Page 70 of The Big Puck

“Sorry, Happy birthday, Lainey.” I take off my coat, and she jumps from her chair to take my coat before I can stop her.

“I decorated. I love festive birthday celebrations, and I want to celebrate this year, the year of my new chapter, in a big way.”

I hand her the gift. “For you. Something small. To show my appreciation.”

“Oh, Spence! I never dreamed you’d buy me a gift.” She hugs me, plastering herself against me in the least professional way I can imagine. My arms go around her in return, regardless of whatever good intentions I had. But only for one beat of my frantic heart. I separate, take my seat next to Krissy, and give her a kiss. “The cake looks and smells delicious.”

“Thank you. I baked it myself.” She sits and starts lighting the candles, but I snatch the lighter from her.

“Don’t. Let me. It’s bad enough you had to bake your own birthday cake.”

“That’s what I told her,” Aunt Hildie says, “but she refused to allow me to call a bakery, and the place does smell heavenly.” She smiles so fondly at Lainey I’d swear the old woman was her aunt rather than mine. I wait for the muscles between my shoulders to seize up with discomfort, but it doesn’t happen.

I’m getting used to Lainey infiltrating my family, so much so that my body has accepted it and stopped protesting. Maybe the rest of me ought to give in. It would be so easy.

Gavonza comes to mind. Her kissing Sabian Dumas follows behind. I shake my head and finish lighting the candles. Twenty-three of them.

“I thought you were already twenty-three?”

“Let’s sing happy birthday and have cake. Then I’ll open gifts,” she says, ignoring my question. We sing—I let my Aunt, who has an angelic voice, take the lead. Krissy babbles. Lainey makes a big show of blowing out the candles for Krissy’s benefit, and I hold her in my lap while we eat cake.

“Delicious.” Aunt Hildie kisses her fingertips.

“She’s not wrong,” I say. “Krissy agrees, too.” Her face is covered in chocolate. Lainey laughs and hands me a wet cloth. I wipe her hands and give her a bottle.

“Time to open my gifts.” She makes a big production of opening Aunt Hildie’s gift, an adorable yellow polka dot apron with ruffles around the edges and big pockets.

“I love it, Aunt Hildie. I’m going to put it on right now.” She stands and puts it over her mint green and gray Whalers T-shirt. She’s taken to wearing team gear every day when she’s at home. I miss her sundresses when the weather was warmer, but I’ll never admit that out loud.

“Now, Spence’s gift. I can’t wait to see what it is.” She looks like she’s still a teenager, still young and eager and happy, as if life is simple, as if she has no baggage. I know that’s not possible. I know she has a past—Moe’s visit ensured I knew all about him. Worse, I know she lost her mother at a young age. It was in Jason’s bio. And yet, she shows no signs of the trauma that such life events would cause. It’s as if she’s somehow processed it all and put it behind her. I’ve heard tell of such miraculous cures, but I’ve never seen it, never known anyone who didn’t carry their baggage around to some extent.

Except Lainey.

She rips open the paper and opens the box. Her hands fly to her face. “This is beautiful, Spence. I love it.” She leaps from her chair, tears glittering in those ocean-blue eyes, and hugs me. Then she kisses my cheek and whispers, “It’s perfect. I only wish I had a portrait of you, too.”

“Let me see, dear.” Aunt Hildie reaches for the box, and Lainey lets me go.

“I had an artist paint it from one of the cell phone pictures.” It was my favorite—not the one showing Lainey’s cleavage. Okay, maybe my second favorite, where she’s holding Krissy on her lap and they’re dressed up in matching pink dresses.

“It’s just perfect, Spencer. So precious. It’ll fit perfectly on your nightstand, Lainey.”

“You’re right.” She dabs the corner of her eyes with her napkin. “I’m sorry—I’m so touched. It was so thoughtful. You must’ve planned this.”

“Truthfully, it only took a week for him to do it. He’s an old high school friend, and he rushed it for me. I didn’t know today was your birthday until Aunt Hildie informed me.”

She reaches out and touches my arm. “Like I said, I appreciate your thoughtfulness and how well you know me because it’s the perfect gift.”

I look away. I do know her well, and I am thoughtful if you count all the thoughts I have about her late at night and in my dreams. Fuck.

“The team is doing well, I hear,” Aunt Hildie says. I could hug her.

“We are. I made a line change in the last game that worked really well. That kid Chase is coming along.”

“I noticed that,” Lainey says. “But what about your goalie, Windy? He seemed a little off toward the end of the last game.”

“You noticed that? What did you see?”

“He wasn’t making it to the edge of the net when they were in the corners. It’s like he was having trouble concentrating, maybe, losing his focus.” She shrugs. “Maybe I’m wrong. It’s probably nothing.”