My favorite version of him—the realest one.
“Happy birthday, Satan,” I whispered, my head resting on his chest. I wasn’t even sure he heard me. The words were so quiet as they rolled off my tongue.
He pulled me in closer, kissed the top of my head, and then rested his chin there. “Thank you, Chick,” he said softly, his words cracking as if they were hard to get out.
“Always,” I replied.
I think I meant that.
I think I meant always.
22Landon
It had been three hundred and sixty-five days.
The Earth had orbited the Sun over the past three hundred and sixty-five days.
The moon had risen over each of those three hundred and sixty-five days.
People had laughed, cried, and celebrated all sorts of occasions.
And Lance had missed all of it.
He’d missed the sunrises, the sunsets, the thunderstorms, and the clear days.
He’d missed my birthday.
My birthday.
I was eighteen years old.
Young and stupid but feeling old as shit.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept longer than thirty minutes—except for when Shay forced me to sleep. The past week had been a struggle, seeing as how she didn’t have her cell phone to call me late at night.
My head hurt from the lack of sleep, and no matter what I did, the circles under my eyes were still there, heavy and deep.
The hug Shay gave me in the cafeteria was more needed than she knew. I was standing in the cafeteria while my mind was shouting at me, and I couldn’t move. Then along came Shay with her embrace. Maybe she knew, though. Maybe she hadbecome such a professional at reading me that whenever I was about to break, she knew to be there for me.
* * *
After the school day, Greyson, Hank, and Raine tried to talk me into hanging out at Hank’s house to celebrate my birthday, but I lied and told them I had plans with my dad. I didn’t feel like being surrounded by people that night. My mind was too loud, and I didn’t want to be the dramatic buzzkill for my friends.
I tried my best not to think about the fact that my parents weren’t there. Mom called first thing in the morning, which was late evening in Paris. Then she called again and again.
“I love you and I love you,”she’d repeated each time.“I’m so sorry, honey, I promise I’ll explain soon. Happy birthday. Please call me. Please text. Please. OK, I love you, Landon. I’ll be home soon. I love you.”
I didn’t answer her calls, didn’t feel like hearing her excuses for why she wasn’t around, but I sent her a text, because fuck me, I was pathetic and didn’t want her to worry too much about me that day.
Me:I’m OK. Hope you’re OK, too.
I would have bet that text made her cry. Mom was always so easy to cry.
Dad hadn’t called at all. He didn’t even have to wish me a “happy” birthday, because it was hard to be happy on a day like today, but a simple birthday greeting would’ve meant something to me.
I went home, hung with Ham, and played video games as long as I could. When my doorbell rang around six, I grumbled as I went to answer it. I was 100percent certain it was Monica coming to cuss me out for some unknown reason, but to my surprise, there stood Shay with a big box in her hands.
“Hey you.” She smiled wide, and I was falling.