He didn’t look at me immediately. Just stirred his coffee slowly.
“I didn’t forget,” he said flatly.
“You didn’t show up.”
He finally glanced at me. “Hadley, I had meetings. Studio calls. I came home late.”
“You came home with someone.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not your concern.”
“It is when my foster brother is asking why you ignore him while living in the same house.”
“He’s not my responsibility.”
The bluntness of it hit like cold water.
“I know he’s not,” I said quietly. “And he doesn’t need you to be. But basic decency isn’t fatherhood. It’s just being human.”
He scoffed softly. “You’re making this bigger than it is.”
“He waited,” I said. “He asked if you were coming.”
Cal ran a hand through his hair. Frustration flickering across his face.
“I don’t do birthdays, Hadley. I barely do my own.”
“He’s a kid, Cal.”
“He’s fourteen.”
“He’s still a kid.”
He exhaled sharply. “I didn’t sign up to play house. I’m already dealing with enough.”
The words sliced deeper than he probably realized.
“I’m not asking you to play house,” I said. “I’m asking you not to make him feel invisible.”
Silence hung heavy.
Finally, he muttered, “I’ll… say something to him later.”
I nodded slowly.
“You don’t owe him anything,” I added. “But you don’t get to hurt him just because he exists in your space.”
He didn’t answer.
.....
Sydney showed up that night.
I was washing dishes when she walked in wearing Cal’s hoodie again, bare legs, messy hair like she had just climbed out of his bed.
She saw the foil-covered cake slice on the counter and smirked.
“Aw. The teenager didn’t get a present? That’s rough.”
