Birthday Girl(121)

I nod gently and lead the way back inside and into the kitchen. The air conditioning hits me, cooling the sweat on my back, and my nerves make it hard to breathe, but I’m not as nervous as I thought I’d be when this moment came. He’s not yelling yet, so that’s a good sign.

I pop the tops of two Coronas, the late afternoon sunlight vanishing from the kitchen table as it dips behind some clouds.

He takes a seat, and I do the same. When he remains quiet, though, I realize the ball’s in my court.

“So, are you happy?” I ask him. “In the military?”

I’ve had time to get used to the idea, especially after getting assurances from his recruiter, but I need to hear it from him.

“Yeah.” He sets his beer on the table, keeping his fist wrapped around it. “I don’t know—I guess it’s what I needed. To be torn down and rebuilt better.”

I wait for him to go on.

“I can’t sleep in,” he says, “I can’t show up drunk, I can’t call in sick because I’m feeling lazy that day…. It sucks, but I’ve also got a job and money in the bank. A career. That feels pretty good.” He finally raises his eyes to me. “I’ve got a future, and for someone who never knew where the fuck their place was in the world, it’s kind of nice to let the military decide for you and give you direction.”

“You sure?” I lift the bottle, taking a drink.

I love that he’s doing something with himself, but I also want to make sure he’s carving his own path.

He goes on. “That’s where Jordan and I never made sense. She knew her own mind, and I resented myself when I was with her, because I never did.” He releases a sigh. “I wasn’t her equal, never good enough for her. I would never be that strong-minded. Some of us just aren’t.”

My heart skips a beat at the sound of her name again, but I ignore it. I’m not confident that joining the military was really what he wanted to do with his life, but I am sure he wasn’t finding answers in this town. At least he knew that much.

He was strong-minded enough to take that leap.

“You did this, didn’t you?” I ask. “You made it through training. I’m proud of you.”

I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down, and the muscles in his jaw flex. He takes another drink, still not looking at me.

“So, where is she?” he asks, casting looks behind him to the living room like she’s still in the house.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “She left after you did. I haven’t seen her in two months.”

His gaze snaps to mine, his brows furrowing in concern.

“I’ve talked to her sister,” I assure him. “She’s fine. Wherever she is.”

He seems to accept that answer, because he takes another swig. But now I’m a little more unnerved than I was a moment ago. It’s clear she hasn’t kept in touch with Cole, either. Not that I thought they would stay in contact after everything, but they were friends. Lifelines to each other at one point. The more ties she cuts, the less reasons she’ll have to come back.

“You seeing anyone else?” he asks.

“Nah, not right now.” I take another drink. “Just concentrating on the house and the business.”

“Yeah, I ran into Dutch on my way into town, and he told me you guys are like two years ahead of schedule.”

I chuckle. “Not that much…”

Although, we’re doing damn well. You can get a lot of work done when you’re not racing home every day to a woman who sets your body on fire.

“So, did she break it off with you or you with her?” Cole asks, bringing up Jordan again.

I stare at him. I don’t want to talk about this. I just want him to be okay. I want him to talk about anything else with me.

But mostly, because I’m not proud of my answer. If Jordan hadn’t left, I would’ve kept her as long as she was willing to stay. I should’ve given her up for him, and I didn’t. And I’m not sure I would’ve if she had left the choice up to me.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him instead. “You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

His eyes are locked on mine, a flood of emotions I’m not sure I want to face crossing his gaze. Pain, disappointment, confusion, loneliness…. But also calmness, resolution, and acceptance.

“When I saw you at graduation yesterday, I wanted to still be mad at you,” he says. “And I was aggravated that I wasn’t.”

He drops his eyes, the wheels turning in his head.

“There’s something to be said about time and distance, I guess.” He gives a sad smile. “You get a lot of perspective. A lot of time to think about things.”

Yeah.

“When I was six,” he goes on, “you lost a contract because you came to my Little League game that day instead. On my tenth birthday, you moved my party and paid for everyone to go to the go-cart place, because Mom and one of her boyfriends started fighting at the house and embarrassing the hell out of me in front of everyone. When I graduated high school, you took out a second mortgage to pay for my college which I just pissed down the drain.”

My throat swells. He remembers all that?

“Doing what you could to make me happy, no matter the sacrifice, never seemed like a tough decision for you.” He peers over at me, his voice thick with emotion. “So, I think, doing something you knew could hurt me, was definitely not an easy choice,” he says. “I know you love me.”