Chapter Sixteen
The Picnic
Quinn
There’s something oddly peaceful about waking up after a night that changed everything.
Not peaceful in the sense that my life is suddenly perfect. More like, quiet. Like the storm passed through and now the air feels different. Cleaner.
I blink awake slowly as sunlight filters through the curtains in my bedroom. For a moment I lie there staring at the ceiling while the events of last night replay in fragments.
The party. The hallway. Emette kissing Amanda. The sound my heart made when it felt like it shattered in my chest.
And Damien. Standing in the driveway. Following me and telling me the truth.
I’ve been waiting.
My stomach flips a little at the memory. Not in a bad way. Just, in a new way. Which is honestly confusing considering I broke up with someone less than twelve hours ago.
I roll onto my side and grab my phone from the nightstand. One new message. From Damien. My heart does a small, traitorous skip.
Damien: Still up for that picnic?
I stare at the message for a moment, then glance at the clock. 10:17 AM. Apparently he’s giving me time to sleep in. Which is considerate.
I type back quickly.
Me: Yes. Unless you changed your mind.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Damien: Already packing the truck.
A smile spreads across my face before I can stop it. That’s ... nice. Really nice.
And suddenly the thought of sitting in my house all day thinking about Emette feels a lot less appealing than spending time outside with Damien. I throw the blankets off and climb out of bed.
Picnic it is.
****
An hour later I’m standing in front of my closet trying to decide what exactly someone wears to a not-technically-a-date picnic with a guy who admitted he likes you. Which is a sentence I never expected to think in my lifetime.
My brain is deeply unhelpful. Because every option suddenly feels like it sends some kind of message. Too fancy. Too casual. Too obvious. Too confusing.
Finally I settle on a simple sundress. Light blue and comfortable. Normal. Nothing that screams I’m overthinking this. Which I absolutely am.
I pull my hair into a loose braid and grab my sandals just as my phone buzzes again.
Damien: Outside.
That was fast. I take one last look in the mirror.
You can do this, Quinn. It’s just a picnic, not a marriage proposal.
I smile at my reflection and head outside. Damien’s truck is parked at the curb in front of my house and he’s leaning against the side of it when I step onto the porch. My car is safely in its usual spot and I wonder who he asked to help him get it there.
And the moment he sees me, he smiles. That small, quiet smile of his.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Good morning.” I walk down the steps. “You’re punctual.”
“You said yes.”
“Good point.”
His eyes briefly scan my outfit before returning to my face. “You look nice.”
My cheeks warm slightly. “Thanks.”
“Are you ready?”
“Sure.”
He opens the passenger door for me again. Apparently this is a thing he does. And honestly? I don’t hate it.
The truck smells faintly like coffee and fresh bread when I climb inside.
“Is that...”
“Sandwiches.”
“You brought food.”
“You requested a picnic.”
“I didn’t request sandwiches.”
“Every picnic requires sandwiches.” He states it like it’s a universal fact.
“That sounds like a rule you made up.”
“It’s an important rule.”
I laugh softly as he starts the truck. “So where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“That sounds suspicious. Are you going to murder me?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Now I’m worried.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
We drive out of town for about ten minutes before turning down a narrow dirt road I’ve never noticed before. Trees line both sides of the path, their branches forming a leafy tunnel overhead. Sunlight filters through the leaves in soft patches.
“This is pretty,” I say.
“Wait.”
A minute later the trees open up into a small clearing.
At the center sits a wide grassy hill overlooking a quiet lake.
The water sparkles in the sunlight and a wooden dock stretches out over the surface.
Wildflowers grow along the edges of the field like someone planted them there on purpose and my jaw drops slightly.
“Wow.”
Damien parks the truck. “Told you.”
“This place is beautiful.”
“Found it a few years ago.”
“How?” I’m still staring through the windscreen in awe. How have I lived in Franklinton my entire life and never been here?
“I get bored doing paperwork.”
“That’s your adventure story?” I laugh as I stare at him.
“Pretty much.”
We climb out of the truck and he grabs a blanket from the back along with a small cooler.
“You came prepared,” I say.
“I take picnics seriously.”
“Clearly.”
We walk toward the hill overlooking the water and he spreads the blanket across the grass and opens the cooler. Sandwiches, fruit, and two bottles of lemonade.
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to.”
That simple sentence makes my chest feel warm. We sit down on the blanket and for a few minutes we just look out at the lake. It’s quiet here. No music. No people. Just birds chirping and the occasional ripple across the water.
“I needed this,” I say softly.
“Fresh air therapy.”
“Exactly.”
He hands me a sandwich. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I consider the question carefully. “I’m sad.”
“That’s understandable.”
“But I also feel ... lighter.”
He nods slowly. “Sometimes endings do that.”
I take a bite of the sandwich. Turkey and cheese. Perfectly simple.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“You keep asking me that.”
“And you keep answering.”
“Fair.”
“Did you really wait all this time?”
“For what?”
“For me.”
He shrugs slightly. “I didn’t think of it like waiting.”
“What did you think of it as?”
“Respect.”
The word lands softly between us. “You respected my relationship.”
“Yes.”
“Even though you didn’t like him?” I raise a brow.
“Yes.”
“That’s ... impressive.”
He chuckles. “It’s basic decency. I just want you to be happy. Whether that’s with Emette, or me, or someone else.”
Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. I sip the lemonade and the breeze lifts a few strands of my hair.
“Are you nervous?” I ask suddenly.
“About what?”
“This.”
He considers that. “A little.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to mess it up.”
“You’re doing pretty well so far.”
“That’s reassuring.”
We sit there for a while longer eating and talking. About small things. Funny stories from the shop. My baking experiments. His brothers.
And somewhere along the way I realize something surprising. I’m laughing, really laughing. Not the careful version I used around Emette lately but the real version. The one Damien mentioned the other day.
At one point we wander down to the dock and sit with our feet dangling over the water. The lake ripples gently beneath us.
“You know,” Damien says thoughtfully.
“What?”
“This is the first time we’ve hung out without cupcakes involved.”
I grin at him. “That’s true.”
“I’m slightly concerned.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure our friendship can survive without baked goods.”
I nudge his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Probably.”
I glance over at him and he’s watching the water. Calm, relaxed, and comfortable in the silence.
The realization hits me in that moment. Last night I thought my world ended but sitting here today, it feels like something else might be beginning. Something slower, gentler. Something that doesn’t make me feel like I have to prove I’m good enough.
I lean back on my hands and close my eyes for a moment. “Hey, Damien?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you followed me last night.”
He smiles slightly. “Me, too.”