Page 27 of Left of Forever

“Does that mean you’re saying yes?” he asks.

“Ellis.”

“I’m kidding.” He laughs, putting his hands up in surrender. “I wouldn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, either.” His eyes link with mine again, and time seems to yawn and settle between us.

“I can’t believe we’re about to watch him graduate high school,” I say in awe.

“I’m so fucking proud of him,” he says with a disbelieving chuckle. There’s something likeHow is this feeling even contained?in his smile.

“I’m proud of us, too,” I say truthfully. “In spite of everything.”

“So am I,” he says, voice hoarse.

After a pause, I try to lighten the mood. “Should we high-five or something?”

“Or something,” he replies, like it actually were a multiple-choice question. He scoops me into a hug before I register that it’s happening, and I melt and press myself into it automatically.

I’m excruciatingly aware of every place his body fits against mine. The way he always smells a bit like smoke and the same soap he’s used since we were younger. Rock-solid thighs beneath his jeans, the firm chest under my cheek that I know is dusted in hair. I arch into the hug, maybe only half an inch… because it feels so damn good and he’s so damn warm anddammit, I’m already grappling with myself. I feel his breath hitch, and mine does, too, but for a different reason entirely. I cannot forget why these hugs lost their power over me or how we fell apart.

We’re not the kids who loved each other as friends or the teenagers who were overwhelmed by want. And we’re not the bright-eyed optimists who thought we were the exception when it came to young love, who thoughtourlove and marriage could conquer all. We’re the war-torn adults who loved each other fully and still didn’t make it together in the end.

I step back out of his embrace and head toward the bakery’s back door.

“I need to get this over there and get changed and all that,” I say, stabbing a thumb at the van. I haul my eyes up to his. “I’ll see you there.”

He nods with a tight smile and walks past me.

“Save me a seat?” I ask quietly. It’s an inside joke, one of thosevery old, tiny traditions made into something bigger over the years, and for a moment, I’m terrified he’s forgotten it.

He stops, but doesn’t turn to look at me. “I’ll save you the best seat in the house, Byrd.”

I wait until he’s gone to head back inside and change. When I finish the rigamarole of closing up the shop, something on the counter catches my eye.

It’s an origami bird, made from one of the flyers for the graduation ceremony, and the recognition sends a clutch of emotion down my throat. Ellis used to leave these in places for me all the time, starting around sixth grade. When we got older and the paper got a bit sturdier, I’d save the more colorful birds he made for me. Even hung some from our porch ceiling outside Sam’s nursery window, back before we learned how hard-water air could ruin precious things.

After I drop off the desserts at the high school gym, I find the Byrds all in the front row of chairs down on the football field, where I also see that Ellis has saved me a seat between him and Sage. I’m happily shocked when I spot Micah in the front row, too, on the other side of Fisher. The youngest Byrd brother and the tallest at a staggering six foot six. Jet-black hair that is currently cut into a real-life mullet. He sits with his elbows braced on his thighs, spitting sunflower seeds into the grass like it’s the middle of the ninth inning. He winces when he pushes up to his feet to give me a hug.

“Ugh, Jesus,Micah,” I say, lip curling. “You smell like a distillery. Did you seriously come to your nephew’s graduation drunk?”

“Unfortunately, no. But I will be remedying that as soon aswe conclude here.” He tries for a weak smile. “I was drunk yesterday in California. Sobered up in time to drive here in the same clothes.”

“He got released from his contract,” says Silas with a grimace. “Did you see his nose ring? Wren, please tell him it looks ridiculous.”

“You’re coming home with me when we’re done, not going out drinking again,” Ellis grouses at the back of Micah’s head.

“But I don’twantto stay with Papa Bear,” Micah whines to me, jutting out a lip. And now I do notice the tiny silver hoop in his nose.

“You won’t fit in my little place.” I laugh. “Sam’s not gone yet.”

“I can’t stay with Sage,” he groans. “She and the boyfriend made me sick over Christmas with all the tongue kissing and hand-feeding each other.” I wouldn’t know. I stayed away at Christmas last year.

“Well, you sure as hell can’t stay with Silas,” says Ellis. And he’s right. Silas and Micah turn into the bash brothers when they’re together and stir up a world of trouble everywhere they go. Best to keep them apart while one of them is in a crisis, let alone both.

“Can’t help you there, bud,” I tell Micah.

“He’s a grumpy fucker without you around, you know,” Micah says to me, low enough that no one else can hear. “I feel like I have to listen to him even though I know, as an adult man, I actually don’t. And he never has any treats in the house.” He’s the only other Byrd sibling with freckles aside from Sage. A spray of them across the bridge of his nose that keeps him perpetually boyish—height, build, and jawline notwithstanding.

“Poor baby.” I pat his cheek. “I’ll send you home with whoopie pies tomorrow if you stop by.”