“See that hospital over there?” Wes pointed inland. I nodded. “That’s where I was born, to two people who never should have had children.” I wanted to turn to Wes for this, but I felt like keeping my attention away from him would make him more comfortable, so I stared at the hospital.

“What happened with your dad?” I asked the question I’d always been curious about. For as long as I knew Wes, I’d never heard anything about his dad.

“When I was three, my dad was arrested for dealing.”

“Drugs?” I said louder than I intended and whipped my head to him.

“Drugs.” He nodded and kept his eyes trained on the hospital. “Not too far from that is where I lived with my mom up until she was arrested for possession. Of drugs.” His eyes met mine briefly in the smallest smirk I’d ever seen on Wes’ face. “I don’t remember much from that age, but I guess she used heavily and left me with the neighbor most of the time. She tried to get the county to leave me with her the day they took me away, but since she wasn’t a legal guardian, they couldn’t.”

“They took you away? From where?” I asked unable to take my eyes off of him.

“From my mom. She was declared unfit, and I was removed from the home and placed in foster care.”

I tried to catch the audible gasp I let out with my hands, but I’d missed. “Foster care? For how long?”

“Forever.”

“What?” I didn’t understand because when I met him, he was living with his mom. “But your mom?”

“Brenda isn’t my mom. My mom is somewhere out there.” He held his hand out into the clear night sky. “Probably high as a kite. Brenda was the last of my foster parents. I lived with her until I aged out at eighteen.”

I had so many questions. This was so much to hear, and I didn’t know where to begin. Wes took over the silence and continued talking.

“That was the first home I remember.” Wes pointed to an area closer to the coast. “The O’Donnels. They were an older couple, more like grandparents. They took real good care of me, though. I remember them asking me questions all the time. Questions about my favorite things to do, how my day was, if I was making any new friends, what did I want from the grocery store. It was nice.”

“The next house, right down there, wasn’t so nice. Miss Cindy had too many of us. She had two vans just to drive us around town, one she drove and one her daughter drove. I had a place to sleep, but I tucked myself in. I was always fed, but no one cared if I ate it or not. There were a lot of other kids to play with, but no one to talk to.”

“There’s an older neighborhood hidden in that patch of trees.” Wes pointed back toward the hospital again. “The couple I lived with there shouldn’t have ever been approved as foster parents.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him. His eyes met mine again. His brows furrowed and then turned downward at the corners.

“Dusty and Lena just weren’t very nice to me,” he said softly.

“What did they do to you?” I asked, feeling the warmth of anger in my chest.

“Enough that I was removed,” he said then pulled his eyes from mine. I crossed my arms over my stomach and pinched my eyes closed. I held back my tears, wanting to be strong for Wes.

“The next house I was at was great,” he said with a smile in his voice. “It was a Christian couple who had two kids my age. They were really kind. They sent me to a therapist who helped me get through a lot of the stuff I’d been dealing with. Actually, I contacted him when I turned eighteen and still visit him every so often.

“That was the family who really showed me how a family should be. And yours,” he said touching me for the first time when he reached out to pull my hands from where they were wrapped tightly around my stomach.

“The last house I lived in was Brenda’s. She wasn’t awful but not great, either. She was just…there. I’m most thankful for being sent to her though because that’s how I met Blue, August, and you.” He pulled my hand to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss.

There was no hiding the tears that I felt cascading down my face. Simply put, I was heartbroken. Wes had been in foster care nearly his whole life. I had no idea. No idea.

“Does anyone besides Blue know?” I asked him sniffling and gripping his hand in mine. I didn’t want him to pull it away just yet.

He nodded his head. “Ridge, his mom. Ridge’s social worker is the same one I had. He’s still considered in foster care, but his parents have been going through the process of adopting him.”

“That’s great.” I smiled, happy for Ridge but aching for Wes. Why wasn’t he adopted? As if hearing my question, he answered for me.

“My dad never gave up his rights to me. He convinced the system that he was trying to get his shit together for me over and over again. That’s why I could never be adopted. The Christian family, the Davison’s, they wanted to.” He took a slow deep breath then let go of my hand and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Carefully and so gently, he pulled it apart one soft fold at a time. He held the paper out to me, and it wobbled in the space between us. It wasn’t windy out.

I took the paper and stared. Holy crap.

“My mermaid. Your marlin. Wes, what is this?”

“It’s a sketch my dad did. One of the only good memories I have of him. Hell, one of the only memories I have of him was the day he drew this picture and told me the story of the marlin and the mermaid.”

“He’s who you get your talent from,” I observed, tracing the outline of the sketch with my finger. It really did resemble Wes’ own artwork, embodying his knack for realism mixed in with an ethereal quality I’d only seen done by him.

“I guess so.” Wes looked out into the distance toward the ocean. “My passion for it is my own, though.”

“Of course,” I said, understanding his need to separate himself from his dad.

“So what’s the story that goes with this?” I asked looking toward the blackened ocean.

“The marlin was a brave and strong fish. Time and time again, he was caught by fishermen but wrestled himself free of the nets.”

“Kind of like Hemingway,” I said

A dry laugh escaped from him. “The only book I actually read in high school. Took me forever.”

“So where does the mermaid come in?” I asked noticing how exact this sketch was to the mermaid Wes had painted on me.

“Well, the marlin was a stubborn fucker and liked to mess with the fishermen. Each time he saw a boat approach, he put on a show for the fishermen, doing swan dives and belly flops.”

“Wow.” I giggled softly, and Wes peered at me out of the corner of his eye with a small grin.

“Until he was caught again.” He looked back into the darkness. “This time the marlin was over it, and rather than fighting for his freedom, he let go and sunk into the net.

“He thought he was dreaming when he saw her swimming up toward him through the depths of the ocean. Her golden hair mixing in swirls and smears with the water.” I smiled at his description of the mermaid. I loved when this side of Wes slipped through, the side that forgot who he was trying to be, and revealed the sublime center of his soul.

“The mermaid approached the marlin and worked quickly to untie the knots of the net. The ropes slipped from the marlin, and he watched the net sink to the bottom of the ocean.”

“She set him free.” I smiled at the sketch and passed it back to Wes. He folded it up carefully and stuffed it back into the deepest corner of his pocket.

“She did.” He turned toward me, pulling my hands into his. “Capri, you’re perfect.”

“Wes,” I laughed, “I’m so far from perfect.”

“To me you are, though. You deserve the same.” He looked up into my eyes, stilling the breath in my chest. “And I want to be him. I want to be the guy you deserve.” His thumbs ran over the skin of my hand quickly. I squeezed to steady their movement.