Page 34 of Where the Stars Heal

Kids like I once was, where everything felt so scary. It could be a place where they come to escape, a place for them to breathe when the world feels too much. I could even offer art classes. Sadness creeps into me as I push away the thought. Having dreams that big is impossible for me.

My eyes dart around, taking in all the shelves. There are paints displayed like a rainbow on the left side of the store, canvases of all sizes lean against the back wall, and there are crayons, brushes, and all the supplies you could want scattered throughout the other shelves. I breathe it all in. Thescent of wood from the easels and the faint smell of paper and paints mixing together have my mind running wild with possibilities. A giddiness I haven’t felt in a long time slams into me.

I take in the front of the store and wave shyly at the guy behind the counter. He’s sitting back on a stool, drawing in a notebook that’s resting on his knee.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, he gives me a warm smile. “Hey, can I help you find anything?”

I take a small step toward the counter just as Asher appears next to me and my heart stutters at the sight of him. I completely forgot he was following behind me, and now his presence is overwhelming. He stands close to me, glaring at the guy who asked me a simple question. What the hell is his problem?

I close the distance to the counter. “I’m just after some charcoal and a new sketch pad.”

“Down there and to the back.” He points in the direction I need to go, his eyes flicking to Asher briefly before focusing back on his drawing.

Walking toward the back of the store, I find Asher creeping closer to me and glaring at anyone who looks our way as if he’s trying to protect me from the big bad strangers. I roll my eyes when he sends someone scurrying away with only a look. The fear I had on the drive over here is slowly morphing into irritation the longer he breathes down my back.

“Please, Daddy. I want this one.”

“That one is way too expensive and big for you. What about this one, baby?”

“But I want this one.”

I look over to see a little girl pouting at her dad, holding a scrapbook the same size as her tiny body to her chest. Ismile at the sight. The enthusiasm and excitement are radiating off her, but as I look at her dad, he seems stressed. Holding the back of his neck with his brows furrowed, he’s clearly torn on what he should do here.

I gravitate toward them and offer the dad a small sympathetic smile as I near. When he spots me, he mouths,Help meand I chuckle lightly.

Feeling the heat of Asher behind me, I spin on my heel, hair whipping around me as I shoot a glare at him.

“You stay,” I say, my voice laced with irritation. “I don’t want you scaring the little girl.” My tone drops to a whisper so she doesn’t hear me.

As I turn back to face the little girl, I swear I catch a glimpse of Asher’s lips tugging up in amusement.

Shaking Asher from my mind, I kneel down to the little girl. She has big, wide, chocolate eyes with long golden hair and the cutest cheeks I’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” I say to her with a wide smile. “Did you know that the sketchpad your daddy has,” I flick my eyes up to her dad, and she follows my gaze. Taking the sketchpad from him, I bring it down and hold it out to her, “is a professional sketchpad? These are the best kind to draw in and perfect for using cool water paints.”

I reach for the cheap kid-friendly water paints on the shelf next to her, the kind Stacey’s kids back home loved, and they don’t break the bank. I hold them out to her.

“Really?” she asks, her voice sweet but skeptical.

“Sure, look,” I say, grabbing for my worn sketchpad out of my bag. I show her the exact same one and flip through the pages, hoping she’ll want the same.

Her tiny hands stop me on a page, and I glance at her to see her little mouth popped open in awe and her eyes bouncing between my sketch and the man behind me.

Heat floods my cheeks, and my heart skips as she says, “Wow, that’s him! You are a really good drawer.”

Before I can react, I hear Asher’s quiet steps creep closer, and panic surges in my chest. I quickly turn the page to cover the sketch of him that I did the week we met. I never had any intention of showing anyone my sketches, especially him.

I glance up, and my breath catches. He’s staring down at me, a softness in his gaze that I can’t quite make sense of.

“Okay, Daddy,” the little girl pulls my attention back to her, “I want this one because it’s the same one she has, and I want to be a good drawer just like her one day.”

My heart squeezes at her words. She has the whole world ahead of her, and I silently hope that she never gives up on her dreams, big or small.

“And the best part is,” I add, standing up with a smile, “you can take it everywhere with you because it’s not as big as the other one.”

Her dad sighs with relief as he looks at me gratefully. “Thank you. I don’t know how that would have gone if you didn’t step in.”

Tucking my sketchpad back into my bag and picking up my new supplies, I shift on my feet. Kids have always been easy for me to interact with. They don’t judge or ask questions. They just offer contagious smiles and endless excitement.

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