Chapter 29
Yesterday, something happened to Tabby at the pizzeria. I guess her friends showing up really put a damper on things. She was still cute and bubbly when we talked and held hands, but I could tell something was eating at her.
I hope she knows I’ve forgiven the past. She hasn’t attacked Jamie, so we’re good. Although, it sounds like Jamie went off on Freddy. I might have to chat to her about backing off when it comes to Tabby and her brothers.
Man, I can’t imagine this version of Tabitha betraying me. My gut would be screaming at me to investigate her further if I had any doubts. But I don’t. And that’s why—today, on my birthday—all my friends will know how I feel about Tabitha Jones.
She’s too special to hide in an alcove or wait around on an empty soccer field. I want her by my side, and my friends are about to deal with it.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the usual birthday shenanigans that’ll happen today. Inevitably, my thoughts fall on Milo. I’m inspired by how Freddy supported Tabitha and brought her down to my game. How he stuck around until he felt she was safe with me.
That’s how brothers should be. Brothers should be supportive.
With buzzing energy, I slip out of bed and pace out of my bedroom. Passing the bathroom, I close in on Milo’s bedroom door. Without second guessing it, I turn the handle and let myself in.
Draped in a heavy blanket with his mop of hair swept across his face, and his ginger furball tucked into a ball at his feet, Milo lies on his stomach and makes sleeping sounds.
I edge across the plush carpet of his compulsively neat room and dive onto his bed, cuddling the blanketed shape of him.
Milo grunts awake, recoiling in a foetal position. His cat meows and escapes the bed as my weight sinks into the mattress.
“Happy birthday, baby bro!” I cheer, spooning him as he blinks his eyes open.
“Huh? Wha-wha… What?”
“Happy birthday,” I repeat. “It’s our birthday.”
He struggles against me, but I continue to hold him in place. “Why are you in here?”
“Good lord, Milo. Is it so hard for you to deal with me being nice?”
He nudges his elbow into me and finds the space to sit up. His soft brown hair stands on end and he squints at his surroundings. “Hand me my glasses, would ya?”
I turn to the nightstand and retrieve his clear-framed glasses.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, putting them on and then smoothing down his hair. “So, what were you saying?”
Okay, he’s really making it hard to keep my temper in check. “Happy—“
“No, I get that,” he says, cutting me off. “Why are you in here?”
I don’t know what he’s getting at. “To see you.”
His nose crinkles and he fiddles with his glasses as if they’ll help him hear me better.
“Milo?” It comes out of me softly as realization hits that he hasn’t said happy birthday back. He just stares at me like I have an ulterior motive.
Am I really that bad of a brother that he can’t see I’m trying to be nice?
Milo sits back against the pillows and sighs. “Sorry. I don’t think I was ready to wake up, and you’ve kinda thrown me.”
I grin, hoping he perks up. “Wasn’t it a good surprise?”
“To have you fling yourself on top of me and shout in my ear?” He winces. “Umm, no.”
I can’t help laughing as he recoils again. “Sorry, man. But you looked so peaceful. I couldn’t help myself.”
“You do hear yourself, right?”
I tilt my head. “Yeah?”
Milo cracks a smile, looking away from me as he shakes his head.
I pat his shoulder and shift to the edge of the bed. “Well, dude, I just wanted to see you, so mission accomplished.”
“What made you suddenly so sappy?”
I watch the skepticism shining in his eyes, and my soft spot for him grows. “Even though I don’t show it, I’m here for you, Milo.”
He’s still on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Okay?”
For the longest time, I’ve never thought my relationship with my brother should change. We butt heads over the most minor things. With major things, our tempers explode. Keeping some distance felt best for both of us.
But then I remember Tabby and her brother. She complains about him, but you can tell they both have each other’s backs. It’s also like that with Drew.
Tabitha’s brothers know about me. That I like her, and she likes me back. No one in my life knows how I really feel.
I take a deep breath in.
That should change now.
Heck, how many times can I kiss the girl and stay quiet about it?
“You know Tabitha Jones?”
Milo squints at me skeptically. “Yeah?”
“Well, I’m sort of dating her.”
“Sort of?” Milo echos, fixing his glasses. “How do you sort of date someone?”
I huff, exhausted already. “Okay, okay. I am dating her.”
“Really?” He winces. “Okay. Why are you telling me?”
“Because you’re my brother.”
“And?”
“Ugh. I just thought we shouldn’t have secrets. Like, it’d be a nice thing if I could at least tell my brother about the girl I’m seeing.”
“Oh, okay. Cool then.”
“I guess that’s as much enthusiasm as I’m gonna get from you,” I joke. “I thought I might get a smidge more from you, considering you’re the first person I’ve told.”
