20. Chapter 20

Jett: Happy 21st, little bro!

Saylor: Happy 21st! Drink up for me!

@saylor-riggsby has tagged you in a photo

@ctueaglesfb has mentioned you in their story

@qboyd31 has tagged you in a photo

T he blaring sound of my alarm has my arm swinging to the side to grab my phone. Sliding my thumb against the screen, silence falls over the room. It's Monday morning, and my body is not ready to start this week. The team had a tough away game against a scrappy opponent. We kicked it into gear during the second half and pulled out a forty-two to seventeen victory.

Stretching my arms in the air, I tilt my head from side to side before rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Tossing the covers off my body, I sleepily leave my room and go to the bathroom I share with Bret. We arrived at the apartment yesterday and found Bret on a cleaning spree. Music blared from her speaker, and all of the windows, including the sliding glass doors, were open. She insisted she didn't want our help, and my body was too sore to argue .

Scanning our shared bathroom, I notice all of her items are missing from the counter. Everything is tucked away in its place. It's very unusual for her to put her things away. As much as my chaotic mind strives for order, I don't push her on the state of our bathroom. Instead, I let her do what she wants since it's her space too.

Pulling open the drawer to grab my toothbrush, I find a sticky note sitting on top. Gripping the yellow paper, I read over her handwriting as a yawn breaks free.

I smile as I read over how she signed the note with the nickname I gave her. Tucking the paper in my pocket, I reach for my toothbrush. As I brush my teeth, I can't help but think about how crazy this school year has been.

Bret showing up at our doorstep was not something I would have imagined happening, especially because she's our new roommate. As frustrated as I was that she showed up and lied about her name—okay, she didn't lie per se, but she definitely withheld information in our friendship—I'm thrilled she's here. This year is challenging with the pressure of football and classwork, not to mention the homesickness that hits me in waves, but having Bret here has been a saving grace.

Even with her dark past and an asshole ex who caused unnecessary drama in her life, she isn't letting it ruin her. The girl is always wearing a smile, cracking jokes, and leaving a trail of warmth wherever she goes. She might not see it, but I sure as hell do.

Opening the bathroom door, I scratch at my chest hair and stumble into the living room, still half asleep. My feet trip over each other as I take in the living room. Between the coffee table and TV stand are piles of inflated balloons. Turning toward the dining table, I find a big cutout photo of myself jumping in the air for a pass. A construction paper sign is taped to the image, saying, "21 and ready to tackle the booze!"

I walk toward the kitchen and hope Bret is waiting for me, but I find it empty when I round the corner. My shoulders deflate a little, but it's still early, and Bret is never up when we are. Heading back into my room, I get ready for the day.

I'm walking through the nearly empty parking lot after I've wrapped up my last class of the day. It's been a long day, but good. After practice today, the guys all sang Happy Birthday to me. It was a horrible rendition, but all that mattered was the thought.

Tina, the cashier in the cafeteria, heard it was my birthday and gave me a huge cookie for free. And my phone has been blowing up with messages all day. Now I'm just ready to go home, see my girl, and call it a day. We'll save the partying for the weekend since it's a Monday night.

Reversing out of my parking spot, a call comes through the radio. I hit the phone button on my steering wheel to answer.

"Happy birthday to my favorite middle child." Mom's voice is like a breath of fresh air .

I chuckle as I stop at the light and flick on my signal. "I'm your only middle child."

"Therefore, my favorite. Have you had a good birthday?"

"It's been pretty good. It's Monday, so nothing crazy is going on." Pushing down on the accelerator, I turn toward the apartment complex.

"I'm glad to hear you're not having a wild party. You've always been my good child."

"The bar wasn't too hard to reach."

Her laugh fills the car. "No, Jett sure gave us a run for our money. Have you heard from him today?"

Leaning my elbow against the windowpane, I rest my head against my fist. "Yeah, he sent me a text. Any idea when he's coming home?"

"No idea. Hopefully soon." She pauses, the weight of my brother's absence weighs heavily on her. "But we're not going to let that dampen your birthday. I can't believe it's been twenty-one years since we brought you home from the hospital. Your dad would be so proud of the man you've become."

A lump in my throat grows. I miss my dad so damn much. His death weighs heavily over the family, but day by day, we've learned to move forward. We'll never forget him, but life doesn't stop because he's no longer with us. Birthdays and holidays always seem to hit the hardest.

"Thanks, Mom," I choke on the words.

"Oh, sweetie, I didn't mean to upset you."

Easing onto the brakes, I signal as I turn into the apartment complex. I guide the truck along the path to our building. "You didn't upset me, Mom. It's just hard not having him here."

"You know he's watching over you and has the best seat in the house for your games."

"That he does." Turning the wheel, I pull into an empty parking space.

"Well, anyway, I won't keep you. I just wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday. I love you, sweetheart."

I smile. "I love you too, Mom. Tell the family I said hello."

We disconnected the call, and I switched the ignition off. Gripping the handle, I pull it toward me and open the door. Sliding out of my seat, I reach for my bags before shutting the door behind me.

Climbing the stairs, a somber mood tries to pull me under, but I fight to keep the feeling away. Slipping my key into the lock, I twist the knob as the front door opens. I'm met with a pitch-black apartment and complete silence. Apparently, I'm going to spend my birthday alone. Crossing over the threshold, I flick the light switch on.

