“Itissort of therapeutic,” I agree, layering in more cheese.
“Is painting therapeutic for you?” Ethan tilts his head at me.
“I guess…” Images of my paintings flash before my eyes, memories of each feeling and emotion that went into them hitting me suddenly. “In a way. It was…I had control over what I painted, you know?” I give him a sheepish smile. “I may not have been able to decide anything else in my life, but the lines, the colors, the images that ended up on the canvas…those were a result of my choices.”
What…what happens when I paint again? Will I still enjoy it? Or did I only love it because it was a way to take a sliver of freedom? Now that I am free…will I still find the same joy?
I know I had fun when painting with Teddy, but that was different. It was part of a game…a date. The thought of no longer loving the one way I could escape my parents’ tyranny makes my heart sink.
“What are you worried about, Little Bird?” Ethan’s finger under my chin has me looking up, blinking away tears.
I sniffle, shaking my head. “It’s stupid, really.”
The spoon in my hand clatters to the ground as I’m gathered in his arms, my face buried in his chest. “Tell me.” His voice is quiet. “Please?”
A shaking sigh leaves me, and my voice is muffled as I talk into his shirt. “I just don’t know who I’ll be if I don’t paint anymore.”
I can hear the frown in his voice. “Why wouldn’t you paint anymore?”
“What if I was only in love with painting because it was something I could do outside my parents control?”
He’s silent for a moment, before he presses a kiss to my hair. “Then we’ll find something else you love doing.”
“But painting is the only thing I’mgoodat—”
He huffs. “You only think that because you’ve never had the opportunity to explore other skillsets.” My chin props up on his chest, looking up at him. His eyes shine down on me with warmth and determination. “I promise, Wren. If your love for art has burned out, we’ll find something else.”
“But…what if I don’t want something else?”
“Then we’ll light the flame again.”
Something about the finality in his voice settles me.
As if the possibility of anything else happening is nonexistent.
As if what he’s saying is absolute truth and there’s no world where it doesn’t turn out that way.
As if…no matter what, everything will turn out okay.
The tension leaves my body, and I smile. “Okay.”
His expression softens as he reaches to push my hair back. “You trust me that much?”
“Of course I do, Bossy Bear.”
He huffs a laugh. “Does that make you Bratty Bear?”
I frown. “No. I’m your Little Bird.”
“How would a relationship between a bear and a bird work?” His eyes twinkle with mirth.
I roll my eyes playfully. “The bear protects thebird, obviously.”
A smile lights up his face. “And the bird flits between the bears, singing sweet songs and making their days brighter with her mere presence.”
My heart thumps a little harder. “And the bird is free to do that, because she knows her four bears are there to keep her safe.”
“The bears will eat any threat to their little bird.” His words hold promise as he leans down and presses a kiss to my lips.
