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“Do you want me to show you which brush you need?” Eric came up for air to check on me.
I thought he was so absorbed in his own work, he wasn’t paying attention to anyone else.
Before I could answer, he rummaged through the can containing several brushes and pulled one out. “This one.” He put it in my palm, then searched through the paint bottles. “Mix this and this.” He set two apart from the others and waited until I did as he told me.
Uncertainly, I squirted some sap green and titanium white on the palette.
“Take your brush and do this.” He demonstrated with his own paint.
I attempted to mimic him and ended up with a blob of white paint in the green. At a loss, I tried again and made more of a mess.
“That’s great,” Eric encouraged. “Grab a little more green and it will be perfect.”
It wasn’t even close to perfect, but I appreciated his positivity. He truly was an incredible person.
Lexie wore a small smile, her canvas abandoned to watch Eric attempt to teach me. I liked how she took joy from the little things. Would I ever do that?
And I realized I just had.
Painting made me incredibly uncomfortable because I preferred to excel at anything I did. Creativity wasn’t my strong suit. But Eric taking the time to help me brought me . . . happiness. And it was because he was so genuinely selfless, something I had so little experience with in life. Until Lexie and Eric crashed into my life.
“Put color on the canvas,” Eric said. “We’re going to make happy little trees.” He was gleeful at the prospect.
Tentatively, I brushed a stroke on the blank white canvas. It was uneven. The color was off compared to the instructional video. And it was the wrong angle.
“Perfect.”
It was anything but, though I appreciated the sentiment. So much so that I dipped the brush in the paint a second time and made another swipe on the canvas. It too was out of place, but when Eric nodded his approval, it didn’t matter.
Brush in hand, I looked down the row of easels at my family. Not so long ago, this scenario would’ve been impossible. Beau may have been able to drag me to an art class, but I certainly wouldn’t have participated.
And for the longest time, it had been just the three of us. Me, Beau, and Teague. Now Pepper and Miss Adeline were part of that. So were Lexie and Eric.
Family.
I’d spent my entire existence making certain my brother and sister were protected and happy. That would never change. But it finally occurred to me.
While continuing to do those things, I could be happy too.
And sitting in a community center painting with the people who meant most to me made me extraordinarily happy.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lexie
“Who invited him?”
I whipped my head around to see who Beau was pointing at. A tall, brutally handsome man stood in the doorway to the rescue. He was solid muscle, which was easy to see even in his jeans and long sleeved FDNY T-shirt. And his grin was all kinds of amused.
“I did.” Teague strode over, actually dressed very similar to the man. He held up his hand. “Glad you could make it, Cal.”
He slapped Teague’s hand. “Hope I’m not late.”
“Right on time. We were about to head up for dinner.”
And I was starving. After the art class, Teague and Pepper headed back to Grey Paws to do their evening routine. Lincoln, Eric, Beau, and I had stopped by the commercial kitchen to make the batch of dog food for the next day. With the storage situation, there was no choice but to do most of it daily. Then we’d met back at the rescue for a late dinner.
It appeared we were adding to the party, and I’d have to hand it to Teague. He got an A+ for choosing guests with eye appeal.
