“What?” I whispered.
He lifted the lid on the box and showed me the cake. Two candles—a one and an eight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, then proceeded to light them. “I hope you like white chocolate,” he said.
There was wetness in my eyes, but it wasn’t sweat this time. “How did you know?” I asked him.
“I have my ways.”
I swallowed the lump formed in my throat. “I…” I didn’t know what I wanted to say. I stared off into the distance, trying to remember the last time I’d celebrated my birthday.
“Blow them out,” Nate said, his voice low as he leaned in closer. “Who knows? Maybe your wish might come true.”
I nodded.
Closed my eyes.
And I wished for freedom.
*
He let me choose what to order for dinner considering it was my birthday and all. I chose pizza. Not for me, but for him, because I knew it was his favorite. We sat on the floor of the living room and ate. “I wanted to get you a computer,” he told me. “I had it ordered and everything but Tiny nixed the idea last minute. Sorry.”
“You were going to get me a computer?”
He just shrugged. “I wanted to get something to help you out a bit. I know you’ve been struggling lately with being cooped up in here all day.”
“You noticed?” I asked, looking up at him.
“I notice everything, Bailey,” he said with a sigh.
“I’m glad you didn’t. That’s way too expensive.”
He licked his lips and leaned back on his outstretched arms, his legs crossed at his ankles. “There’s not a lot you can do on the computer without Internet. And Tiny—he kind of crushed my dreams about not allowing you online. Just like he won’t let you watch TV or read books or magazines or anything like that. He thinks it could be dangerous… not just for you getting escape ideas but because it might make you a little crazy not being able to experience it all while you’re in here. He said—” he broke off with a quiet laugh. One I hadn’t heard before. “Let’s just say Tiny’s smart. He thinks with his head and I…” he trailed off, his gaze flicking to mine a moment before looking away.
“You what? You don’t think with your head?”
He shook his head slowly, his eyes on mine. “Not when it comes to you, apparently.”
“So…” I hesitated to ask, “What do you think with?”
He sucked in a breath before quickly coming to a stand, and my heart dropped when he walked away. I assumed the moment was over, so I started picking up the napkins and pizza boxes off the floor, but then he returned, sat back down, and held out a small silver box. “It’s not a computer,” he joked.
I picked it up, finding it impossible to breathe. I’d seen boxes like these in the many jewelry stores I’d walked past, but I’d never held one in my hands. A part of me was hesitant to accept it, but a bigger part of me was just too damn excited. And that excitement couldn’t be contained when I ripped the ribbon off and snapped the box open.
If I could bottle time, this would be one of them. Every sight, every smell, every feeling of this moment… I’d bottle it so I could experience it over and over.
Nate took the box from my hand and removed the gold bracelet, the tiny charms all coming into view. A star. A sun. A rainbow. A car. And about half a dozen others I hadn’t quite made out yet. “I figure you miss the outside world. It’s not much, I know, but maybe having these close to you will make the days go by a little easier.” He laughed once, but it was sad. “It’s dumb now that I think about it. It’ll just make you miss it more.” He grasped my hand and pulled it to him, then proceeded to clasp the bracelet around my wrist. “Do you like it?” he asked, his gaze lifting to mine, his eyebrows arched a little as he waited for my response.
And then it happened.
A single tear.
A single shaky exhale.
A single sob.
All of it escaped me at once.
I hadn’t meant to let it go.
“Why?” I choked out. “Why would you do this for me?”
His head dropped forward, his shoulders heaving with his breath. When he looked back up, his expression had changed. His jaw was tense; his lips thinned to a line. But his eyes… his eyes held a fear that had me struggling for air.
He got up quickly and held his hand out for me.
I took it.
Then he led me to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle—whiskey, I read—and poured two glasses. He offered one to me, and I accepted.
He drank his, and just as I started to lift mine, his hand covered mine around the glass. “Just wait. I need to get this out,” he rushed out.
I nodded.
And I waited.
He took another drink.
I sat up on the counter.
He watched me watch him.
Neither looking away.
He rubbed his eyes, which had become bloodshot and distant.
Another drink.
Finally, he said, “That room at the end of the hallway was my parents’.”