Page 84 of Western Waves
I woketo the smell of food. The smell of chocolate chips filled the space, and my stomach growled from the mere smell of the baked goods.
Rolling out of bed, I glanced at my phone.
1:03 p.m.
That was the latest I’d slept in in a long time, but to be fair, Stella and I didn’t get home from the emergency room until around six in the morning.
I pulled myself out of bed and paused the moment I heard singing outside my door.
There was a knot in my chest as the sounds emerged. “Wake up, grumpy face, time for your morning happy taste.”
It turned out the knot in my chest wasn’t a knot. It was my heart. My heart was skipping. My heart was skipping because of her. Stella singing outside of my door with a voice that reminded me of a heaven that I hadn’t even known I’d believed in made my heart skip.
Beat, beat, skip, skip.
All because of her.
I stood, walked over to my door, and opened it. There she stood with a tray in her hands and a lopsided smile plastered across her face as she balanced her body on crutches and held a tray of food in front of her, with a black rose sitting in a small vase.
“Jesus, Stella, what are you doing?” I griped, taking the jam-packed tray from her hold. “You shouldn’t be carrying all of this. How’s your ankle?” I asked, concerned that she was doing too much on her injury.
She pulled up her sweatpants and showed me her ankle, which luckily was down in size. Still swollen, but worlds of improvement.
“It hurts, but I’m okay,” she said quickly.
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you drunk still?”
Her head shook. “No.”
That muscle in my chest?
Beat, beat, skip, skip.
“You didn’t have to cook for me.”
“I owe you a lot more than a plate of food. This isn’t even just for last night. It’s for every day that led to today. Every moment you chose to be honest with me. Even when it hurt.”
The left side of my mouth twitched a little. “Can I tell you some corny shit?”
“I love corny shit.”
I couldn’t believe I was about to say what I was about to say, but I couldn’t help it. I cleared my throat, feeling ridiculous. “You do something to me that I didn’t know I was able to do anymore.”
“Like what?”
“You make me care again.”
She smiled, and man, that smile…
I felt a tug in my chest that I hadn’t even known I could feel, so I shifted the conversation to something not as foreign to me. “Did you take your meds?”
“I did.” She blushed a bit and shrugged. “Thank you for caring.”
“Thank you for making me.”
She nervously balanced on the crutches and looked down at the wooden floor. “Anyway, I wanted to bring you breakfast. I whipped up some pancakes with apple pieces and chocolate chips.”
“That’s my—”