The Rules of You and Me Read Online Free Page B

she hefted the boxes into my arms.
    They were heavier than they looked and paint fumes rose up from the cardboard, stinging my nose. Ashton picked up the stack of canvases and hefted them onto her shoulder as she walked out of the room. I followed behind, noticing how Ashton seemed to know the house well enough to know exactly where she was going.
    In the hall, Ashton reached up to pull at the string to the attic. The wooden ladder unfolded and then Ashton began to climb, expertly keeping the canvases balanced on her shoulder as she went up. My mouth went dry as I looked up at the ladder. I’d always had a fear of heights. Anything over three feet above ground was enough to make me dizzy.
    “ Bring those boxes up,” Ashton called back to me as she disappeared into the hole in the ceiling.
    It’s just an attic, I told myself. Taking a deep breath, I put one foot on the bottom step. I tried to see over the side of the boxes in my arms to watch my footing, but it was nearly impossible. The only good thing about that was that I also couldn’t see how high up I was. I went up the ladder slowly, carefully finding each step with only my foot as my pulse pounded in my ears.
    I climbed into a small attic area and quickly moved away from the gaping doorway in the floor. The roof was low, the exposed rafters only an inch above our heads. Exposed bulbs lit the room and the floor had been finished with sheets of plywood. All around the attic were canvases stacked against the angled walls and some on easels. Most had only bits of paint splashed across them, leaving pencil outlines uncolored. Others were completely blank.
    Aunt Lydia sat on a wooden stool in front of an easel, a paintbrush in one hand. The easel was turned so that we couldn’t see the painting on the canvas from where Ashton and I stood.
    “ Working hard?” Ashton asked as she placed the blank canvases on a table. She gestured for me to set the boxes down nearby.
    Aunt Lydia wiped her brow with the back of her hand. It was so hot in the attic already I didn’t know how she could stand to sit up there for long. “Not working enough,” she said. “If I did, maybe I’d actually finish something.”
    “ You’re going through a dry spell,” Ashton told her.
    “ I’m going through a dry life ,” Aunt Lydia corrected. She tossed the paintbrush onto the table and then stood, stretching.
    “ This is your studio?” I asked as I looked around the dusty attic. Sweat prickled along my hairline as the heat closed in on me.
    “ I was going to use the guest room,” Aunt Lydia told me, “but then I thought maybe I’d better save it for, you know, actual guests. Be thankful you’re not stuck smelling turpentine while you sleep.”
    “ Seriously,” Ashton said. She picked up one of the canvases and handed it to Aunt Lydia. “This is the closest I could find to what you wanted. It’s not quite right, but maybe it’ll work?”
    Aunt Lydia scrutinized the canvas. “Maybe. I don’t know. I had this dream about the perfect painting and the size of the canvas was so clear in my head. It’s silly, but I thought if I could find that size, maybe I could paint the picture and finally finish something.” She laughed. “It probably doesn’t matter. I’m a failure regardless.”
    “ Don’t talk like that.” Ashton turned to me, frowning. “Tell your aunt not to talk like that.”
    Ashton seemed to be waiting for me to actually follow her orders, so I said, “Um, don’t talk like that?”
    Aunt Lydia rolled her eyes. “Thanks, girls. But maybe it’s time I admit the truth. My painting days are behind me. I should go back to overseeing other artists’ work and give up on my own. It won’t be the first thing I’ve given up in my life.”
    I wondered what else Aunt Lydia had given up, but Ashton spoke before I could. “I don’t want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, Lydia Montgomery. You are not a failure. You’re a genius. One day the rest of