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It’s taken me three full days to settle down, trying to dispel the anxious feeling that I should be doing something or going somewhere.
When my birthday rolls around on Friday, I’m prepared to party down with my teammates. It will be good to cut loose and not have to worry about the consequences of a hangover tomorrow.
To my relief, when I walk into Stevie’s bar there are no balloons or streamers, but then I notice a huge banner at the back extended from one corner to another over the jukebox. It readsHappy 26th Birthday, Camden.
I suppose that’s not so bad.
Stevie’s the first person I run into and she hugs me.
“I’m guessing I have you to thank for the banner,” I mutter.
“Yup,” she replies with a mugging grin as she pulls back. “Bain said you didn’t want any decorations, but this is my bar, so my rules.”
I incline my head. “Well, thank you for not doing balloons.”
She winks at me. “Those might still be coming.”
I make my way through the crowd—a mix of Stevie’s regulars, mostly bikers and my Titans peeps—receiving back slaps from the guys and hugs from the women. I’m not surprised to see most of the team here, some with their wives or dates. Even the coaches are here, and that touches me they’d come. Of course, having so many days off probably helped since they spend so much time working in our off-hours.
Hendrix materializes before me and his first words are to deny culpability. “Stevie did the banner. I had nothing to do with that.”
Laughing, I shake his hand. “She already copped to it.”
Someone shoves a beer at me and I see Bain. “Drink up, dude. You’ve got probably fifty-plus people here who want to buy you a birthday beer tonight.”
“Thank fuck we don’t have a morning practice,” I mutter, tapping the neck of my bottle against his. “Cheers.”
We both tip our beers back and that first ice-cold slide of fizz down my throat tastes way too good. I’m totally going to be hungover tomorrow.
Walking deeper into the bar, I circulate to thank everyone for coming. I finish my first beer and someone hands me another. I’m standing at a high-top table talking to Coen and Tillie when I notice a smile form on his face at something over my shoulder.
“Look who’s here,” he says, nodding toward the door.
I twist around and see Danica coming in. Her long brown hair hangs over her shoulders and she tucks it behind an ear as she glances around nervously. Most of the bikers are sitting at the bar right near the entrance and I can read it on her face… she thinks she might have walked into the wrong establishment.
I weave through the patrons and when she finally sees me, it’s relief in her smile.
“You made it,” I say in greeting.
She moves to take off her coat and I help her shrug out of it. “Well, it’s not every day you turn… wait… how old are you?”
I fold her jacket over my arm, intent to put it at one of the tables with some of the other women’s stuff. “Twenty-six.”
“A young pup,” she teases.
I’m not sure exactly how old Danica is but I know she had Travis young… maybe in her freshman year of college. She can’t be but twenty-seven, twenty-eight years old, but I’m not going to ask. It’s irrelevant.
“I’m really glad you came. Come on… let’s hook you up with a drink.”
I take Danica back to where most of the Titans are hanging, the farthest recess of the bar but on the opposite side of the jukebox so it’s not as loud. There are several round tables with chairs plus some standing high tops. To the left are three pool tables and beyond that, a few digital dartboards.
There are hugs from those who Danica knows well… Stone, Harlow, Coen, Tillie and Hendrix. I introduce her to Stevie who she hasn’t met yet and they start gabbing.
Coach West and Ava aren’t here, but I knew they were taking a quick trip to Charlotte to meet with her boss whose company is based there. Brienne and Drake aren’t here either, but Drake’s sister Kiera is. She’s become part of our regular crowd and fits in well. Drake likes to grumble and warn all the single players away from her but you’d find every one of us fiercely protective of her. She’s family.
For the next hour, I spend most of the time making the rounds among my friends. I willingly accept birthday beers and play a few games of pool with Bain. I watch as a fight breaks out between two bikers near the front of the bar and smile when it’s Stevie who wades into the brawl to break it up while Hendrix watches with an uneasy expression. Stevie’s a tough chick and she’s not afraid to keep the peace. Still, it’s a hard pill for Hendrix to swallow since his instinct is to jump in and handle it. I saw this firsthand on a prior visit here.
As time moves on, I notice that no matter where I am and what I’m doing, I’ve got an eye out for Danica. While she knows a handful of people here, she’s meeting most of the new players for the first time. I stand at the ready to swoop in if she’s left alone or looks uncomfortable, but on the contrary, she seems to be having a great time. She wears that natural smile I’ve come to appreciate over the last three weeks since we reconnected, and part of me wants it focused my way.
