Page 28 of Never Kiss Your Neighbors

“Company is nice,” she says, and I couldn’t agree more.

I’d gladly give up my nightly jogs and walk with her instead.

“Jessie’s still talking about game night at your house,” Stella says.

“We’ll have to do it again soon, then. Jessie’s a really smart kid.” It’s the kind of thing I might say to make someone feel good, but in this case, I mean it.

“Thanks. I think so too.”

It would be so easy to take Stella’s hand, and I’d really like to, but being with her is like spotting an elusive animal in the forest. I don’t want to make any sudden moves and scare her off.

We reach her house much too quickly.

“Well, it was nice running into you,” she says. “Thanks for helping me rein in Goldfish.”

“Of course. Any time you need protection from the rabbits that run wild around here, I’m your guy.”

Hearing her laugh is like winning a million dollars.

“Good night,” she says with a small wave.

It’s like I’m bringing her home after a date, and all I can think about is how it would be to kiss her.

CHAPTER19

STELLA

“Are you ready for your call with Dad?” I watch Jessie’s face for any signs of sadness or stress, but her response is neutral, as if I’d asked her if she was ready to have dinner or run an errand with me.

“Sure.” She puts the crayon she was using back in its box, closes the lid, and follows me out to the dining room for a video chat on my laptop.

Brandon isn’t a super-involved father. He does consistently help out financially, which he’s legally required to do, but it’s a small amount because he doesn’t have a great job. Despite completing his engineering degree, while I had to drop out to take care of Jessie, he works in maintenance at a hotel and doesn’t make much.

He cares about Jessie, but the two of them never formed much of a bond. I never badmouth him, and several years ago, I suggested things he could do to help improve his relationship with his daughter, but he wasn’t much for following through. Jessie seems content with how things are, so it’s fine with me.

Unlike my mom and stepdad, he’s been supportive of our move, and I’m grateful for that. He understands that I really didn’t have any other options.

He used to visit Jessie about once a month, or sometimes only every other month, but now we do video calls.

“Hi, Dad,” Jessie says when we’re connected. Her voice is like someone starting a business meeting. Not excited, but not upset, either. I say hello to him, and then let the two of them talk alone while I put away dishes in the kitchen.

Several minutes later, when I hear them wrapping up their conversation, I go in to close the call.

“How was your visit with Dad?” I ask her.

“It was good.”

I keep watching for some kind of emotion or longing for him after these calls, but there doesn’t seem to be any there.

Later, after Jessie’s in bed, I go out to the back porch to relax. It was a warm day and the house feels stuffy.

After I’m outside for about ten minutes, a bad smell arrives on the breeze, and I quickly identify it as pot. I’ve smelled it out here before and a couple of times out in the neighborhood while walking the dog.

The neighbors next door are older; they must be in their yard smoking. I tried it once at college and didn’t like it, but I’ve heard that some people smoke it at night to help them sleep better.

Despite my better instincts, I find myself hoping to see the neighbors who live behind me, but things are quiet over in their yard.

I close my eyes and let out a sigh. I should just go to bed, but it feels so nice outside, despite the unpleasant smell. Maybe there are relaxing properties to secondhand marijuana smoke, because I’m getting sleepy.

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