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She shakes her head. “Nothing, honey.”

“Mom.”

She sets the foil aside. “Hayes didn't have the easiest childhood. You know that.”

I nod. Of course I know.

Everybody in Evergreen knows pieces of Bishop's story.

His parents.

The accident.

His grandfather.

How he came to live with his grandpa before eventually becoming a permanent fixture in our house.

But knowing the outline of someone's life isn't the same as knowing what it felt like to live it. And Bishop has never been particularly interested in filling in the details.

Mom reaches across the counter and squeezes my hand.

“He's always been grateful for your father and me. But I don't think he ever quite understood that he didn't have to earn a place at our table.”

My throat tightens. “Yeah.”

She lets go and turns back to the cheesecake.

“So take him some dessert.”

I smile. “Okay.”

“And tell him happy birthday from us.”

“I will.”

She pauses.

“Although you could have brought him home with you.”

I laugh softly.

“Believe me, Mom. I tried.”

That's true.

I'd asked Bishop twice.

Once before he left for Denver.

And again when he got back.

Both times, he'd insisted I should go spend time with my parents. Both times, he'd kissed me afterward. And both times, he'd somehow managed to make it sound like he wasn't bothered by the idea of being alone.

Maybe he wasn't.

But I was.

By five fifteen, my suitcase is in the trunk, Darcy is complaining from his carrier in the back seat, and Mom has packed enough leftovers to feed a small army, plus my leftover birthday cake and Bishop’s birthday cheesecake.