Kade pushed up the sleeve of his left arm to reveal a multitude of tattoos that included a lion in mid growl and several black roses entwined around a dagger, as well as a maze of swirls and shapes that felt much like his turbulent paintings.

"Did you design those?" I asked.

"I did."

"What do they mean?"

"A lot of things. Power, strength, courage, fear, heartbreak, death…"

The last word sent a chill through me, reminding me that Kade had a dark side. "Your arm is just another canvas, isn't it?"

"Yes. But I decided a long time ago that less is more. So, I started creating outside of myself."

"Do the dark emotions all come from your father's death?"

"Probably not all of them, but a lot. I felt cheated by his death. Growing up without a father in a rough neighborhood wasn't easy. I had to be the man in the family when I was far too young. My mother didn't want me to take on that role. She wanted to be my protector, but when she was working, I had to protect myself. There wasn't anyone else to do that."

His words resonated within me. "I felt cheated by my mom's death, too. My life wasn't as much of a struggle as yours, but her absence left an immense hole in my life. I've never really been able to fill it." I paused. "I can't stop wondering if she realized just how much pain she gave us when she left, or if she felt any pain herself. I want her to explain it to me."

His gaze clung to mine. "Is that really what you want, Brynn? Because I don't think you want to listen to her as much as you want to talk. You want to tell her how you feel about what she did."

"I need to get that out," I admitted. "I want her to know what she did was wrong. But there's also a part of me that wants to see her with her eyes open, who wants to hug her, and tell her how much I missed her." I shook my head in bewilderment. "I have so many mixed emotions. My thoughts feel as dark and turbulent as your art. I wish I could paint my feelings away."

"Why don't you play them away?"

"What?"

He got up from the table and retrieved the violin and bow. "It seems like you might find some peace with this."

"I don't know if I can play now."

"Why not?" he challenged.

"It's her violin."

"When you're playing, it will be yours. Come on." He held out the violin, and after a moment, I took it. "Don't think, just play."

"Easier said than done."