Now That I've Found You (New York Sullivans #1)(2)

When she lifted her head from her knees and turned to face the sun so that he could finally see her profile, Drake’s heart stilled in his chest—stopping as surely as it might if a knife stabbed it, or a bullet pierced it.

He needed to paint her.

*



Rosa Bouchard—not Rosalind, no matter how much her mother insisted on using her legal name because it sounded “classier”—hadn’t cried in years. Not since her father had passed away when she was ten and she’d lost one of the most important, loving people in her life.

But today she couldn’t stop.

There was so much water around her already—waves crashing, salt water spraying up onto the clifftop to soak her shoes, her clothes, her skin. What was a little more salty liquid to add to it? Especially when her tears were barely a drop in the bucket compared to the huge, wide ocean in front of her.

It was almost a relief to let the tears flow through her so hard and fast that she couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Rosa didn’t want to think right now. Didn’t want to have to make any big decisions. Didn’t want to keep remembering what had happened. Not just the horrible pictures, but all the awful comments from strangers that had followed. And, worst of all, the things that the people who were supposed to care about her most had said.

Unfortunately, nothing could stop her mother’s voice from playing on repeat inside Rosa’s head: “That horrible man who hid those cameras in your hotel room and took those pictures of you won’t stand a chance against our lawyers. They’ll nail him to the wall for sneaking and selling those pictures. But you shouldn’t feel bad about what people are seeing, honey. Your body isn’t anything they haven’t seen before. Why don’t we let the lawyers go after him while we look on the bright side—we’ve gained over a million followers on every single social platform in just a matter of hours!”

In the end, that was what had cracked Rosa’s heart in two—realizing that her body had been nothing more than a trade for a few million new social media followers for her family’s brand. That her pride, her privacy, her utter lack of consent to the nude photos were simply a good way to increase their worth to advertisers who wanted the Bouchards’ endorsements for their makeup and fashion lines.

As a new wave of misery rose within her, Rosa could feel the rips and tears clawing at her heart. The ocean crashing on the rocks swallowed up the sound of her tears, but instead of continuing to be glad for the cover, anger suddenly flooded her.

She was so tired of being muted. So damned sick of always being told what to say and how to say it by the cable network’s publicity team.

A roar of fury was rising in her throat when she was jolted by a sudden flood of unexpected warmth. Lifting her face from where she’d had it buried on her knees, she was shocked to realize that the gray clouds had parted and a beam of sunshine was coming through.

Shining straight on her.

For one blissful moment, both her brain and her heart cleared so that she could appreciate the sound of the waves crashing and feel the warmth of the sun on her wet face and arms.

But the moment passed way too soon, and when it did, everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours came crashing right back.

Rosa hadn’t thought about where she was going that morning. She hadn’t awakened at four a.m. and had her bags packed with a clear destination in her GPS. She’d simply had to get out. Had to get away from everyone and everything that was hurting her. So she’d snuck out of the house to her car. Not one of the fancy ones the car companies gave them to drive for the free publicity, but the old car she’d bought with the money she’d saved up from babysitting in the years before reality TV made her life completely unreal.

She’d driven through the night and kept driving as the sun rose, until she’d found herself in Montauk, a town nicknamed THE END. It was the perfect description for how she felt—all the way at the end of her rope.

She’d been to Montauk once before with her dad on one of their special yearly father-daughter trips. Rosa remembered driving past the long stretches of beach and wondering when her dad was going to stop so that they could go outside and play. But she’d trusted him to know the best place—she’d trusted him about absolutely everything—even when he’d pulled into a forest instead of the beach.

They’d hiked a winding trail, laughing as they’d skipped over some puddles and splashed through others, then come to what looked like a skateboarder’s big concrete half-pipe. Her father had told her that it was an old storm drain that was no longer used, but that it would take them to one of the most spectacular places he’d ever seen, one hardly anyone knew about. As they’d walked together along the cracked concrete, she’d been so excited by the adventure that when the trees suddenly opened up to reveal dark gray cliffs and the endless ocean beyond, she’d gasped in wonder.

Rosa always had fun playing in the sand and surf, but it was the turbulent ocean that had always touched her most deeply. Though she hadn’t ever said the words aloud to her father, he’d understood.

That special day so long ago, he’d taken her hand and told her they needed to walk carefully over the slick clifftop because he couldn’t stand the thought of her falling and getting hurt. She still remembered the warm, steady grip of his hand, how sure she’d been that he’d always be there to take care of her, to make sure she was never hurt. And how excited she’d been when he promised that they could come back to this spot the following year on their special trip.