Birthday Boy
RILEY
It’s the early hours of the morning.
I wake up to Easton’s arms firmly wrapped around me like he’s keeping me from running, and a small smile slips on my face.
He’s been holding me this way every night since we got back from his first preseason game, and I like it.
I like it a little too much.
The way his arms wrap around me and snuggle me against him. Not just in bed, but whenever he walks through the front door, every time he comes in. Whenever he has to leave for practice or for a game…
It’s been lovely. Life has been really good, and for now, I want to stay here. Revel in all of it.
I try to move to use the bathroom, but he grumbles and tightens his arms. I chuckle lightly.
“Hey… I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be just a minute.”
That seems to work.
I climb out of bed to hear the faint ringing of his phone, but I ignore it and head for the bathroom.
When I return, it’s no longer ringing, but it pings and lights up with a notification.
I pass the nightstand where Easton is asleep face-down with one arm flung across the pillow next to mine. I move closer and glance at the screen to see it’s a text. The preview is bright against the dark room.
Mom:
Happy birthday, honey. Call me when you’re up. — Mom
I stand there in the dark of his bedroom in one of his t-shirts and a pair of socks that also technically belong to him, and I look at the screen for the full ten seconds it takes to fade back to black. My chest shifts with the sudden weight of this realization.
Today.
The birthday is today.
He did not tell me. Of course, he did not tell me. In three weeks of drives and dinners and games, the man has not said I have a birthday coming. He was going to let it pass, fold it into the season.
I climb back into bed.
He reaches for me before I have my legs fully under the blanket. He doesn't open his eyes. His arm comes across my waist and pulls me against him, and he tucks his face into my hair, and he makes a small sleepy sound.
“Took too long in the bathroom.”
I smile.
“I’m here now.”
He hums.
I turn in his arms. His face is inches from mine, his eyes still closed.
I lean in and kiss his lips softly. His eyes slide open for a second, and he kisses me back.
“Happy birthday, Easton.”
Now, they fully open.
“H-how—”
“Your mom. She sent a text. I saw it when I returned from the bathroom.”
He looks at me. A slow, warm, still-half-asleep look. Then he pulls me tighter against his chest and kisses my hair, then my temple, and then my mouth, unhurried and quiet.
“Thank you.”
“Go back to sleep.”
“Stay with me?”
My heart skips, chest tightening.
Stay with him? But with the way his eyes close, I realize he’s talking about staying in bed with him.
“I-I will.”
I do. For a while.
By the time I get up the second time, it is past one, and he's still out cold. Yesterday’s practice drained him, and it’s been that way for days, so I know he’ll be asleep for a while longer.
I ease out from under his arm, put on cotton shorts and a soft sweater from the closet that we now apparently share, and go downstairs.
I make a list.
Groceries. Chicken. Print shop. Frame. Team.
The team line is the one I stare at for a full minute. Then I pick up my phone, and I text Kai.
Me:
Hi Kai. This is Riley. Easton’s birthday is today. Seems he didn’t tell anyone. If you and a few of the guys want to come by later, I’m making dinner. No pressure. Please don't tell him I asked. — R.
The three dots start almost immediately.
Kai:
Riley Brooks. You beautiful legend. We’ll be there. What time. What can I bring?
I laugh out loud in the empty kitchen.
I run the errands in ninety minutes with some cash Easton has insistently left for me over the weeks whenever he’s out for practice, and he thinks I’ll need something.
The print shop takes twenty. The drugstore frame is eight dollars.
The chicken is from the grocery store, the lemons are cheap, and the rosemary is fresh because I splurged.
My grandmother’s recipe. The one meal I can make at any time that reminds me of the warmth of home, and being around the people I love.
The people I love?
No, not that way. Easton deserves this more than any other person I know.
By four, the chicken is in the oven, the potatoes are cut, and the kitchen smells like a home. The framed photograph is face-down on the counter next to the birthday card and the cake I added to the list, last minute.
He comes down at five.
He walks into the kitchen in sweats and a soft gray shirt, looking like he’s just woken from a century’s sleep.
I laugh when I see him. He’s cleaned up, too.
“Riley…”
I cover the distance between us and wrap my arms around him, but he’s not looking at me. His eyes are fixed on the counter. The stove, and what’s cooking.
“Happy birthday, baby.” I kiss his lips.
He doesn’t move at first.
“You cooked?”
“Made my grandmother’s roast chicken. Special recipe for a special occasion.” I wiggle my brows, attempting a joke, but he doesn’t laugh.
Oh.
“You got me a cake…”
“Come, sit…”
I lead him to a stool, and he does.
“Here…” I slide the card his way, and he reads it. When he's done, I slide the frame across the island.
I do it face-down, so he has to turn it over himself.
He turns it over and goes very still.
He looks at it for a long time. His thumb runs across the corner of the frame. His mouth opens once, and he closes it.
“Riley.”
“Yeah… I’m sorry I can’t get you any proper gifts right now. I just… I just wanted to make today special for you, and um…” I run out of words because I can’t fully process how I feel.
He sets it down carefully, like it might tip.
“Come here…”
I’m beside him before he can repeat the words.
He pulls me between his legs, and kisses me slowly. I hold his shoulders and moan into the kiss, unable to hold back. When he breaks it, his eyes stare into mine, with an unreadable expression etched in them.
