him, with candles in the shape of a couple of twos. Store-bought, obviously, but it was for the best because although he’d been assisting Emerson in the kitchen with dinner every night, he couldn’t be trusted with desserts.
“Make a wish,” Audrey said, and when he glanced up, he saw a look pass between her and Emerson. What was that about? He’d noticed it often lately, as if the two of them were in on something the rest of them weren’t. He shut his eyes for a brief moment and wished for the same thing he had daily since the accident. To feel more like himself, whatever that meant.
Rhys welcomed his twenty-second birthday because it had been a rough few weeks. But he also couldn’t help feeling like he had lost most of his twenty-first year to the shadows of his brain. Returning to Hawkeye Hill a couple of weekends ago didn’t help jog his memory, but he was glad he’d gone back to the place of his accident, even though he knew Emerson feared it was the wrong move. He noted the disappointment mixed with wariness in Emerson’s expression on the ride back, and he’d even shushed Audrey when she’d brought it up after they’d gotten home.
Regardless, it had been like overcoming a hurdle because he’d been a bit frightened about what he might discover. Unfortunately, the only thing he’d figured out was that he couldn’t see himself ever climbing again. So not only had he lost his memory, but a bit of himself in the process. Thus, the birthday wish.
As Emerson cut the cake, Rhys doled out scoops of ice cream, his balance much sturdier now. His ribs still ached, but he had fewer bouts of dizziness, and he could pretty much fend for himself. He had weaned himself off the pain meds, only needing to take one occasionally or when Emerson gave him a stern look after a strenuous day. His last appointment with his doctor had been a positive one, and he only needed one more follow-up, unless his symptoms returned.
His birthday also marked another celebration of sorts because he’d be sleeping in his own bed again that weekend, and he was going back to work on Monday, on a part-time basis. Though he’d admit to feeling melancholy about it. They had become like a family unit, eating dinner together and taking evening strolls around the neighborhood. Though it was more him and Audrey because she really enjoyed it, and he promised to take her on a mini hike at the peak of the fall leaves.
Sam liked to perch himself on the porch with one nonfiction book or another until they returned from their walk around the block, and most nights Emerson stayed with him. Rhys normally found Emerson with his legs sprawled on the top step, and looking down at his phone.
Seeing him waiting there always made his heart flutter, probably because Emerson felt like home and not because he was a devastatingly handsome man with wavy, cinnamon hair that matched those freckles dotting his cheeks. Straight man, he reminded himself.
And, of course, he truly appreciated all Emerson had done for him. Rhys still felt guilty for using the parents’ master, but he’d begun to see a change in Emerson. He was more relaxed as he easily slipped beneath the covers to watch a video or TV show, and the other day, when Emerson got back from work and found the kids with their homework spread out on the king-size bed, Rhys noted the contentment on his face.
Once they finished their cake and ice cream, he could tell Sam was bursting at the seams.
“What is going on with you?” he asked in an amused tone.
“Sam is anxious to get to the gifts,” Emerson replied, giving him a knowing look.
“By all means, let’s do it,” he said as he stacked the empty dishes in the center of the table, a routine he’d gotten accustomed to the longer he stayed with them. “You didn’t have to buy me anything, but I’m not gonna complain.”
As Emerson carried the plates to the sink, Sam reached for a medium-sized box on the floor. Rhys could tell he’d wrapped it himself because the creases and tape were slapdash, but it only made Rhys appreciate it more.
“This is for you,” Sam said, and Rhys noted how his fingers trembled with excitement.
Emerson and Audrey gathered around as he ripped off the paper and noted the photo on the box. “Wow, a butterfly kit,” he