Instead, I’m staring at his mouth and wishing we were two different people, so I could lean forward and press a kiss to his lips and tell him how much I appreciate him. It’s just a question, one that should easily be answered. But when’s the last time someone asked me whatIwanted? Not because it was a nice thing to do, but because they genuinely wanted to know if I needed something else or something different. It’s not a big deal. It’snot.
The way Hunter is staring at me, wondering if I’m okay with the choices for breakfast for a trip I wasn’t even invited to, makes me feel something I can’t put a name to.
“No—” I clear my throat, refusing to choke up over a dumb question. “That’s fine with me.” He smiles at me, a bright, wide smile. He pushes himself up, and the blankets pool around his waist.
“I’ll go outside and help Dad. Do you mind waking Danielle up? I’d hate for her to miss out on my dad’s breakfast. He’s a good cook.” Standing, he stretches his arms above his head and shows off a little strip of skin above the waistband of his pajama pants.
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that.” I follow suit.
“Your dad is an amazing cook. I’m lucky that I don’t have to cook anymore, thanks to him.” His mom bumps his hip with hers, and Hunter rolls his eyes good-naturedly. I feel like I’m intruding on a moment between mother and son. His mom glances at me around Hunter’s back.
“I just say that so I don’t have to cook. I hate it.” She winks at me, and happiness floods my veins at being included in the joke.
“Whatever, Mom. Dad never made you cook; he was always scared you were going to burn our house down.” She gasps in outrage, and I can barely hear the argument as they walk outside. I go down the hallway to the room Danielle slept in last night. Hunter’s room. The room where Hunter has spent his life.
“Wake up,” I say, grabbing the pillow from under her head.
“Dick,” she mumbles, pushing her face into the bed.
“I do have one of those,” I remark.
“Go away,” she whines.
“Breakfast is going to be ready soon. I was sent to fetch you so you wouldn’t miss out.”
Her eyes peek open, and I know it’ll be a matter of minutes until she’s fully awake.
“Fine, fine. I’m up.”
Walking back through the hallway, I look at the photos on the wall. The ones I didn’t get a chance to see. In every one, Hunter has the same bright smile, but with an undertone of sadness. How can such a sad boy play happy so well? Would I even know if I didn’t carry the same sadness deep inside of me?
Hunter and his parents are setting the table when Danielle and I make it into the kitchen.
Cute lemon decorations take over the space. Lemon cookie containers, dish towels, even the plates they’re putting food on.
When we’re all seated, with me right beside Hunter, we dig into our food.
The only sounds are our forks scraping the plates and people chewing. It would normally piss me off, but today it feels right.
“What do you have planned today?” Hunter’s dad asks, and Hunter shrugs, stuffing a forkful of chocolate chip pancakes into his mouth, leaving a smear of chocolate at the corner of his mouth. I have the urge to wipe it away, but I don’t think this is the time or the place.
“Not sure yet, I figured we could hang out here for a little bit and decide something later.”
“Be home by six, we have a dinner reservation at The Spot,” his mom says, and Hunter groans.
“Mommm, no. What did I say?”
“I’m sorry, but I already made the reservation. And they know it’s your birthday, so there’s no getting out of the serenade.” I choke on my pancake becausebirthday.
“It’s your birthday?” Is that my voice? That can’t be my voice. But as I look around the table, Danielle doesn’t show the same surprise I feel. I guess it was just me who was left out of the loop.
Hunter’s face flushes red, and he waves his fork around in a circle. “It’s not a big deal, we never really celebrate anyway…” He trails off, a sad look flashing across his face, then he shakes it off.
That will justnotfucking do. I’m going to make sure this is the best birthday he’s ever had.
17
HUNTER
