Battle Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 3)

I look at him. “In what way?”

“If I go by what you’re saying, it’s a blip in your life. Just something you were expecting. If I go by what Birdie said, it’s a huge, monumental time in her life that she’s struggling with. I think she’s feeling quite overwhelmed by it all, Matt.”

I contemplate that. “Birdie experiences her feelings intensely, so yeah, this feels huge to her. I know she’s feeling that, but it’s just the drugs.”

“It doesn’t sound like fun.”

It isn’t, and I’m not the one dealing with the physical ramifications of what we’re doing. Birdie’s only on her ninth day of injections, with more weeks ahead still. I’m hopeful this downregulation part of the journey achieves its goal sooner rather than later so she can move onto the next stage where they’ll stimulate her ovaries to produce the eggs. I am aware, however, that downregulation can take longer for some women, so I’m prepared for that.

Wanting to talk about something other than the thing I spend most of my time talking about these days, I say, “How’d your date go the other night? You gonna see her again?”

Max gives me a knowing look. My brother is, after all, the more emotionally-in-touch one of us. He knows I need a change in subject. “Yeah, I’m gonna see her again. She was fucking amazing.”

He then catches me up on everything happening in his life, from the date to his kids, his job, and his new love of triathlons and all the training he’s doing. The thing that strikes me the most is how much he’s sharing. Over the years he was married to Melissa, he slowly shut down on offering information about his life. Or maybe he simply hadn’t had much to share. Either way, it’s fucking good to see him this damn happy.

“That was the best steak of my life,” Max says later that night as the three of us sit and catch up after we return home from the restaurant he chose for my birthday dinner.

Birdie snuggles against me on the couch, bringing her legs up to rest on mine. “Did you love your steak, too?” she asks me.

Lifting my arm, I put it around her. “I agree with Max; it was the best I’ve ever had. We need to eat there again.”

She smiles up at me. “I’m glad. And yes, we do.”

The thing neither of us voice is that thanks to the cost of IVF, eating at that rest

aurant again isn’t something we’ll be doing any time soon. Our budget is super strict, shutting down any plans we may have had for renovating the house we bought a few months ago, and definitely restricting our option to eat out often. Tonight’s dinner was a birthday present from Max, who paid for our meals.

“What have you got on tomorrow, Birdie?” Max asks.

“I have a few classes to run at work in the morning. After that, I’m all yours.” Her eyes find mine again. “What have you got on?”

“Not a thing. I’m free all day.” Max is here for another day and a half, and unless something urgent comes up, my schedule is free.

“Good,” Max says. “I’ve got a list of things for us to do while I’m here.”

“Ooh, tell me,” Birdie says, her voice laced with excitement. It’s not real excitement, though; it’s forced. Max wouldn’t notice it, but I haven’t missed it each time it happened throughout the day. Something’s not right with her, and I want to get her alone so I can ask what it is.

Max rattles off his list, which includes some sightseeing he wants to do. Birdie forces her excitement again, concerning me, but I don’t voice that. If she’s trying to give Max the impression she’s excited when she’s not, I know she won’t appreciate me saying something in front of him.

After they discuss the list, Max looks at me and says, “I’m gonna hit the hay. I’m exhausted.”

Birdie shifts, allowing me to stand and hug my brother. “Thanks for today.”

Max catches the emotion behind my words and smiles. “Yeah. It’s good to see you guys.”

“Night, Maxxi,” Birdie says, hugging him and using the name he allows only her to call him. “Sleep well.”

Once we’re alone, she places her hand to my chest and says, “Did you have a good birthday?”

“Yeah, but I’m concerned about you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Birdie, don’t bullshit me. Are you not feeling well?”

Clutching my shirt, she presses her body to mine. “I’m fine.” Standing on her toes, she brushes a kiss across my lips. “Take me to bed. I wanna wrap my lips around you.”

“Fine usually means anything but that, angel. Talk to me.”