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“You didn’t have to get me a birthday present. Especially after everything…” I trailed off again, not wanting to purge anymore of my toxic truths. I couldn’t hide behind the fever excuse this time. “It was sweet. I appreciate it.”

“Sweet,” he parroted, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

He said it like the word tasted anything but.

And I supposed I was playing with fire every time I opened my mouth, caught his gaze, or melted against the warmth of his proximity. Part of me just couldn’t step away from the flames.

Reed steepled his fingers at his chin, his green eyes flicking to me and looking a shade lighter in the hazy daylight. A few heavy heartbeats stuttered between us while he stewed over his reply.

I thought maybe he was going to say something that would fan the flames. A response that would keep me warm and hopeful.

He didn’t.

“I got it for a friend.” His jaw ticked through his words. “Turns out, she’s not really into their music. I figured you’d get better use out of it.”

Ouch.

I ground my teeth together as my heart perished, my chest suffocating on the ashes.

Reed looked away, something unsaid flickering in his eyes. Then he stood from the chair and walked inside, backing away from the fire I was so eager to dive into, head first.

It was for the best.

No point in both of us burning.

Family game night.

It was a foreign concept to me, considering the only game I’d ever played with my family was Hide and Seek. I would hide, and my father would seek. When he’d find me, I’d lose.

Game over.

As we waited to pull out Pictionary while Whitney cleaned up the kitchen, Tara roped me into a round of Dream Phone, mostly to laugh our way through the cheesy clues given through a bulky pink phone. I’d never played it before. It seemed like something I would have liked five years ago if I’d had friends, freedom, and the luxury of being a carefree kid.

Instead, I’d been learning how to pick my bedroom door lock before my boobs had even grown in. I’d been educating myself on the best, affordable makeup brands to mask my welts and bruises. When I’d needed a friend to confide in, I’d stare up at my cracked popcorn ceiling and whisper secrets to Nana, imagining her seated among the clouds and stars on her throne of wisdom. She’d always listen. Even in death.

I glanced up at Reed as Tara and I sat on the living room floor, the board game spread out across the wooden coffee table amid half-eaten bowls of ice cream. He was lounging on the couch across from us, his brows pinched together, knees spread while one bounced repetitively. His eyes were pinned to the game like he was trying to understand the point of it.

We hadn’t spoken much since our brief interaction on the deck earlier, and I understood why. What was there to say?

Hi, it’s me, the girl currently living with your ex-girlfriend and teenage daughter—the one who lied about her age in a deceptive ploy to spend more time with you. Let’s be friends.

Stupid.

Lost in my dark thoughts, I dialed in a phone number listed on one of the playing cards.

“You’re right! I really like you,” said a too-eager voice coming from someone named Jason through the speaker. Blinking, I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it, frowning.

“Jason likes me,” I announced.

Tara made a face. “Too bad no one likes Jason. His is an unrequited love.”

Reed leaned forward, eyebrows still wrinkled with a look of concern. He started flipping through the pile of cards, huffing at all the photographs attached. “Dan. Mike. Gary. Zero creativity in these names,” he mumbled, pausing on another card. “Bob? Bob is in his forties. He looks like the stick-in-the-mud chaperone at a junior high dance.”

Tara busted out laughing, ripping the card from her father’s hand. “He’s just mature,” she said. When she pulled out another card, she flipped it around to show her dad. “Thoughts on Matt? I see potential.”

His eyes narrowed. “Matt is a former pastry chef turned balloon artist. After a freak accident involving a giant cream puff, he decided to embrace his new life traveling the country making balloon animals at children’s birthday parties. His wife left him for the cream puff.”

Tara doubled over with laughter before pulling out another card.

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