Tears filled my eyes, and I tried to fight through the pain I felt in my arms that then started to wreak havoc on my whole body. My head started to spin again, and I dropped the brush, letting it crash to the floor as I gripped the countertop.
Calvin was there not a moment later. “Stella, are you okay?”
“I can’t do it.” It was silly, I was crying over struggling to brush my hair. But sometimes when you were sick, your thinkingwasn’t rational, and this was something I couldn’t control, even if I wanted to.
Calvin picked up the brush and wordlessly led me back to the living room. Sitting me on the edge of the chaise, he slowly knelt in front of me and gently placed a kiss on one cheek and then the other. His lips slowly trailed down the side of my face and more tears threatened to spill as he softly kissed these ones away.
He placed his forehead against mine, and only once our breaths matched did he arrange himself behind me, gently pulling all my hair to rest on my back as he started from the bottom and brushed every single knot out of my tangled hair.
He took care to thread his fingers through my hair as he brushed, making sure he got every strand, and only once he was sure he was finished he gathered all my hair and worked it into one long braid down my back. It was pointless to try and stop the tears. No one had ever treated my hair with so much attention and love before. Nick would scold me for how long it took me to get ready sometimes, he used my hair against me, and it was always there for him to pull or grab onto when he wanted to make a point.
Calvin wiped away my silent tears with his thumb and looked at me with the gentlest expression on his face. “Music always makes me feel better, no matter the situation. Can I play you a couple songs?”
“Yes, please, I would love that.”
He leaned over the side of the couch to grab a guitar. How many did this man have? There seemed to be a musical instrument within his reach at all times. I nestled myself into the corner spot of the sectional, bringing the blanket up to my chin as he strummed the first few cords. I thought he would just play, but then he started singing and his warm raspy voice soothed the very core of my being. I sunk into the comfort of the couch and the cadence of his voice as he sang about brown eyes and finding a better version of himself.
I couldn’t imagine anything better than the man who sat on this couch with me, and I wanted to tell him that, but I couldn’t find it in me to interrupt him.
He played a few different songs, and as my eyes started to lose the battle to fatigue I heard the beautiful notes of a song I didn’t recognize but felt like I knew it deep in my bones.
Stella made a gagging noise; except this time, it wasn’t because she was sick.
“I don’t know how you drink it like that,” she said as she poured ungodly amounts of cream into her coffee.
Though I scowled at her, her smile told me she knew I was only being playful. I would gladly take this version of her that incessantly made fun of me for my black coffee over the one that felt so weak she cried over the knots in her hair.
I could never see Stella as weak, and even when she felt that way, I wanted to be there to help pick her back up like I had these past few days.
Now that she was feeling better, she was getting ready to make her way back to the bed and breakfast, and it took everything in me not to ask her to stay.
We weren’t even dating, so it would be weird to ask her to move in with me, right? But in the days she was here, my house had finally felt like ahome,and I was worried that it would now face a deficit with her gone.
“What’s your plan for the day?” I asked.
Stella had gathered her things, one of them being her laptopfrom the bed and breakfast and had used my home office to print out a stack of papers she was now sorting through as she sipped her coffee.
“I’m going to look for a job.”
My brows furrowed as my gaze narrowed in on hers. I knew Grandma Trixie still wasn’t asking her to pay anything, she valued her company and the way Stella worked in her garden with her more than anything.
“Okay, grumpy eyebrows.” She giggled as she ran her thumb along the creases in my forehead that my scowl caused.
Her touch instantly relaxed me, but did not change my resolve. “You don’t need a job.” Maybe it was selfish of me, but I loved how she was always around.When I stopped by for breakfast on my way to work I’d often find her and Mom sitting on the deck. If I popped in for lunch or a break in the afternoon, she’d be with Grandma, baking or canning something. The evenings we’d all spend together as a family eating supper around Grandma’s table were my favourite and I didn’t want to miss a single moment of it.
Her face paled when she looked at me and her hand slowly receded back toward her. I wondered what I could have said that was so wrong. All I ever wanted was to take care of the women in my life and it was the same instinct I held for her.
Then the look in her brown eyes reminded me of another woman in my life. Mel.
When she came back from Vancouver she was a shell of herself. Dropping out of school for what she thought would make her life’s career really threw her for a loop and she’d been so lost. That harrowing look on her face still haunted my nightmares at times.
I tried everything in my power to help her. Attempted to step in anywhere she’d allow me to, picking up groceries or cleaning her house. But nothing seemed to bring that light back to her eyes untilshedecided to take the leap and accept the position ofmanaging Cupid’s Cup. It had been her favourite place growing up, and being given that opportunity sparked a new life in her that I hadn’teverseen—not even when she thought she wanted to be an actress. She quickly worked her way up and within months was the new owner of the joint.
I couldn’t be prouder of Mel and what she had accomplished, and it hit me like a ton of bricks that I had just tried to stop Stella from finding that same kind of fulfillment in life.
“I’m sorry, that was wrong of me to say,” I corrected, wanting to explain but not make her change her mind. “I know Grandma Trixie loves your company, but I want you to do whatever makes you happy.”
Her face softened and the colour came back to her expression. “Ilovethe time I get to spend with Trixie, believe me. But since we’ve finished harvesting everything from the garden there isn’t much to do right now. The last few months have felt like a vacation—one I’ve desperately needed, if I’m honest. But now I don’t need an escape.” She reached forward and grabbed my hand. “I want to build alife.”
