I stepped closer, rose onto my toes, and slid a hand around the back of his neck. “You’re going to have to help,” I murmured. “I’m a little short?—”
He cut me off by looping an arm around my waist and lifting me easily, setting me onto the low ledge by the window. We paused there for half a heartbeat, grinning at each other like we were twelve again and everything was simple.
Then I kissed him.
Not careful. Not rushed.
Just honest.
When we pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm, steady.
“Best birthday,” he said quietly.
I smiled. “You deserve it.”
And for the first time in a while, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—we were still allowed moments like this. When he raised his eyebrows at me, I kissed him again.
This kiss lingered longer than I’d meant it to.
Not because I was trying to make a point. Not because I was trying to prove anything. Just because it felt… right. Familiar and new at the same time. Coop’s hand stayed warm and solid at my waist, anchoring me there on the ledge as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go either.
A shiver of awareness slid through me—soft at first, then sharper.
Not from him.
From the room.
The hum of voices had faded. The laughter. The background noise. It was subtle enough that it took me a second to notice what was wrong.
Or rather—what was missing.
I pulled back just enough to register it.
Silence.
Not awkward. Not hostile. Just… very present.
My gaze slid past Coop’s shoulder.
Archie stood near the couch, arms crossed, watching us with an expression I couldn’t quite name—something careful, something restrained, something like he was making a deliberate choice not to move.
Jake was frozen mid-reach for another slice of cake, fork hovering uselessly in the air, eyebrows somewhere near his hairline.
Bubba leaned against the back of a chair, mouth half-open, clearly caught between saying something and deciding better of it.
They were all staring.
Heat climbed up my neck.
I opened my mouth—already bracing to make a joke, to deflect, to smooth it over?—
When Coop beat me to it.
He didn’t turn around. Didn’t loosen his grip.
He just smiled against my mouth and said, perfectly calm,
“It’s my birthday.”
