“Who’s this?” I asked, and Wells got off his phone long enough to look. There were four people in the photo, a family. There was a woman I recognized as Ares’s mother, Brielle. I mean, I’d just met her, so I recognized her even though she was younger. The man in the photo, I recognized too. Not only did he look like Ares, but I’d seen a younger photo of the guy at Bow’s house.
The man was Ares’s dad, Ramses. He was older than that photo I’d seen, but this was him. God, he was the spitting image of his son.
My confusion lay with the others in the photo. Ramses and Brielle held two children, babies, and the couple had one in each of their arms. Brielle lay in a hospital bed, the baby in her arms swaddled, and Ramses held the other by her side. He sat on Brielle’s bed, the couple smiling into the camera.
I assumed one of these children was Ares, and Brielle clearly had just given birth. She had a tired glow about her face, but looked so happy.
I didn’t get why there were two babies, though, and Wells took the photo when I handed it to him.
“Ares’s parents.” The frown pinched hard into Wells’s lips. He pointed at the baby in Ramses’s arms. “This is Wolf.”
“Who’s the other kid?”
“Ares’s sister,” he said, shocking me. Wells nodded. “Ares has a twin. Had a twin.” He shook his head. “Though he’s obviously only been told about her. He never got to meet her.” He glanced my way, his sigh heavy. “They didn’t even get to make it out of the hospital with her. Ramses and Brielle?”
Oh my God.
I didn’t know what to say. I mean, what could be said to that?
“Wolf would never say, but I think a lot of his shitty attitude comes from that.” His shoulders lifted. “I think the guy might have some survivor’s guilt or some shit. He used to butt heads real hard with his parents, and Brielle and Ramses couldn’t be nicer folks. Brielle is pretty tough, but she’s cool. I think Ares just feels bad.”
“Feels bad?”
Wells’s lips turned down. “I think he feels like they got left with him. He’ll say shit like that sometimes. Real fucked-up shit. Dark shit.”
“I guess she and my dad got stuck with my attitude. Stuck with me.”
Ares had said that when he took me to do the graffiti, but I had no idea he meant it literally.
Wells handed me back the photo when his phone buzzed again. He cursed. “I need to call this girl before she starts losing her shit. I told her we can’t hang tonight, so she’s freaking. Ares let her over last time, so she’s giving me issues. I need to handle it.”
I was still thinking about what he’d said about Ares, but pulled out of it.
Wells backed up. “Don’t go anywhere. This will just take two seconds. I’ll come back for you and walk you back.”
I nodded, watching him escape to handle his business. I heard his voice hit the hall before I shifted my attention back to the photo.
It was so tragic.
I hated that what Wells stated about Ares made sense, things Ares had said and his attitude.
All this definitely didn’t feel like my place to know, and I really didn’t know how happy Ares would be that Wells had shared this information with me. Ares was very protective over his life, guarded.
I returned the photo to the sketchbook, then put it back on the desk where I’d found it. It felt really weird being in here now, but I did wait since Wells had told me to.
I glanced around the room, but my gaze caught on another sketchbook. This one was shoved between several boxes that were stacked, and the only reason I noticed it was because it was open.
And well, the image on the first page.
I could only see the top half of the sketch, but it was enough for me to pull the sketchbook out for a closer look.
But once I did…
It was me. Like I’d been sketched, and the rendering had been full body. I recognized my painting overalls, my hair up in a bun. The realism was spot on.
What?
I turned the page, seeing more of me. There were tiny sketches, three or so little mes in various poses on the page. Nearly all of them had me painting.