Shouts of "Surprise!" ring out, and I startle. Clutching my heaving chest, I fight to catch my breath as I bring my soul back to my body.

"Holy fuck!"

Closing the door behind me, I take in the not-empty apartment. Shades of green and blue streamers—my favorite colors—hang from the ceiling as more balloons have invaded our space. Heads of my friends peek out from the kitchen doorway, my bedroom doorway, and the living room. A sign on the entryway table reads " entry fee one shot" with disposable red plastic shot glasses filled with amber liquid. Holes surround some of the glasses where people have taken a shot upon entry.

"Grab a shot!" Bret's cheerful voice sounds from down the hall. I watch as she bounces toward me as someone switches on the music, and 2 Chainz's "Birthday Song" starts playing through the speakers.

Reaching for a glass, I hold one out for her as I pick up one for myself. "Only if you do one with me. "

"I'm never going to make it to the Eagle's Nest," she mumbles but takes the cup from my hands.

"Wait," Brynn shouts as she comes rushing toward us. She holds her phone out. "You two get together so we can take a picture of the birthday boy taking his first legal shot. We all know Riggs isn't new to alcohol."

Chuckling, I watch as a nervous Bret sidles up next to me. Tossing my arm over her shoulder, I pull her closer but still at a friend's safe distance. Holding our shots out, we hold them in a cheers position while Brynn snaps the picture. "Got it. Now drink up, bitch."

"Happy birthday, Crew." The two of us tap cups before shooting the shots. The warm liquid hits my tongue as I swallow the cinnamon-flavored liquor. We're in for a wild night if we start with cinnamon whiskey.

Licking my lips, I shiver. "Did you plan all this?"

"What are secret girlfriends for?" she shrugs, flashing me a playful smirk.

"Riggsby!" Harris shouts over the music. "Happy fucking birthday, man!"

Nudging Bret's shoulder in a silent gesture of endearment, I walk toward my best friend, who's standing in the hallway opening, arms outstretched. We pull each other in for a quick, friendly embrace, our arms crossing diagonally over each other's backs. We seal the gesture with a few taps to the back before stepping apart with easy smiles.

JP and Grant step up to us, both slapping me on the back. "Did all you fuckers know about this?"

Harris and JP's guilty expressions are the only answers I need. Grant points his beer bottle toward his sister. "She just told me last night."

Flicking my gaze from my friends to my girl, I watch as she tilts her head back and laughs at something Brynn says. Brynn rubs her belly over her tight T-shirt, and I notice her tiny baby bump for the first time. I still can't believe she and Q are having a kid. He called us a couple of weeks ago and told us the news. It was the day after Bret had all of the girls over while we had an away game.

"Drink up, motherfucker." Cody shoves a can of beer into my hands as he slaps my back. "Happy twenty-first, man."

Popping the tab, I chug the ice-cold light beer. Cody chuckles. "You're going to have a fun practice tomorrow."

"That's tomorrow's problem."

I mill around the party for the next hour, surrounded by twenty or so of my closest friends. I drink beer after beer and shot after shot as music plays the soundtrack of our night. Plastic cups and cans litter our apartment. No wonder Rebel was busy cleaning yesterday. A happy buzz has infiltrated my system, and I can feel the floppy grin spread across my face. Everything seemed a little brighter and a little funnier as the world felt pleasantly blurred.

I'm leaning against the doorway when I feel a woman's body lean into mine. Instantly, I know it's not my Rebel. Glancing down, I find Brynn staring up at me. "You're glowy."

She chuckles. "Thank you, I think? I brought the birthday boy another shot, but I'm unsure if you need it right now." I shrug, flashing her a dopey grin. "There's our golden retriever."

I quirk a brow, and she nudges my side. "Your what?"

She smiles. "Every time you get drunk, you become the human version of a golden retriever. Your eyes spark with joy, and you always have this huge smile plastered on your face. You become so affectionate, always throwing your arms around us, doling out hugs, and giving us high-fives like you're just so thrilled to be around us. Not to mention your energy as you bounce around. It's infectious and absolutely adorable. "

"If I'm a puppy, can I live with you and Q?" Leaning down, I rub her belly and take on a baby-talk voice. "And, of course, the little sprout, too."

"Oh my god, Riggsby." She wraps her arm around my waist for a side hug. Hugging her back, I rest my arm on her shoulder as we observe the party.

Bret stands with her back to the balcony doors as her body is angled toward the TV. She has a whisk in her hand as a makeshift microphone as she reads off lyrics on the screen. The Killers "Mr. Brightside" plays as Bret attempts to sing the lyrics. Thankfully, she balls better than she sings. I watch her bounce as she dances to the beat, waving her arms and holding the whisk to her face.

Brynn taps my chest, pulling my attention away from Rebel. She smirks up at me when my eyes land on her. "Don't worry, Riggsby, your secret is safe with me."

I quirk my brow, and she hands me a plastic shot glass. "Happy birthday, Riggs." Shooting the cinnamon whiskey, my lids close, and I smile, feeling completely carefree.

Who said Monday night birthdays suck?

This has been the best night surrounded by my favorite people. The hangover waiting for me is going to make my Tuesday terrible, but that's tomorrow's concern—nothing a few iced lattes won't cure.