Page 66 of Home Sweet Home

She’d never played games, but she used to spend hours watching Josh, glancing up at the action over the pages of a book. He hadn't been to the living room to play a game in a while.

“Not sure,” her dad said. “There might be teams? Having a hard time following along. Josh, am I on the right or the left?”

Josh jerked the controller toward the TV. “Left. Watch out for the dude behind the—” There was a loud crack, and the left side of the screen went black. Josh sighed, muscles relaxing into the couch. He tossed his controller onto a cushion. “Tank.”

Her dad scratched the back of his neck with the hand not holding the controller. “Sorry, bud. My peepers got a few more miles on them than yours.”

“It’s okay,” Josh said, and when he looked up at Evie, he blinked a few times like he’d just noticed she was there. “How was Kayla’s?”

Her mind drifted back to West offering to invest in her bakery, if she wanted to open one, and the feeling of the warm wine sloshing around in her stomach the second Kayla had mentioned it was almost Evie’s birthday.

“Great.” Evie tousled Josh’s hair. “Said she’ll still make house calls for her favorite customer, though.”

Josh scrunched up his face and leapt off the sofa like the cushions were stuffed with hot coals. Halfway to his room, he turned and said, “Game was fun” before shutting the door behind him.

“How did this happen?” Evie asked.

Her dad shrugged. “I got back from having a few beers with the boys at Mel’s, and he was sitting there. Took your advice and asked him if I could join. I can’t aim worth a damn, though.”

Is he… actually taking an interest in Josh’s life?Evie narrowed her eyes at her dad, trying to figure out if she was missing something. But all she could see was Josh, saying something was fun, and even though he’d clambered back to his room the second she got home, he hadn’t slammed the door.

“That’s not what matters,” Evie said.

“How about we grill up some steaks tomorrow night?” her dad asked. “Special occasion and all.” Evie’s head tilted to the side, and he must have noticed, because he added, “Not every day your best girl turns twenty-five.”

No words could have stunned her more. Fragments of her early birthdays existed in her memory. Her face smashing into the purple frosting of a Barney cake, spelling out her name with sparklers on the lawn, and watching the trails the embers left behind. Her dad was in those, off to the side with his buddies, Bud Light in his beer cozy.

Other birthdays, the ones after he left, she remembered more clearly. The happy birthday call that came a month early, the one where she’d known he was drunk because he was slurring his words, and because she could hear the unmistakable chime of a slot machine. Some birthdays, he didn’t call at all. She had never quite figured out which was worse.

“You remembered my birthday,” Evie said.

He scoffed. “Of course I did. Got me thinking how big you are. You used to be barely up to my hip, always tugging at my sleeve, begging me to read you one more book.”

Another memory bobbed up: the two of them tucked under the covers on her bed, Evie nestling in the crook of her dad’s neck as he read the words on the page. It was hard to believe she’d forgotten those moments or how easily they came back to her, like they’d been waiting there all along.

She shook her head, a small laugh escaping. “God. I must have made you readThe Paper Bag Princessa thousand times.”

“Could never say no to my best girl,” he said, a gleam in his eye, same as the one she searched his face for every time his van pulled up after a long time being gone. And Evie wondered if maybe he was different this time. At the very least, he seemed to be trying.

* * *

“Careful, Peach.”West scooped up the baseball at Evie’s feet and threw it back to Freddy at the pitcher’s mound. “Or you’re gonna end up with another shiner.”

Oliver hit a foul that rattled the chain-link fence at the spot it smacked a few inches from Evie’s head. If the ball had been a bit closer, it would have struck her, and she wouldn’t have moved, because she hadn’t been paying the slightest bit of attention. All practice, her mind had been elsewhere. She’d found it difficult to focus on anything. Each time she finally thought she’d done it, her mind would slip away, thinking about the fact that it was her birthday. Like every birthday for the last seven years, she woke up with her stomach already aching like she’d eaten too much cake, her chest tight and unable to draw in a proper breath like she was walking up an endless flight of stairs that went nowhere. She’d felt that way the whole morning at the diner. Joe kept trying to convince her to take the day off, like he did every birthday, but she needed the distraction of work.

When West waved the boys over to huddle up, Evie let out the breath she’d been holding, grateful that she could just go home and be miserable in peace.

“That’s enough for today. Bring it in,” West said, and the boys jogged toward the dugout, their feet dragging in the dirt. They’d run five laps earlier, and the heat wasn’t anything to sniff at. “First order of business. Game against Grant. It’s at home, so no bus. And no burritos. I’m looking at you, Freddy.” The boys chuckled and Freddy smirked, and then West continued. “And last but certainly not least.” West held up a finger before disappearing behind the dugout.

Evie’s eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out what update she’d missed, then West rounded the corner, carrying something on fire. It was candles, tiny flames already melting the wax, and they were on a cake. By the time Evie understood what was happening, it was too late.

West was already back and had started singing.

“Happy birthday to you…”

The whole team sang, West’s voice overly loud and filled with bravado. Even Josh joined in, his hands tucked tight in his pockets. When West finished the song with a flourish, their stares were overwhelming, making Evie wish she could just tuck herself away in the dugout.

“Happy birthday, Peach.” His smile was so sincere, it made her teeth hurt.

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