“Sweetheart, this is the proper gift. Nobody has ever seen me like this and photographed it. And it’s a picture of our private, shared moment. Not me at a game or at a party. Thank you.”
I smile.
“Does that mean I’ve won your heart?” I tease.
A smile breaks out on his face too, and my heart does a little flip.
“Oh, you have no idea, baby.”
The doorbell rings. He stares at it with a frown.
“Oh, umm… I texted Kai. I hope that’s okay. I know you didn’t tell anyone, but I thought it’d be nice to have them here. I mean, everyone you love… I know your mom might not be able to make it today… but—”
“Shhh…” he silences me with another kiss. “I might as well have you tatted on my skin. Now come on, let’s party, huh?” He flashes his brows.
Warmth spreads through me, and I know I made the right decision.
The doorbell rings again. I get it and within a minute, half the team is in the kitchen inside with a case of cheap beer and a grocery-store cake that says Happy Birthday in green icing.
Wyatt slams into Easton with a hug.
“Look who’s turning into a family man? You do birthdays now?”
“If I did, you wouldn’t be invited.”
“Then who invited us?”
Easton wraps his arms around me and lightly pecks my cheek.
Wyatt faces me with his hand on his heart.
“Riley Brooks. Adopted!”
The team cheers. The rest of the evening flies by in a blur.
The guys eat everything I made and half the cake and drink through the case of beer Kai brought.
Wyatt gives a toast that goes on for four minutes and involves the phrase “hockey brother” seven times.
Kai retells the wild-night story he had with Easton, and how they eventually became friends.
Somewhere in the middle of all of it, Theo finds me at the counter.
He's holding a beer he has not drunk. He's in a soft flannel and jeans. Emma is at home with the sitter tonight.
“I have played with him for four years, and he’s managed to hide his birthdays in all of that. He’s just a big private guy, with a playboy reputation.” He laughs, and his gaze travels to where Easton is laughing at something Wyatt is doing with a spoon.
I don’t know what to say.
“You’re good for him, Riley. I don’t think you know how much. But I’ve seen him do a lot of stupid shit, and fumble a lot of things, but you’re one of the best things he’s done for himself.”
He clinks his untouched beer against the water glass I’ve been holding.
“Thank you for doing this for him.”
I return his smile.
Then he moves back toward the group, and I stand at the counter, still speechless, but with a palpitating heart.
Easton finds me minutes later.
“Hey…” He takes my hand and pulls me against him, his back to the team, carefully blocking them from my view. “You good?”
I nod.
“Thank you for today, sweetheart. You’ll probably have my heart until forever now,” he smirks.
But he doesn’t see how his words affect me.
When he says things like that, it becomes increasingly difficult to see the already faint line between what we’ve been doing, and the agreement we had at the start.
This is fake. Or it’s supposed to be right? But why does my heart feel like it’s falling off anytime I think of it not being real?
Lord… not now. Not this way.
Things get complicated when feelings get in the mix.
“Come on… come listen to Wyatt’s recent escapades. The night after we left the bar,” He tugs me along to the living room, and pulls me to sit on his lap, straddling him in front of everyone, while he holds me possessively.
And I feel at home. Like I’m with my family.
“I’m telling you, she was batshit crazy!” Wyatt’s exclamation pulls me back to the present.
I laugh because this is Wyatt for you.
“Damn, she handed your ass to you. I’d love to meet her,” Kai says.
Wyatt shakes his head and drains the rest of his beer. “Fuck no. Never happening. I’m never crossing paths with that woman again.”
“Famous last words,” Kai mutters.
Wyatt flips him off, but there’s a grin tugging at his mouth as he reaches for another beer.
“Actually, I think I might be done with crazy altogether.”
That gets everyone’s attention. Kai’s eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“No, I heard the words. I just don’t believe they came out of Wyatt Larkin’s mouth.”
Wyatt shrugs, suddenly very interested in the label on his bottle. “Maybe it’s time to try something different.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs again, way too casually this time. “Find a nice girl. Someone normal. Sweet. The kind you could actually bring home to your mom without giving her a heads-up first.”
Kai leans forward, grinning. “This hypothetical nice girl have a name?”
Wyatt goes still for half a second before taking a long pull from his beer. “If she did, I sure as hell wouldn’t be telling you guys.”
“Holy shit.” Kai sits up straighter. “There’s a girl.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Who is she?”
“Nobody you need to worry about.”
“Do we know her?”
Wyatt’s smile disappears almost instantly. Interesting.
“Drop it.”
Kai opens his mouth, but one look from Wyatt shuts him up.
Wyatt leans back in his chair, his beer resting against his thigh, and for a second, something almost thoughtful crosses his face. “Let’s just say if I ever decide it’s time to settle down, I already know where I’d start looking.”
The evening goes on, late into the night and by the time the guys are rounding up to leave, one thing is clear to me.
I want people of my own.
Not instead. In addition.
I pick up my phone when Easton steps out to see them off.
I open the messages, scroll past my mother’s last unanswered text, and find the thread that has been dark for three years.
Rachel.
I type.
Me:
Hi, Rachel. I’ve been thinking about you. — Riley.
I look at it for one second.
My finger hovers around the cursor, and I quickly hit send before I overthink it.
I hear the sounds of cars pulling out of the driveway, and my heart warms. The realization hit me all at once.
I’m happy.
I don’t know how long it has been since it happened. How long I’ve been in this bubble, but I love it here.