Page 59 of The Pass Protection
I walk toward the kitchen and hope Bret is waiting for me, but I find it empty when I round the corner. My shoulders deflate a little, but it’s still early, and Bret is never up when we are. Heading back into my room, I get ready for the day.
I’m walking through the nearly empty parking lot after I’ve wrapped up my last class of the day. It’s been a long day, but good. After practice today, the guys all sang Happy Birthday to me. It was a horrible rendition, but all that mattered was the thought.
Tina, the cashier in the cafeteria, heard it was my birthday and gave me a huge cookie for free. And my phone has been blowing up with messages all day. Now I’m just ready to go home, see my girl, and call it a day. We’ll save the partying for the weekend since it’s a Monday night.
Reversing out of my parking spot, a call comes through the radio. I hit the phone button on my steering wheel to answer.
“Happy birthday to my favorite middle child.” Mom’s voice is like a breath of fresh air.
I chuckle as I stop at the light and flick on my signal. “I’m your only middle child.”
“Therefore, my favorite. Have you had a good birthday?”
“It’s been pretty good. It’s Monday, so nothing crazy is going on.” Pushing down on the accelerator, I turn toward the apartment complex.
“I’m glad to hear you’re not having a wild party. You’ve always been my good child.”
“The bar wasn’t too hard to reach.”
Her laugh fills the car. “No, Jett sure gave us a run for our money. Have you heard from him today?”
Leaning my elbow against the windowpane, I rest my head against my fist. “Yeah, he sent me a text. Any idea when he’s coming home?”
“No idea. Hopefully soon.” She pauses, the weight of my brother’s absence weighs heavily on her. “But we’re not going to let that dampen your birthday. I can’t believe it’s been twenty-one years since we brought you home from the hospital. Your dad would be so proud of the man you’ve become.”
A lump in my throat grows. I miss my dad so damn much. His death weighs heavily over the family, but day by day, we’ve learned to move forward. We’ll never forget him, but life doesn’t stop because he’s no longer with us. Birthdays and holidays always seem to hit the hardest.
“Thanks, Mom,” I choke on the words.
“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Easing onto the brakes, I signal as I turn into the apartment complex. I guide the truck along the path to our building. “You didn’t upset me, Mom. It’s just hard not having him here.”
“You know he’s watching over you and has the best seat in the house for yourgames.”
“That he does.” Turning the wheel, I pull into an empty parking space.
“Well, anyway, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday. I love you, sweetheart.”
I smile. “I love you too, Mom. Tell the family I said hello.”
We disconnected the call, and I switched the ignition off. Gripping the handle, I pull it toward me and open the door. Sliding out of my seat, I reach for my bags before shutting the door behind me.
Climbing the stairs, a somber mood tries to pull me under, but I fight to keep the feeling away. Slipping my key into the lock, I twist the knob as the front door opens. I’m met with a pitch-black apartment and complete silence. Apparently, I’m going to spend my birthday alone. Crossing over the threshold, I flick the light switch on.
Shouts of “Surprise!” ring out, and I startle. Clutching my heaving chest, I fight to catch my breath as I bring my soul back to my body.
“Holy fuck!”
Closing the door behind me, I take in the not-empty apartment. Shades of green and blue streamers—my favorite colors—hang from the ceiling as more balloons have invaded our space. Heads of my friends peek out from the kitchen doorway, my bedroom doorway, and the living room. A sign on the entryway table reads “entryfee one shot”with disposable red plastic shot glasses filled with amber liquid. Holes surround some of the glasses where people have taken a shot upon entry.
“Grab a shot!” Bret’s cheerful voice sounds from down the hall. I watch as she bounces toward me as someone switches on the music, and 2 Chainz’s “Birthday Song” starts playing through the speakers.
Reaching for a glass, I hold one out for her as I pick up one for myself. “Only if you do one with me.”
“I’m never going to make it to the Eagle’s Nest,” she mumbles but takes the cup from my hands.
“Wait,” Brynn shouts as she comes rushing toward us. She holds her phone out. “You two get together so we can take a picture of the birthday boy taking his firstlegalshot. We all know Riggs isn’t new to alcohol.”
