Page 37 of Always You

I like it.

“It’s not funny! Are you turning eighteen?” She tries to keep her scowl in place, but I catch the fleeting grin pressing in the corner of her pink lips when she meets my dumbfounded look.

“Calm down, babe.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! Are you turning eighteen?” she repeats, reaching out her hand toward my face once more.

“Okay, okay,” I confess, putting my hands up in a placating gesture, not being able to keep my laugh inside. “Yes, I’m turning eighteen.”

She lets out a disappointed sigh, shaking her head.

“I’m tempted to shove my ice cream in your face, but I like ice cream too much.” She holds up her cup, bursting a full laugh from my ribcage.

“Thank God you like ice cream.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The disappointment that’s undeniable grinds my molars together. I hate to disappoint her.

“I don’t know?” I really don’t. Birthday parties are a thing of the past, and with my mother being in the state she is, I prefer it that way. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday since the accident, so I don’t feel the need to celebrate now. It’s just like any other day.”

“Except it’s not. It’s your birthday.” Her voice goes quiet, and I let out a moan in frustration.

“I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I give her a concerned look that is returned by an incredulous one from her.

“You didn’t hurt me, Hunter. It’s just sad that you don’t want to celebrate your birthday.”

Maybe it is.I guess I’m used to it by now. “Well, stay with me until midnight and it will be the best birthday I’ve ever had.” I brush my hand through her hair while she takes another bite of her ice cream. Her strands are like silk running through my fingers, stirring all the senses alive that should stay buried for as long as possible.

“Deal,” she chirps. “Let’s go to my house and hang out on the porch. That way, I can check in on my mom.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

12

My heart bleeds for the boy next to me while he drives us back to my house.

It’s his eighteenth birthday. The birthday that marks the end of your childhood, the start of your adult life, the one that means you can make your own decisions from now on.

It’s what every single teenager waits for. The moment we can stick up our chin and show the world we’re all grown up.

Yet, he didn’t feel the need to celebrate it.

With an ill mother, I’ve had to do a lot of things that no kid should. It made me grow up faster and gave me a sense of responsibility that’s made me different compared to other kids my age. But while my mother still tried to give me the best childhood she could, always finding moments where I could just be a little kid, there was no such thing for Hunter.

The end of Hunter Hansen’s childhood happened the day the car accident killed his brother and father. He lost his entire family and his innocence in one day, and it’s killing me to see it.

It’s killing me to see and hear him talk like he doesn’t matter. That his life doesn’t matter, when in reality, he has quickly become one of the most important people in my life.

Hunter pulls up to my driveway, and we both exit the car. It’s still warm out for an October night, and I look up to my mother’s bedroom window out of habit, sucking in the night air.

“Is your mom up?” He gives me an insecure look that makes me chuckle. He just knocked out a man double his size, but fear flashes in his hazel eyes, thinking about meeting my mother.

“Probably not, but she won’t bite if she is.” I try to bite back my chuckle, but his cute expression has it slipping from my lips with ease.

“Shut up.” He gives me a playful shove as we walk up the porch steps, and I put the key in the front door to open it.

We step inside, the scent of the fresh roses on the hallway side table calming my senses. I love it when my mom buys fresh flowers for the house. It enhances that feeling of home every single time I walk over the threshold. I quietly look around the empty living room as my feet travel toward the kitchen.

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