Page 74 of The Best Kind of Forever
Being with Hayes has made me realize that I’m a lot more than my trauma. The trauma from Roden, the trauma from Wilder, the trauma from my father. While it’s good for me to acknowledge and accept what’s happened to me, I’m not the sum of my hardships. I’m more than that.
“I hope my brother can try to move on…to accept what’s happened,” Faye stammers, and before she can say anything else, I hug her, the rapid beat of her heart in close competition with mine.
“He will. I know he will.”
I have no doubt in my mind that Hayes will find peace one day. I mean, if I believe I can (and that’s saying a lot), then I know he can. And now he has his father on his side to anchor him if he needs it.
By the time the cake has been devoured and all the alcohol is gone, we’re onto presents. Bristol’s been chatting with Lila the entire night—no surprise there—and Casen and Josie have been unable to take their eyes off each other.
Gage lugs a large, rectangular-shaped box and places it in front of Hayes. I almost don’t want to know what it is.
Hayes wastes no time in unveiling the atrocity in front of him, and I can say for certain that everyone is confused when a fully furnished fish tank is revealed. A fake seaweed plant resides next to a large cave sculpture, and a miniature treasure chest bubbles in the corner, surrounded by bunch of colorful aquarium rocks.
Hayes’ eyebrows tug together in confusion. “G, did you get me a fish?”
Gage scoops up a dollop of chocolate frosting from his plate, sticking it in his mouth. “Yep. It’s a Peruvian Blue Fin. They’re really skittish. He’s been hiding in that cave ever since I picked him up from the pet store.”
“Okay, let me rephrase: why did you get me a fish?” Hayes is trying to peek into the cave, but he’s having trouble finding the right angle.
From where I’m sitting, all I can see is a dark blob.
“You just seemed kind of stressed lately. And animals help with stress,” Gage states matter-of-factly.
Casen cackles. “I think they mean more like dogs or cats.”
“Not true. According to a lot of scientific articles, observing fish can actually improve mood and anxiety,” Bristol interrupts, amassing some bewildered stares from the group.
“What? I read.”
Gage’s lips twitch into a shit-eating grin. “See? It’s a good investment, trust me. They’re very low maintenance. You’ll barely even know the little dude is there.”
“Uh, thanks,” Hayes says, still analyzing the tank with a squint of his eyes.
“Did you really get him a Peruvian Blue Fin?” I whisper to Gage.
Gage’s chest flutters with a chuckle, and he shakes his head. “God, no. Those things don’t exist. Hayes is going to be feeding absolutely nothing for weeks before he catches on.”
Hayes moves on to a box with anFscribbled on striped wrapping paper. The handwriting is too legible to be Fulton’s.
“Faye, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he says, his gaze softening in tandem with his voice.
“I mean, it’s nothing too fancy. You’re also impossible to shop for,” she says, shrugging. “It was the least I could do for my favorite brother.”
“Youronlybrother.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what I said.”
He removes the wrapping paper in one fluid motion, revealing a green, velvet box. He cracks it open to find a gold, diamond-encrusted watch perched between two soft cushions.
Hayes brushes his finger over the crystal of the watch. “Faye, I love it. But you didn’t have to get me something so expensive.”
Faye waves him off with a dismissive flap of her hand. “I’ll probably be living off ramen and Capri Suns for the next month, but it was worth it.”
After Hayes gets through the rest of his gifts, ranging from video games to new clothes, I’m the last person to give him his present. I hand him a package wrapped in shiny paper. He told me I didn’t need to get him anything—you know, the usual boyfriend speech—but I was determined to find him something.
He unveils a simple, black frame with a photo of us. It’s a picture of us dancing the night of our first date. When I was scrolling on Instagram, the photo popped up on my feed, and it looked too professional to be taken by some regular ol’ paparazzi. When I clicked on the linked account, it belonged to a photographer. I messaged him and asked if he could send me a copy. Apparently, he’s a local who spends his free time hunting out potential once-in-a-lifetime experiences to memorialize. He told me that he’s never captured a man so obviously in love before, and I didn’t have the heart to correct him.
“I thought you might like it,” I say, a blush brewing underneath my skin.
