Page 40 of Always You

“Tell you what. When it comes true, I’ll tell you.”

“Alright, I can live with that.”

“Good.” He moves his arm around my neck, tucking me against his side, and automatically, I lay my head against his chest, enjoying the comfort of his body against mine. I could stay like this forever. Spending my nights with him, just hanging out. Talking. Teasing each other. Him flirting with me. Me scolding him for it.

In such a short period of time, he’s truly become one of my best friends.

And no matter what, I’d like to keep that.

“What y’all doing?” The door opens with a screech, and my mom steps outside, wearing her bathrobe and some slippers. She looks alright, considering I left her too exhausted to put her nightgown on, even though her face is marked with fatigue. Her skin is pale, her lips a little burst, but nonetheless, she brightens the night with her smile.

Hunter clears his throat, then quickly removes his arm from my body. I straighten my back, throwing my legs in front of me as he tightens with discomfort.

“Hey, Mama.” I give her a smile while I glance at Hunter, who’s swallowing awkwardly, as if he’s getting an unexpected audience with the queen. I like that he apparently feels the need to make a good impression on my mother. “It’s Hunter’s birthday. I’ve made us a cocktail to celebrate.”

“Evening, Mrs. Roux.” Hunter gets up to offer his hand, and she happily takes it before wrapping him in her arms as if she’s known him his whole life. Tenderly, I watch it happen in front of me, biting my lip to hold back my grin. I didn’t expect my mother to reply any other way, but it still warms my chest.

“Well, happy birthday, Hunter. I hope my daughter has been nice to you?” Her southern drawl is way deeper than mine, bringing out that charm that has its way of drawing people in. I nod in response, refraining myself from rolling my eyes at her, while they let go of each other, and Mama takes a seat in the armchair in front of us.

“She has.” Hunter beams, now that she clearly made him a bit more at ease. “Even got me a Snowball with a candle, sang me a song and everything.”

“Did she now?” Her eyebrows move into her hair as her gaze finds me and a smile splits her face.

“I did.” I shrug, then throw Hunter an accusing look. “I would’ve done more, but I can only do so muchwhen your friend forgets to mention it’s his birthday until thirty minutes before midnight.”

His shoulders slump with guilt. “I told you, I never celebrate my birthday.”

“Why is that, Hunter?” Mama asks while she reaches her hand over the table, silently asking for my drink. I hand it to her, then get up and go back to the kitchen to make another one.

13

“Why is that, Hunter?”

She’s looking at me with the same gorgeous blue-green eyes as Charlotte, pinning me with the same ability to melt my defenses in the blink of an eye. While Charlotte’s eyes are filled with joy, love, and excitement, her mama’s eyes come with a sense of comfort that makes me want to open up to her even though I don’t know the woman.

For a second, it reminds me of my mother, looking down at me while I peer up at her from above my Pokémon duvet, waiting for a goodnight kiss. But I slam it out of my head as quickly as it comes.

I watch Charlotte go back inside, then rear my head back to Elizabeth Roux.

My shoulders jerk, a little lost for words, but she patiently smiles at me, and I cave, just like I do for her daughter every damn day.

“After my father and my brother died, we didn’t really celebrate anything anymore.”

Too busy to get through the day in general. That first few weeks, I lived off a lot of casseroles and frozen meals; thank God for the neighbors pitching in. But the more time progressed, the less they brought, and the more my mother started buying bottles of vodka, forgetting about groceries altogether. Let alone reminding herself about my birthday.

“I get that.” She gracefully brings the glass to her lips, though the fatigue is set on her face. Her head is covered with a soft lilac beanie, and I imagine a voluminous pile of blonde hair sitting underneath it, even though I know the chances are unlikely.

“It’s hard when life screws you over like that. But take it from someone who doesn’t know how many birthdays she’s got left...” Her eyes mist over, but she keeps a steady voice, showing an inkling of the strength this woman possesses. “Every single one of them counts, because it means you’re still here. You arestillhere and whatever you wanna do or whoever you wanna be, it’s never too late.”

It feels bittersweet. I’m grateful that Charlotte has a mother like this, because she deserves nothing less, but it’s also a bit gloomy for me, wishing my mother was half as strong as Elizabeth is.

She eyes me with a serious look on her face, as if she wants to make sure I’m listening to her. “Because you’restillalive. Celebrate your birthday, Hunter. They are important, becauseyouare important. At least to my little girl, you are.” She brings her glass up to me, a silent cheers in the air while I swallow, trying to process her words. The crickets sing in the night, and I get lost in her mesmerizing eyes. They suck me in like her daughter does, but in a way I haven’t experienced in years. With a maternal pride that roars my chest alive.

Like I matter.

“Thank you, ma’am. She means a great deal to me too.” I want to be honest with her, even if it’s only a little bit.

“Oh, I know.” Her wink is taunting, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve been falling in love with my girl since that first day at the creek, haven’t you?”

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