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“Can I get in, or what?” She’s all tumbled curls, big pleading eyes, and pouty lips. How am I supposed to resist? I’m not sure why I’m even trying. I can worry about dying tomorrow.
Grumbling, I scoot over and lift the covers. Stella scrambles in. Instantly, my bed is a better place, filled with her soft, warm, wiggling body. And I do mean wiggling. She reminds me of a puppy as she burrows under the covers and claims a spot as close to me as she can get. I laugh softly and slide an arm under her neck, bringing her head onto my shoulder.
Stella rests her hand on my chest and sighs. “That’s better.”
Understatement. Smiling, I press my lips to the top of her head. “Comfortable?”
“Yes.” She wiggles again, and the pullout couch screeches in protest.
“Shhh!” I swear, I’m freaking sweating. “Quiet.”
Stella rolls her eyes. “My God, you’re acting like an agitated cat.”
I glare down my nose at her. “Did you not notice the actual swords hanging over our heads right now?” Hank has a collection of them. Along with a fair number of hunting knives. He made sure to show them to me.
Her cheeks plump. “They’re only for decoration.”
“Uh-huh. Sure, they are. Tell me, Button, you ever bring a guy over here? Are their bodies buried in the garden?”
“You’re the first. But I’ll be sure to tell your story if you don’t make it out.”
“Your concern is touching. Really.”
Stella softly laughs, a breath of sound that makes my heart trip. Yes, my freaking heart is fluttering over a laugh. I seriously don’t recognize myself. And I don’t care.
“You’re really going to end the friend service?” The words are out of my mouth without forethought.
Her fingers tense and press into my chest before relaxing. “I love helping people, making them feel less lonely.” A light breath gusts across my skin. “But it’s getting to the point where my job makes me feel lonely. I’m starting to resent it, and that’s never good.”
“What, then? You’ll be a flight instructor instead?”
“I don’t know.” Her fingers trace an idle pattern on my chest. “I’d have to become certified. The job doesn’t pay very well, and it isn’t easy getting here from the train station, so I’d definitely have to move out of the city.”
I will myself not to tense, but I can feel my muscles stiffening anyway. Stella clearly feels it too. Her palm smooths over my skin. “I don’t want to leave the city. It’s my home.” She glances up at me. “Is it ridiculous to cling to an area I can’t afford just because it’s familiar?”
“Button, you said it yourself—it’s your home. More than anyone I know. Why would it be ridiculous to want to stay?”
“I’m thirty years old, and I haven’t got a clue. I just wish I knew what to do with myself. I was always so focused on having fun in the now that I never planned for the ‘what now?’”
In that way, Stella and I are alike. The future is a dark, nebulous place that I’ve never wanted to contemplate. Mostly because when I think of it, I see myself alone, irrelevant, and adrift. I tell myself I don’t mind being alone. At this point, I’ve been on my own more than half my life. But after the music stops and the friends are off doing their own thing, all I feel is empty. I’ve tried to fill that hole with constant partying, hookups, traveling from place to place. But it’s still there.
I don’t want that for Stella either. She’s too full of joy and life to feel adrift. “If you could have anything you wanted, anything and money is no object, what would it be?”
She’s silent for a while, clearly thinking the question over. Then she speaks, hesitant, as if the admission costs her. “A home. Something permanent. Something that’s mine.”
I ache for her. “What would it look like?”
She shifts a little, settling in more comfortably. “In the city. A house on a little street, where it’s private but close to everything. An older house with character and charm, and a rooftop garden to plant tomatoes and flowers, and I can soak in the sun.”
I can practically see it. “And a woodburning fireplace,” I add. “You have to have that so you can curl up and read on cold nights.”
“Sounds like heaven,” she says with a sigh.
I picture her there, in that cozy home, filled with books and flowers and music. Filled with the light of Stella. “Yes, it does.”
“I envy you,” she says before I can speak again.
“Why?” I hope she doesn’t mean the fame because that is a double-edged sword.
“Are you kidding me? You have this incredible talent and are at the top of your profession. Do you know how rare that is?”
I do. Or I thought I did. Funny thing is, it takes Stella’s quiet awe to really hammer that home. Even so, I have to be honest with her. “It seems to me that you can have one aspect of your life in perfect order and the rest can be going up in flames.”
