Page 43 of The Ones We Fight For

The realization dawned on him not a moment later. “Oh, fuck. It is my birthday.”

“You make that sound like a death sentence.” Talia laughed. “Are you going to eat your cake?”

“My… cake? How did you know I would want this?” Walker gaped at her then looked down at the maple bar as if it had appeared as part of a magic trick.

“Piper.”

“You didn’t get yourself one?” Biting into the donut, Walker closed his eyes in ecstasy. It wasn’t Talia’s lips, but it was a more appropriate thing to be drooling over.

“No, it’s your cake. Today’s not about me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s the point of a cake if you have no one to share it with?” Promptly ripping the bar in half, he passed her a piece. She took it hesitantly, raising it up in front of her face to inspect it. A sexual joke about having her cake and eating it too formulated in Walker’s head. If she ended up eating the donut in slow motion and licking her fingers afterward, he would simply pass away.

And now I know how I want to die.

“I’m kind of a donut snob,” Talia said sheepishly. “New York City has the best donuts, and I don’t want to be disappointed.”

“Just try it, and if you hate it, I’ll eat your half.”

Talia lifted the sweet to her lips and sighed when the sugar touched her tongue.

Holy hell. Happy birthday to me.

“God, this is good!” she finally declared after swallowing her first bite.

“Told you,” Walker licked his own lips and forced a smile on his face. “You deserve it after being the only person on the planet who remembered my birthday.”

When they made their way to the entrance of the coffee shop, Walker trailed behind so he could hide the sadness that was readily visible on his face. All nostalgic things reminded him of his brother. What was first a saccharine surprise to his morning turned sour in his mouth, and he had to force the rest of the donut down to stop himself from vomiting. The last time he had eaten a maple bar was the morning of the day that Cole and Paisley died. He wondered if he would ever be able to experience simple pleasures again without feeling the immediate pang of loss. For now, even maple bars were tainted by memories.

Chapter 15

Talia

As her knuckles hit the smooth wood of Amala’s door, Talia turned the knob without bothering to wait for an answer. Amala was standing in the kitchen with a bag of frosting, frowning at a sheet cake. She gave Talia a nod of acknowledgment at her arrival, but continued to stare down the cake like it had personally offended her in some way.

“Going well, I see?” Talia walked over to her friend expecting to see a frosting disaster, only to find that the cake was entirely blank.

“I’m about to destroy this cake that I spent so much time on with words,” Amala sighed.

“How poetic.” Talia grinned.

“Can you do it?” A bag of frosting was thrust into Talia’s arms before she could protest, and she held it out in front of her like a bomb.

“I’ll ruin it!”

“Yeah, but if you do, Walker will still think you hung the moon. Just write something like ‘Happy Birthday, Mr. President,’” Amala sang in a breathy voice then squatted down in the classic Marilyn Monroe pose, holding down her blown-up dress.

“Very funny.” Talia rolled her eyes and stepped toward the cake.

“How ‘bout, ‘Happy Birthday, I’m secretly in love with you’?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“You want like a list? It all started in the sixth grade with a kid named—”

“Amala!”

“No, the kid’s name was Carl, silly,” Amala corrected with a raised finger. “Carl was a racist. And with a name like Carl, his parents were just setting him up for failure. He’s in prison now for embezzlement… or maybe it was identity theft? I don’t know, whatever white people get arrested for. Anyway, don’t worry, I pantsed him in front of the whole class.”

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