Birthday Girl

He snorts, his mouth turning up in a grin.

He rises and holds out his hand again, and this time I take it. He pulls me up, and we head for the house, but I notice the candle still burning on the wooden table.

Darting over, I le

an across the table, close my eyes, and blow, the candle extinguishing. Turning back, I follow him up the steps.

“Can I ask you another question?” he prods.

“Shoot.”

“Why do you do that?” He glances back at me.

“What?”

“The closing-your-eyes-to-blow-out-a-candle thing,” he explains. “I’ve seen you do it a few times now.”

I shrug, not realizing he’d noticed. I thought I’d gotten pretty good at doing it quickly and under the radar.

“Just a quirk.” I follow him through the screen door. “Birthday wishes don’t always come true, so I don’t waste a chance when I blow out a candle.”

Jordan

“Hey, can you pick me up at two?” I pin the telephone between my ear and shoulder as I count out my bank and put it in the register. “Ash didn’t come in. Her baby’s sick, and I don’t have another ride.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cole says. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

After our last fight, the aftermath progressed exactly like I predicted. He came home buzzed and relaxed, crawled into bed, and we cuddled it out. Things have almost gotten back to normal—or what our normal is, anyway—enough that I didn’t mind when he tried to pull me into the shower this morning. However, when we got into our bathroom, we discovered his dad had ripped out the sink and had started tearing away the tiles in our shower, our bathroom the next thing on his renovation list. How had we slept through that? And what time did he get up this morning?

“I’ll be done at two,” I state again, closing the register drawer.

“Yep, got it. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” I reply and hang up.

Pike has been working on my car, and in an effort to smooth things over, I’m sure, Cole actually helped today. I’m not sure how I’m going to repay his dad, though, because I know he’s spending money on parts, even though he acts like he got the new exhaust cheap or just had those new tires laying around. I’ve been trying to go above and beyond in the house, doing things like making breakfast for everyone this morning and cleaning out from under the cushions on the couch. I even planted some flowers in the backyard, around the border, to help the aesthetic, which Pike agreed to as long as I don’t bring flowers in the house. I laugh, thinking about how grumpy he can be sometimes. It’s pretty funny.

Hours later, exhausted and my feet aching in my Chucks, I can’t wait to get back to the house, either. Home and in bed. I’m so tired.

Tying my hair up in a ponytail, I count out the bank, put it back in the tray, and slide the tray into the safe. After I cover the liquor bottles, finish the dishes, and turn off the lights, I peer out the window, seeing Cole’s car by the curb. I smile, delighted he’s on time.

I blow the out the remaining candles on the bar, closing my eyes and taking a breath each time. I hope tomorrow is better than today. It’s my go-to wish when I don’t have anything else in mind, and every day that passes, I’m trying to get closer to making it come true.

I grab my book bag, stuffing my tips in the pocket and head out the door, locking it behind me. The fresh air feels good in my lungs, and I toss my bag through the open back window before opening the passenger side door. I slide into the front seat, turning my tired but grateful smile on Cole.

“Hey—” I stop, my smile immediately falling.

Jay, my ex, sits in the driver’s seat. I look over my shoulder, making sure I didn’t miss Cole passed out in the backseat, but it’s empty.

My hands tremble. “Where’s Cole?”

Jay cocks his head, looking apologetic. “He’s wasted, babe. The guys didn’t want to let him drive.” His arm rests over the back of my seat, his hand inches from my hair and neck. “He’s sleeping it off at Bentley’s house. They told him someone would make sure you got home. I volunteered.”

No. Nuh-uh. Not a chance.

I don’t hesitate. Pulling the handle, I swing my door open and jump out, reaching into the backseat and retrieving my bag. “It’s fine,” I tell him. “I can grab a ride from Shel. She’s still inside.”

“No, she’s not. You just locked up.”