10. Joey
Chapter 10
Joey
The first thing I notice when I crack open my eyes is just how dark it is. My mind fogs in confusion. It has to be morning. After a few blinks, the dots start connecting in my mind. I’m not out in the living room anymore. I’m downstairs in the Den.
Expectantly, I reach over, but all I find is an empty bed. I scan my surroundings and see that my phone has been plugged in to the charger on the nightstand. When I lift it to check the time, I’m shocked to see that it’s almost noon. I ignore the date on the screen—it’s just another day—and set the device down again.
A day I’m looking forward to for once, because I get to hang out with all four of my guys. No obligations. No jaded memories. Just the five of us together.
I shoot up to sitting but instantly regret it.
My legs ache, and my stomach muscles feel like they’ve been put through the wringer. I’m embarrassingly sore. Especially considering I didn’t do much except cling to Decker as he dragged me around the ice rink last night.
Decker .
I fell asleep in his arms in front of the fire last night. Naked, sated, and happier than I’ve ever been in my life.
It’s that thought that spurs into action.
I’m wearing his shirt, so I leave that on and find a clean pair of sweatpants in a drawer. My toiletries bag is already in the en suite, so I take a few minutes to brush my teeth, take my meds, and swipe on deodorant and mascara. Throwing my hair into a messy bun is the final step before I leave the room and traverse the stairs.
I move stealthily up the open corridor, following the sound of my guys talking in the kitchen.
“Do you think we should wake her up?” Locke asks. He’s met with a chorus of objection from the others.
Smirking, I reach the landing, then pad through the great room until all four men come into view.
Except they’re not what catches my eye first.
Shit on a crumbly cracker.
There are balloons. Poorly placed streamers. An absolutely massive pile of stuff sitting on the table. But it’s the banner strung up along the wall that confirms the rapid-fire pulsing of my heart isn’t in vain.
Happy Birthday Joey .
Fuck .
There’s a ringing in my ears. Little spots dance in the periphery of my vision. I feel myself slipping, falling back into a darkness I didn’t even realize I was at risk of stumbling upon today.
At some point while I’m trying to steady my breathing, the guys notice my presence and swarm. I’m being passed around from one person to the next—and not in the fun way—as each of my men hugs me and wishes me a happy birthday.
By the time Decker releases me, my lungs have seized and I can’t breathe.
No one seems to notice that I’ve gone catatonic.
I’m ushered over to the table. It feels like everyone’s trying to talk at once.
There are wrapped gifts, along with several items just there on display. I spot a new Kindle and a pair of green Airpods Max headphones. There’s a super cute loungewear set I can barely stand to look at. Not because it doesn’t look ridiculously soft and cozy, but because what it symbolizes.
They didn’t do this at Christmas. We exchanged gifts, but everything was low-key, thoughtful, and in Kylian’s case, practical.
How did this happen? And how the hell am I going to put a stop to this onslaught? They weren’t even supposed to know about today.
Before I have the chance to utter a word, Kendrick is before me, opening up a jewelry box and presenting it with a flourish.
When I meet his gaze, he’s grinning from ear-to-ear.
They all are.
Shit.
Not only is this my literal nightmare, but now I’m about to be the bad guy.
“What is all this?” My voice comes out cold and impartial. On the inside, I’m fighting like hell to hold back tears.
Nicky steps forward. The joy emanating from him kills me.
“It’s all for you, Hot Girl. We know it’s your birthday. We wanted to make it extra special since it’s the first time we’re celebrating together.”
I give up on trying to hold back tears. They fall freely as I shift my focus to resisting the urge to scream.
My stomach twists, and it feels like there’s a deadweight smashing into my chest. It’s too much. Too real. Too intense for me to hold inside.
I watch the scene transform before my eyes. The way their expressions change. The way the energy in the room morphs into an acrid poison.
I watch as the realization sinks in for each of them. They see it now. That I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for this. And that despite their sweet intentions and kindness, I can’t help but feel angry.
With a forceful sniffle, I swipe the tears off my cheeks.
“I don’t want to celebrate my birthday,” I state plainly. My voice is shaky, but I know I have to stay true to myself. I look at each of them, making sure they hear what I say next. “I didn’t ask for any of this, and you shouldn’t have done it. Please get rid of it all. I’m going to go outside and get some fresh air.”
With that, I grab a random half-full coffee mug off the kitchen island, snag a blanket from the living room, and turn my back on my guys.