He chokes on an intake of air, knocking on his chest to cough. “Wait. I am?”
“Yeah.”
“Not Jamie? Not the other guys?”
“No, bro. You.”
Milo slips a hand beneath his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “Hang on a sec. Tabitha Jones? Isn’t she one of those mean girls?”
“Believe me, she’s better than those girls. You’ll see. She’ll finally get rid of them and their influence.”
“If you say so.”
“Can’t you say you’re happy for me?”
He tilts his head, getting a read on me. “Are you happy?”
I relax, letting my smile show. “I am. She’s incredible.”
“How long has this been going on for?”
“We’ve been getting closer for a while. We just didn’t want to say anything until we got to know each other better.”
“Makes sense, I guess.”
I pat Milo’s shoulder and move away from his bed. “Happy birthday, bro.”
“Happy birthday, Malakai. I’m happy for you.”
I smile at him over my shoulder. “Thanks, Milo.”
I leave Milo’s bedroom and cross the upstairs living room to reach the staircase. I leap onto the banister and slide down with a cheer.
“You’re not ten-years-old anymore,” Dad says with a chuckle, getting up from his armchair. “One day you’ll break it in two.”
“Calling me fat?” I joke.
Dad laughs. “No, I’m calling you old.” He meets me with his arms open. “Happy birthday, son.”
I hug him back. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Is Milo up?”
“I woke him, but he’ll probably take forever to come downstairs.”
Dad cups his hands around his mouth. “Presents, Milo.”
I rub my hands together. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
“Happy birthday,” Mom cheers, rushing out from the dining area. “Come here, come here.”
I wince, bracing myself to be squeezed. “Hi, Mom.”
Mom’s arms curl around me like pythons constricting their prey, and she kisses me too many times on the cheek. “Aww, you’re getting to be such a handsome young man.”
I retch, pulling away. “Okay, Mom, you’re cut off.”
Mom looks up at the second floor landing. “Is Milo up?”
“He was awake,” I say, just as Milo’s mop of hair comes into view.
He lazily pulls on a sweatshirt and meanders down the stairs.
“There’s my gorgeous boy,” Mom gushes.
Milo’s lip upturns, and he squints at her behind his glasses. “Eww.”
“Oh, hush and get over here,” Mom orders, the grin never leaving her face.
Both our parents squeeze Milo between them. Serves him right for not getting out of bed sooner.
“Someone said something about presents,” I comment as they finally release my brother.
Mom spins on her heels and makes her way back to the dining table. “All right. Sit down and I’ll get breakfast ready.”
“And…” Milo drawls, his eyebrows lifting over his glasses.
Dad chuckles to himself. “Just sit at the table, boys.”
Milo and I share a glance and then follow our parents to the dining table. This is our sixteenth year of this. We know getting impatient leads to a present delay.
Neither of us wants that.
I pull out a chair and Milo moves around to sit across from me.
“Aww, why don’t you sit next to your brother?” Mom says to Milo. “It’s your birthday. It’d be cute.”
Milo frowns. “But it’s my birthday. I don’t want to sit within punching distance.”
Mom huffs. “He won’t punch you on your birthday. Kai, don’t punch your brother on your birthday.”
I raise my hands. “I haven’t even made a fist today.”
Milo sits on the seat opposite me, still wary. Geez, did hugging him earlier totally rattle him?
“Keep it that way,” Mom says, moving into the kitchen. “Pancakes, boys?”
“Sure,” we both respond, keeping watch for any presents that might magically appear.
“I’ll give you a hand, hon,” Dad says, moving into the kitchen.
“This is weird without Grandma and Grandpa here,” Milo comments.
I nod at him, thinking about the possibility of them bringing a new drone with them. “Yeah, it is.”
“Doesn’t feel like our birthday without them.”
“Naw. When they get here this week, it’ll be our second birthday. It’s better they’re getting here late.”
Milo shrugs. “If you say so.”
Mom and Dad come back in, cradling several wrapped presents.
“Whoa,” I say as they plant the gifts on the table.
“You didn’t think we’d forgotten, did you?” Dad jokes.
I can’t help scanning the pile, wondering if there’s a set of keys there, or if this is a decoy.
Mom and Dad make us open gifts in some kind of strategic order. I guess they’re going up in price. We open clothes, headphones, baseball caps, sneakers, and vouchers for the multiplex.
When the pile shrinks, and Dad disappears back into the kitchen, my gut twists. This has to be it. This has to be when bring out the big gifts.
Milo is given a big box, and he’s more animated than I’ve ever seen him when he tears at the wrapping paper.
No surprise, he gets his microscope.
Thank goodness. I can only imagine the moping if he didn’t get it.