“I absolutely can,” Coop shot back, firing again. “It’s literally the law.” Well, for us anyway. The birthday boy got what the birthday boy wanted.
Archie didn’t move much—he never did during Nerf wars—but he handed Bubba fresh ammo with quiet efficiency, like an arms dealer with standards.
I stood there for a second longer than necessary, watching them, the noise and movement and familiar insults washing over me. They were shooting around me, and I could have jumped in. They would not have minded. Still, as long as I didn’t touch a Nerf gun, they made doubly sure to never let the darts hit me. Seriously, the darts didn’t hurt, but it really was the thought that counted.
Well, that and then they would make me base. If they ducked behind me, they weresafe. Something Archie didn’t so much do as he strolled over to stand at my shoulder, but his proximity worked the same.
I grinned at him and he winked. The ease, the laughter—this. This was what I had been missing so damn much. This connection with all of them as the guys howled, laughed, and leapt the furniture. When Coop and Bubba tackled Jake to the floor, we were all laughing.
Eventually, Jeremy’s voice cut through the madness with impeccable timing. “Gentlemen. If you’re finished reenacting a small war—there is food.”
That ended it.
We migrated toward the kitchen first and then up to the game room in a loose cluster, Coop still grinning, Jake rubbing his arm where a dart had hit him point-blank, Bubba already talking about how starving he was like he hadn’t eaten since the dawn of time.
Considering my own stomach grumbled noisily, I wasn’t going to complain. Food appeared like magic—pizza boxes, wings, fries, and an absurdly specific cake that Jeremy pulled off without a lot of advance planning.
A sigh of gratitude escaped me, because Jeremy really was a magical human. Coop’s expression when he saw the chocolate cake, no fondant and minimal decorations, made even those few minutes of discomfort at the mall totally worth it.
Coop like chocolate. He liked cake. He did not like sickeningly sweet frosting. In fact, he used to scrape it off so I could eat it on the cupcakes when we were little. Still, when it came to his cakes, less was definitely more. The pair of candles—one and eight marking his eighteenth said a lot with that little.
Coop stopped short when he saw it.
“Oh,” he said, quietly.
Archie leaned against the counter, watching him. “Jeremy has excellent intel.”
They all looked at me and I shrugged. “I do know a few things.”
Coop’s smile softened and the warmth of it wrapped me up into a hug. “You know me too well.”
“Sometimes,” I admitted. Sometimes I did and I really loved it when I did. Between us, we escaped with the trays of food and insisted to Jeremy that we could handle it. Once up in Archie’s game room, we sprawled across the couches and chairs.
Plates balanced on knees and babbling on a multitude of subjects even as our conversations bounced from group to one on one to back to the group, we ate with gusto and washed down the food with drinks. The cake waited downstairs for us to finish with the rest.
Bubba told a story from their last game that kept getting derailed by Jake correcting details that didn’t matter. Archie listened more than he spoke, but when he did, it landed—dry humor, perfectly timed. At some point, Coop ended up sitting beside me, our shoulders touching, not even a question. He passed me fries without looking. I stole a wing off his plate and dared him to say something.
He didn’t.
Games followed—video games first, then something louder and more ridiculous that involved yelling and accusing each other of cheating. Jake absolutely cheated. Bubba absolutely lied about it. Archie pretended he wasn’t competitive and then annihilated everyone in the final round.
“Who even are you?” Jake demanded.
Archie smiled mildly. “Someone who reads instructions.”
“That’s offensive,” Bubba said.
I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
Somewhere between the third round and the fourth, I realized my shoulders had dropped. The constant tension I’d been carrying—through hallways, through conversations, through sleep—had eased.
I wasn’t bracing anymore.
I was just… here.
When Jeremy finally delivered the cake, I was so full my stomach actually hurt. But I could make room for cake. There was always room for cake.
Jeremy lit the pair of candles, their flames steady and patient, and Coop hesitated as all of us launched in—off-key, out of sync, and completely unapologetic—into our own version of the birthday song.
