Davin
The front door slammed shut somewhere behind her, but I made no move to follow.
I remained where I was, standing in front of the easel with my eyes fixed on the unfinished sketch.
The studio had gone quiet again. Just me, the charcoal dust clinging to my fingers, and the woman staring back at me from the paper.
Or at least my attempt at her.
I studied the lines for a long moment before setting the charcoal down and dragging a hand across my jaw.
It wasn’t right.
Not yet.
The posture was there. The shape of her mouth. The stubborn lift of her chin whenever she thought someone was being challenging. But the eyes still felt wrong.
And that was the problem.
It was always the eyes.
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed a hand across my jaw.
The truth was, Jasmine had been livin
