Page 20 of Unruly

About an hour or so later, Grandpa Ben comes in. He was surprised, and the party started, now that everyone’s here. At some point, his eyes find mine across the barn as he talks to the Dawson family. He grins and points at me. I point back.

That’s our thing. It has been since I was old enough to understand we shared a day.

Every year, across whatever room we’re in.

There you are. There you are back.

He makes his way through the crowd, stopping for every hug, every hand on a shoulder, taking his time with each person like the line behind them doesn’t exist. I hang back. He’ll get to me.

I watch him reach Halle before he gets to me.

She’s got her arms around him and he holds on a beat longer than a standard hug and says something in her ear. Whatever it is makes her laugh, her head nodding slightly, something in her shoulders that had been tight since she walked in, releasing.

I want to know what he said.

He always knows the exact right thing. Has this specific gift for finding the thing a person needs to hear and delivering it so quietly it almost feels like it came from inside themselves.

When he finally gets to me, he grabs the back of my neck, our foreheads almost touching.

“Happy birthday, boy.”

“Happy birthday, old man.”

He laughs. “Seventy-five.”

“How’s it feel?”

“Same as seventy-four,” he says. “Maybe a little better.” His eyes move over my face. “You good, Cash?”

“Always,” I say.

He goes to say something else, then someone pulls him away, and the crowd closes back around him.

Colt appears at my elbow out of nowhere.

“I think you wanna dance,” he says. “Liven this place up.”

I look at him. “Mom and Aria are about to bring more food out. I don’t want to dance. What’s your deal?”

He cuts his eyes toward Halle. His voice drops. “She needs a break from the questions. Please. Dance with my sister, dude.”

I look back at her, and watch her nod at something her dad said with that smile that has nothing behind it. She’s clearly unhappy with whatever he’s talking to her about.

Mine.

The thought hits hard and low. She’s been mine in my head for months. But tonight, I finally get to put my hands on her with permission.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m on it.”

I grab the phone off the speaker dock and the mic off the table.

“Hey, everyone.” My voice comes out through the barn and half the room turns. “What are we doing here? This won’t fucking do, not on my birthday. Grab a drink and let’s dance.”

The room cracks up, and Mom’s voice rises over the laughter. “Benjamin Cash, you watch that mouth of yours.”

I drop the mic, grab a fresh beer, and cross the floor.

Halle’s dad, Jack, has turned toward the commotion, and her stepmom is already being swept toward the dancing by someone. Halle is standing in the space they left, slightly alone, and I walk up to her, holding out my hand.