Page 42 of Western Waves

“In the foster system?” I asked. He nodded. “How many homes have you been a part of, if I may ask?”

“Too many to count.”

That made my heart ache for him. I couldn’t even imagine what that was like for him. If I didn’t have Kevin to take me in after my mother passed away, I could have ended up in the same type of situation. The more I learned about Damian, the more I was beginning to understand the hardened hummus.

He had to be tough his whole life because it probably felt as if he was being discarded so often. I’d have trust issues with people, too.

I wanted to say more, to try to learn more about him, but I knew pushing him for information wasn’t the best way to get to him. He’d clam up quickly.

Instead, I thanked him again for the towel.

“Of course.” He rubbed his hand against his shoulder blade. “Isn’t that what a husband would do for a wife?”

Yes. I supposed it is.

10

Damian

Livingwith Stella for the first month of November went over easier than I’d expected. On the days we weren’t forced to spend the night at the house with one another, she went off with her boyfriend, Jeff. I had yet to meet him, but she talked about him as if he was the sun and the moon in the sky. Which probably meant he was no good. Stella seemed to wear rose-colored glasses for most individuals in the world—including me.

I didn’t stay at my apartment in town when I was free to leave the property. I didn’t see the point in uprooting my life on Wednesdays and Thursdays when I’d just have to end up back where I was two days later. Even though us living together was a new arrangement, I couldn’t help but admit that it felt hauntingly silent when Stella wasn’t in the house.

Whenever she was around, it felt as if the circus was in town. Not in an annoying way—okay, maybe a little bit in an annoying way—but also in the way that Stella simply added light to the place. She was always bringing in flowers to brighten up the home, and when she was there, all the lights in the house were switched on. It was as if she feared sitting in darkness for a moment too long. Plus, she talked to herself. When doing anything. With any task, either she was talking out loud or humming a tune as she shook her hips. I was exhausted by how bubbly her mere existence was. She seemed to be one of those people who were just happy. The kind of happy that didn’t need a reason to exist. Before Connor, I didn’t know those sorts of people were real. Now, it seemed that Stella was joining him in the corner of sunshine and rainbows.

When she wasn’t in the house, though, it went back to the gray skies and thunderstorms.

I was still getting used to living with another person. I hadn’t done it in such a long time. The last time was when I was fifteen and ran away from my foster home. After that, I’d been on my own.

When you were used to living on your own and then put in a situation to live with others, you became extremely aware of your small habitual behaviors, like washing dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Or tossing dirty clothes straight into the washer instead of into a basket. I couldn’t do that anymore because the washer was more of a community thing now.

Though, even with my grumpy mood, Stella didn’t do much to piss me off too much. She was a very clean and organized person. She hardly left anything out of place, and sometimes, she’d even ask me if I needed anything from the store when she went out. She was beyond considerate even though we had a rocky start.

I was somewhat surprised that her boyfriend didn’t wife her up already. I didn’t really do intimate relationships, but I could see Stella being a hot commodity to men. She was goofy, yes, but gentle, too. Kind and considerate. Beautiful. The kind of beautiful that sometimes made me stare when she wasn’t looking. Sometimes, I’d catch her in a room laughing by herself at something on her phone, and she’d toss her head back with such a look of glee. Her mouth would be wide open as she chuckled, and she’d even slap her thigh in jolly, completely losing herself in the moment. Sometimes, she’d even snort, and well… when I’d catch those moments in action, I understood what pure happiness looked like.

It made me envious. I could see it when I looked at her—that joy. My brain just couldn’t comprehend what something like that felt like.

I did sometimes wonder, though, what she’d be like if she got mad. Did she get mad? Did she ever snap? Or did she simply go from happiness to sadness? To hurt? I wondered what angry Stella looked like.

Though, I didn’t know why I was wondering at all. Still, every now and again, she’d show up in my thoughts while I was working.

Every evening, she’d go out to the water fully clothed and dive into the ocean, too. I began leaving her fresh towels out by the coast for her to use to dry off afterward. I never asked why she dove in fully dressed. I was certain she had her reasons. Reasons that I, or any other, didn’t need to understand.

I kind of hated my thoughts—how they allowed her to enter my psyche whenever they wished.

On Thanksgiving evening, I sat down in my office, trying to work. Stella had invited me to join her for their holiday dinner, but I wasn’t interested. Plus, I couldn’t fly back to celebrate with Connor and Aaliyah, seeing how I couldn’t be away from the house for more than forty-eight hours due to the will arrangement.

I also was trying to shake off an odd kink I had in my lower back from my weightlifting session earlier that day. It felt as if a ton of tension was pulling at it, and whenever I turned slightly, a shot of pain would course up my body. The discomfort was unruly, making it almost impossible to work.

A knock on my door broke me from my work and pain.

“Come in,” I called out.

Stella appeared with a smile against her lips because she always had a smile against her lips. “Hi, there.”

“Hello.”

“I brought you a plate from my Thanksgiving dinner and a spread of desserts, too. I put them in the fridge for you.”