Page 12 of Tight End

“Language,” she admonishes me, wagging her finger. “It’s just a toy. One of the million you’ve sent over the past few months.”

I lift an eyebrow, my gaze moving around the foyer and then into the kitchen toward the back of the house. It’s a minefield of toddler toys.

“She likes to be able to see everything she has so the toy chests really aren’t too effective.” Allie blows a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. “It doesn’t help that Amazon boxes by the truckful show up every other day with deliveries for her.”

I snicker. “Careful or I’ll up the frequency to daily.”

Allie rolls her eyes. “If you do that, I will seriously have to move. As it is, it feels like we’re growing out of this place and it’s only the two of us.”

Her shoulders slump, her eyes darkening. I drop my gaze to the floor.

It’s like a huge ass elephant in the room.

I never understood why people celebrated the anniversary of loved ones’ deaths. It always seemed morbid to me, why you’d want to dwell on that moment as opposed to all the great ones.

But losing Davis the way we did, feeling that sliver of hope that things could go back to normal only to have it incineratedby the doctor’s words…I’m so sorry, he’s gone…how the fuck can I not constantly replay it, today of all days?

And I hate like hell it’s my niece’s birthday.

I suck in a breath, paste on a fake smile, and hold up the bags. “Sorry, I’ve gotta add more to the mix today. The rest are in the truck that just pulled up behind me.”

Her eyes pop open wide in horror, color dripping from her face. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”

I chuckle. “Your face was priceless. I wish I’d have snapped a picture.”

Allie lets out a sigh, I guess of relief. But can she blame me? How could I not spoil the kid, especially for her birthday?

So I let her believe there really isn’t another truck behind me. It’s the path of least resistance.

“Unca Bee,” a tiny voice cries out, followed by the slapping of bare feet against the tile floor.

I reach down to grab Julianna around the waist when she comes flying at me. Gripping her tight, I toss her into the air. Her blonde hair fans out as she sails upward.

Her belly laughs get me every time. So damn contagious.

I hold her up and blow raspberries on her pudgy belly. “Happy birthday, Jujubee,” I say. “How old are you today?”

“Two,” she yells.

“So smart.” I set her back down on the floor and hand her the gift bags. Her eyes light up like Fourth of July fireworks and she drags them into the living room to tear into them. Allie covers her face with her hands.

“Papa, I got presents,” Julianna says. The rustle of paper follows. I cringe at the sound of my father’s voice. Why the fuck did he have to be herenow?

“Don’t worry. I’ll help clean up.” I wink at Allie, ignoring the knot twisting my gut when I hear his footsteps in the hallway.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Oh, you’d better believe you will.”

I shrug. “I don’t understand why you bother when she tears the place apart again the second things are in order.”

“Because I can’t live like I’m trapped inside of a toybox?” Allie shakes her head.

But her words fade out when my father’s dark eyes meet mine.

They’re accusatory and cold.

Just like always.

“Hey, Dad,” I say, my mind going completely blank after the greeting because what the hell else do I really have to say that wouldn’t completely sever the very delicate ties that still somewhat hold us together?

---