“You’re a menace.” He says it so softly, I don’t think he means for me to hear it.
He has no idea.
We drink in silence for several long moments. Or, rather, I drink and Devan watches me. Now that the time is upon me, my courage wavers. Just because Devan has been such a huge, if contained, part of my life doesn’t mean he feels the same way. I very well could have imagined that spark that seems to sizzle between us whenever he gets too close. Just like I could have misinterpreted what happened on my last birthday…
I close my eyes and steel my nerves. No. I didn’t misinterpret. I’m nearly certain of it, but there’s really only one way to find out and it involves shooting my shot in a way he can’t ignore. “I’m not getting in a cab, Devan.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m actually not.” I twist on my barstool to face him, only stopping when my knees connect with his. The tiniest of touches, but it shoots through me like a bomb going off. “It’s almost my birthday.”
“I’m aware.” His thigh tenses, but he doesn’t otherwise move... Not even to shift away.
“You’re early. Normally you don’t show up until the day of, and you at least let me have some fun before you show up to act like the birthday Grinch.” Though I doubt what happened last year could be called fun by any definition of the word. Fun is light and fluffy and maybe a little chaotic. My last birthday was fiery and burrowed beneath my skin in a way I’m afraid I’ll never escape. I’ve certainly fantasized about it often enough.
Best not to think about that if I want to keep my focus.
“Strange way to say thank you.”
“Because I’m not saying thank you,” I snap back. “I never asked you to come looking for me, and I never asked you to save me.”
Devan stares at the wall of bottles behind the bar. “You needed saving.”
As much as I want to argue, it’s the truth. I was free falling for a long time after my parents’ death, and even when I finally found my feet, the one day of year certain to send me into a tailspin is my birthday. Every single fucking year. So maybe he’s a tiny bit right about my needing saving. “There may have been a few times when you were helpful.”
He finally meets my gaze, and my breath catches in my throat. He’s so fucking handsome, I can barely stand it. A thick body that might give really good hugs or might just allow him to rip someone’s head clean off. Dark hair that’s a little too long and showing no signs of graying, despite the fact that he has to be in his early forties at this point. A really well-maintained beard that smelled like cloves last year when I had my face buried in his neck while he carried me.
I can’t read Devan’s expression clearly. All I know is that it’s intense. He speaks in a low voice, saying so much with only a single word. “Amsterdam.”
“Amsterdam,” I agree on a sigh. Twenty-two. Bar-hopping with a bunch of people I’d just met that night, too many drinks; one of which ended up getting dosed with something. I don’t remember Devan showing up. I don’t remember much of anything at all after taking shots with a group of guys I’d declared my new best friends. The next thing I knew, I came to, draped over a toilet with Devan’s hands in my hair, holding it away from my face as I puked my guts out. That’s the only time he’s stayed longer than to just deliver me to a plane back home. He took care of me.
He’s been taking care of me for a long time, though not in a guardian kind of way.
I force myself to hold his gaze. I spent too many years being a total train wreck, but I’m not that girl anymore. Realistically, I have a lifetime of work ahead of me but I’ve made a lot of progress since twenty-two. I’m putting in my time in therapy, working through all the baggage I’ve been dragging behind me for far too long.
Then what is tonight about?
I ignore the little voice that sounds remarkably like my therapist. Tonight is about closure. Shutting the door on one part of my life and opening a different door into the future. And…maybe… Maybe I’ve still got a wild streak, because I want this. I want it more knowing I shouldn’t have it. “This isn’t Amsterdam. That was a bad birthday.”
Devan leans forward the tiniest bit, his dark eyes drilling into mine. “Have there been any good birthdays, Hazel?”
I flinch a little. It’s a fair question. My first instinct is to avoid it, but that’s not fair to either of us. Instead, I take a slow breath and straighten my spine. “I’m hoping this one will be the first.”