Page 185

Dad laughs in the background. “Smart girl.”

“Speaking of Hayes.” My mom’s voice lowers and switches the phone off speaker, “Declan called and said you were wearing Bishop's number tonight?”

That little snitch.

“Yeah, Bishop gave me a jersey for my birthday so I would have something Phoenixes from this decade to wear to the games, when I can make it.”

“Hmmm.”

“What is it, Mom?” Because I know a mother’s hmmm is never just a sound, it’s a whole dang paragraph.

“Well, it’s just… are you sure that's all, Laney?”

“I’m not sure what you are getting at, but over half the people in the arena were wearing someone’s jersey. Would it be better if it was another player? For that matter, you have a Bishop jersey, Mom.”

She laughs. “That’s different. I’m family.”

“And I’m not?” It’s hard to hide the hurt in my voice.

Her heavy sigh fills the line. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… I know how you feel– felt about him. And I don’t want to see you hurt, that’s all Laney bug.”

“You mean you don’t want to see him reject me and break my heart all over again? I guess I’m not as good at keeping secrets as I thought.” I go quiet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you on your birthday. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. I don’t want to see anyone hurt. Not you. Not Hayes. And not Declan.”

Happy freaking birthday to me.

“I appreciate your concern, Mom. But it’s just a jersey.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.

“Okay, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After we hang up, I scroll through the messages I didn’t get a chance to answer earlier in hopes it’ll cheer me up from the call with my mom. She’s not wrong, but I can worry about that tomorrow. Today belongs to me.

So many Happy Birthday texts and a missed call from Beckett.

Since he already called to wish me a happy birthday this morning and emailed me gift cards to buy enough books and coffee to last until Christmas, I’m sure this call was to inquire about my wardrobe choice for the game.

Sorry, big brother. I’ll call back tomorrow.

Angela, Liz, and even Steve, whose birthday message contains the phrase statistically significant for reasons I don’t understand, sent birthday greetings even though they wished me a happy day in person with lunch at Midnight Press and a lovely book journaling set.

I lost count of how many texts Avery and I sent back and forth at the game. Her and her sister Ivy were both there tonight. Unfortunately, our seats weren’t close to each other but we got a selfie before the game. I filled her in on my little Halloween after party… well most of it anyway.

A new text pops up.

Callie: Happy birthday, Laney! Twenty-three looks good on you. (So does twenty-two ;) Tell your mother I’m still offended she won’t give me that chocolate cake recipe.

I smile. Did everyone see the jersey?

Callie and Declan haven’t been together since college, but somehow she never entirely disappeared from my life. They broke up. I didn’t.

Not intentionally, anyway.

A birthday message became a Christmas message, which became the occasional book recommendation or reply to an Instagram story. We don’t talk constantly, but I’ve always liked her. Probably more than my brother appreciates.

Me: She says it’s a family secret.