Ty Donovan's Arc

Chapter 12 of 1

The morning after the crowd went home, Ty sat in his truck and made a plan. He wanted a first date that fit Olivia. His old habit pulled at him. Rent a boat. Fill a field with lights. Something huge she'd never forget. But Olivia hated finished things handed to her. She liked what grew slow. He gripped the wheel and made himself think smaller. He thought of the clearing where he'd first played for her. He thought of what she'd said about tending things with her own hands. Then he had it. He texted her one line. Meet me at the clearing. Bring nothing. She wrote back a question mark, then, Fine. Noon. Ty got there early. He almost overdid it again. He'd bought too many string lights and caught himself winding half of them back up. He kept it plain instead. He spread a checkered blanket and set out a basket, a bottle, two glasses, and a small vase with two flowers. Beside the blanket he stood two little easels side by side. Blank canvases. A cluster of paint jars and brushes between them. He tucked the extra lights over his truck bed for later, blankets and pillows piled soft in the back. Olivia walked in at noon. She stopped when she saw the easels. "You painted?" "No. We do." Ty rubbed his neck. "I wanted to give you a whole thing. A finished night. I know you don't like that." He nodded at the empty canvases. "So we make it ourselves. We eat. Then we paint the clearing while it's still today. So we keep the now instead of buying it." Olivia looked at the blank canvas a long moment. "That's not a grand gesture," she said. "That's actually good." The corner of her mouth lifted. "Sit down before you talk yourself into fireworks." They ate on the blanket. She poured the wine. Ty made her laugh telling how he'd almost strung a hundred lights and quit halfway. She leaned into him and the guarded thing she carried loosened. When the food was gone, they took up brushes. She painted the tree line in greens. He painted her hair wrong and she fixed it, her hand over his on the brush. Paint got on her wrist. She wiped it on his cheek and grinned. He kissed her, slow, tasting wine. She kissed him back and didn't pull away first. "I don't do this easy," Olivia said against his mouth. "You know that." "I know." "But I think I'm falling for you anyway." She said it plain, like a fact she'd checked twice. Ty held still. He'd wanted those words for years. And under his joy sat the thing he still hadn't said. She was falling for him while he kept his brother's secret. The clearing they were painting was the same forest where Ryan's stolen boards had built the treehouse. Ty looked at their two canvases and knew the secret couldn't wait much longer.