn't even noticed there were two. Don't worry about her, she's in good hands."

Dee thanked him again before slipping out and making her way down the stairs. It was strange to unlock the craft store and even stranger to be there so early. She felt like a thief or an imposter even if she had permission to be there.

She flicked the lights on and collected everything she needed to paint. Luckily, she was in the right place for that. She noted down all the supplies she took so she could pay for them later and set up her easel in the empty entrance.

It was an odd place to paint but Dee wasn't bothered, it wasn't about the where or when. She just needed to get this surge of inspiration out of her before it was gone. And there was something nostalgic about this place.

It just felt right.

She punctured the tube of paint and grabbed her paintbrush, twirling it between her fingers. A grin lifted her lips when she thought about how they'd been inside Clarissa not all that long ago and she put her brush to the canvas, excited to get started.

Everything was right.