Sienna’s pov

The paint was still drying on the canvas. The raw, messy energy of my feelings had been poured onto it, leaving me drained but also strangely hollow. I was still in my paint splattered clothes, sitting on a low stool, staring at the swirling colors, when the studio door burst open.

Zoe stood there, her face a mask of furious disappointment. Her eyes, usually so soft and kind, were cold. Hard. They looked just like Evan's when he was trying to manipulate someone. My heart ...