Soldier's Choice by Morgan Blaze Page B

definitely didn’t want to talk about her feelings. She just wanted to forget.
    Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.
    Sydney texted her a few times and called once. She ignored it. Once or twice, she glanced at the message from Reese until she couldn’t stand it anymore and deleted the whole string, images and all.
    Got them, thanks. No comments, no indication that he’d so much as looked at the pictures. He couldn’t even pretend that he liked her work now. Part of her insisted that he was still acting just the way they’d arranged things—like a friend. She was the one who’d practically blown up without even telling him why.
    The rest of her told that part to shut up.
    She was still exhausted from the insane highs and lows she’d gone through last night and this morning. But after a few hours of lying on her bed and ignoring the world, she hadn’t even come close to sleeping. All of her thoughts blurred and tangled themselves in her head, until she was so furious that she had to do something.
    So she got up, rummaged through her closet until she found the boxes she’d folded and stuffed in the back, and stomped out of her bedroom toward the attic.
    The house seemed quiet. Either her brothers had left, or they weren’t going to risk incurring her wrath. Both options were fine with her. She unlocked the attic and went right to work.
    It didn’t take long to assemble the boxes and load all of her paintings into them, even the unfinished one on the easel. She was careful to avoid looking at the image of Reese in the rain. Soon she had five boxes stuffed with stupid, broken dreams that needed to get out of her life.
    She grabbed the first one, and started lugging it down the stairs.
    Gage was sprawled on the couch, watching some action movie. She didn’t even acknowledge him as she dragged the box past and shoved it next to the front door. After a quick pause to catch her breath and shove her hair out of her face, she headed for the stairs again.
    Unfortunately, Gage decided she was more fun than the movie. “Hey, woman,” he said, shifting to look over the back of the couch. “What’s all the banging for? You’re louder than the giant robots.”
    “Spring cleaning.” She glowered at him. “I’m busy, Gage. Leave me alone.”
    “But it’s not spring.”
    “It’s an expression, moron.”
    He straightened further and glanced toward the door. “Uh, Luka? Aren’t those your…”
    “They’re none of your business.”
    “I’m telling Mark.”
    “Go ahead. They’re none of his business, either.”
    She practically ran back upstairs, without bothering to see if Gage would follow through on his threat. Not that it mattered. She’d made up her mind—no more idiotic hopes. No more pretending she could have better.
    Yes, it was more about Reese than painting. But she needed a clean break, and this was the fastest way. She couldn’t kick Reese to the curb.
    She’d never had him in the first place.
    As she dragged the second box down to the landing, Mark materialized at the bottom of the stairs. She stopped and huffed at him, reminding herself to get back at Gage later. “Get out of the way,” she said.
    “No.”
    “I mean it, Mark. Move.”
    “What are you doing?”
    She rolled her eyes. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”
    “Something stupid.”
    “Mark…just move.”
    “Make me.”
    “Fine.” With a sigh, she pushed the box aside. “Jonah!”
    “He’s not here.” Mark took the stairs two at a time and stopped in front of her, rubbing her shoulder. “Come on, Lu. What’s going on? If it’s Reese, I’ll—”
    “Don’t,” she said sharply. “Going caveman on him isn’t going to help. Besides, it’s not him. It’s me.”
    He frowned. “Why don’t I believe that?”
    “It’s the truth.” She relaxed a little and glanced at the box. “I need to make a change,” she said. “Start over. I just can’t…”
    “Can’t what?”
    Before she could think of a way