Everything.

Damn near everything went into the garage. Boxing it all up, I thought Lee was going to pass out. The urn, Robin’s ring, and the unspoken vows, went into Lee’s room, along with several photos and anime memorabilia. Everything else was carefully boxed up and taken to the garage. 

When the last box was stacked, I sighed and brushed my hands, turning to the corner covered in tarps. I’d always thought to ask what was under them, but whenever I did, he had this look in his eye that told me I shouldn’t. Now, however, I was going to take the chance.

“What’s over here?” 

I hear Lee’s heavy tread as he nears me. Dex is in the house vacuuming my room. “That’s my painting stuff,” he says in a low flat voice.

I whip my head around in surprise. “You paint?”

“I used to,” he says. “I stopped shortly before Robin died. I haven’t touched a single thing since then.”

“Why not?”

He hesitates. “I had no reason to.” He takes a few steps forward, reaching for one of the tarps. He touches it but doesn’t pull it. “Everything in my life was dead, there was nothing left for me to care about. There was no beauty, no love, nothing. I used to paint because it made me happy, and because Robin loved seeing it come to life. There were so many times he’d come here and stand behind me, his arms around my neck, watching me paint or sketch. He said I had a great eye for depth and unseen detail.”

“What did you paint?”

He turns to me, a sad smile on his lips. “You really want to know?”

“When you say it like that…” I fold my arms under my breasts, holding my elbows.

He chuckles. “It’s not porn, Bug.”

“Sure,” I say, unconvinced.

Declan’s chuckle reverberates through the open space. “Some people might consider it porn, depending on their tastes.”

Harley’s grin changes and his expression softens when he glances at Dex. 

No, he’s definitely not in love with him. Not at all. 

Sure, pal. Whatever you say.

“You may as well show her, Lee,” he says. “She’s going to bug you about it forever if you don’t.”

“And you know that, how?”

Dex shoots him a playful grin. “‘Cause I’ll egg her on.”

Lee rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ conspiracy going on, I swear.”

We laugh and Lee takes a deep breath. He grips the tarp, and pulls.

What is revealed makes me gasp, my hands covering my mouth as my eyes go wide. 

He removes the second tarp, drops it on the floor, and steps aside.

He said he paints.

That’s bullshit.

He works magic and calls it painting. 

“Harley!” I finally exclaim as I move toward the canvases stacked everywhere. “These are gorgeous!”

Harley Cox lived in a world of fantasy and magic, filled with fairies, elves, mermen, wizards, magical forests, ancient texts, and every other amazing thing the mind can create.

And he made it all real. If you didn’t know you were looking at a painting, you could easily believe he took a snapshot and blew it up. His work is so realistic, so deep. One painting I swear I was going to sink into when I reached out to touch it. It was of a village street, bustling with activity, with people of all kinds. The wood signs were incredibly detailed, the buildings fully textured. You could almost hear the passing carts and horses, along with the shouts of the residents and the laughter of the children. He chuckled when my finger bounced off the canvas and I nearly fell on my ass.

I turned to him, my mouth agape. “These are incredible!” I say. “And you hid them?”

He looked away. Declan was now at his side, rubbing his back. “I couldn’t do it anymore,” he said. “I’d look at them and all I’d see was him. He’s literally in every painting I’ve done.”

I turned back to the paintings, scouring each one. 

He was right.

Robin Scheffield wasn’t dead.

He was very much alive in all of them. 

He was an elf mage. A fairy king. A background shopkeeper. A street urchin. His name on a tavern sign. A robin was flying over a glittering wood. Whether the main attraction or an easter egg you were meant to find, Robin was everywhere.

My mind races as I look over each and every piece of art surrounding me. Harley is denying the world of incredible work and it doesn’t seem at all fair to me. I cross stitch for myself, it makes me happy and gives me calm. Harley painted out of his love for Robin, putting it on display for all to see. His love for Robin was what made magic real for him. When Robin died, the magic died with him.

“You should paint again,” I finally say softly. 

He doesn’t respond. I didn’t expect him to. 

“It’s been over four years since Robin died, and a great deal has happened since then. You became an alcoholic, buried yourself in your grief and depression, shut out the world, almost killed yourself becoming a drug-addled manwhore, and almost lost everything that ever mattered to you.”

I turn to gaze at him, his expression one of pain and regret. I smile.

“But you found me. You got sober. And now you have Dex. You have a great family, and, while the future you once dreamed is no longer possible, a new future is. A different, strange, and wild new future, but one you don’t have to build on your own. You lost Robin, but you gained us.” I gestured to the paintings. “He’s still alive in here. He’s still here with us, watching over us, guiding us. He sent me and Declan to you, Harley. And I think…no, I really do believe…that this moment, these last few hours, were meant to happen so you can finally get your closure and finish healing.”

Harley’s chin is trembling, tears breaking free from his eyes. I walk up to him and take his hands in mine, bringing them to my lips. “You lost your husband. But you gained a sister and a new chance to love again.” I place his hands on the side of my face. “You have a family now, Harley. One that will never give up on you.”

He pulls me into the biggest hug he has ever given me and I wrap my arms around his neck while he buries his face in my neck and cries. 

“I love you,” I whisper. “Forever.”

He nods. “I love you, Bug. Forever and always.”

*