Chapter 64
Sienna's POV
The next morning, I woke to the sound of running water downstairs and the smell of coffee drifting through the half-open bedroom door.
I carefully put on a loose sweater and the jeans I wore yesterday. My hair fell loosely over my shoulders. When I reached the dining room, Hayes was already there. His duffel bag sat by the door, tactical tablet and car keys arranged neatly beside his half-finished cup of black coffee.
When he looked up at me, for just a second, something warm flickered in his expression before his usual composure returned.
"Morning," he said, his voice still rough with sleep.
"Morning." I slid into the chair across from him, reaching for the whole wheat toast Cindy had already set out.
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes—the kind that felt easy rather than awkward. Natural, even. Like we'd done this hundreds of times before.
Hayes took a slow sip of coffee, then set down his mug and looked at me directly. "Tomorrow's game day," he said, tone casual but deliberate. "Today's mostly tactical meetings and film review." He paused. "You don't need to come along."
"Oh," I managed, keeping my voice neutral. "Okay."
He didn't elaborate. Just picked up his phone and scrolled through something.
Hayes stood, gathering his things. He moved toward the entryway, then paused at the doorframe and glanced back.
"Remember to take your medication," he said, voice edged with something that sounded like concern. He stopped at the door, as if remembering something. "Don't forget to eat on time."
This wasn't just casual instruction. This was the exact same reminder he used to give me in high school, back when I'd lose track of time sketching designs and skip dinner without realizing it. Back when reminding me had been as natural to him as breathing.
My throat went tight. I wanted to tell him I didn't need looking after, that I was perfectly capable of managing on my own. But the words stuck.
"I won't," I said quietly.
Hayes studied me for another moment, his gaze searching. Then he nodded and left.
The sound of the door closing echoed through the suddenly empty villa.
I sat there in the silence, staring at his half-empty coffee cup on the table. Without him, the house felt too big. Too quiet.
And that scared me.
Because this place had stopped feeling like temporary shelter. It had started to feel like a routine I didn't want to break. Like a life I was slowly, dangerously, allowing myself to get used to.
I shook my head, trying to clear the thought. Looked back down at the data report.
But I couldn't focus on a single number.
---
The doorbell rang around 10 a.m.
I glanced up from the couch where I'd been half-heartedly reviewing feedback data. For a moment I considered ignoring it—Hayes hadn't mentioned expecting anyone—but the bell rang again, more insistent.
Sighing, I padded to the door in slippers and opened it.
Ava stood on the threshold in a cropped black leather jacket and high-waisted jeans, looking effortlessly stylish. When she saw me, her eyes widened slightly, then her gaze swept over me as if confirming I belonged here.
A slow, knowing smile curved her lips.
"Looks like I should start knocking three times before entering," she said, amusement threading through her voice.
Heat flooded my face. "It's just temporary," I said quickly, stepping aside to let her in. "I'm only staying until—"
"Sure," Ava interrupted smoothly, breezing past me into the living room. "Just temporarily." The tone made it abundantly clear she didn't believe me for a second.
I closed the door and followed her inside, pulse kicking up. Ava settled onto the couch like she owned the place—which, in a way, she sort of did—and glanced around curiously.
"Coffee?" I offered, more to give my hands something to do than out of politeness.
"Love some."
I escaped to the kitchen, grateful for the reprieve. As I measured out grounds and waited for the machine to brew, I tried to steady my breathing.
But when I returned with two steaming mugs and handed one to her, she was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"So," she said casually, taking a sip, "I wanted to ask Hayes about tomorrow, but apparently I'm too late."
I settled onto the opposite end of the couch, wrapping both hands around my mug. "Yeah, he left pretty early."
Ava nodded, then said almost too casually, "I wanted to see if he had any plans. You know, for his birthday."
My entire body went rigid.
Tomorrow. His birthday.
I'd known the date, of course. Had spent the past six years forcing myself not to think about it, burying myself in work every time it rolled around, pretending October 15th was just another ordinary day on the calendar.
But hearing Ava say it out loud—so casual, so matter-of-fact—felt like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed.
The silence stretched. I couldn't speak, just sat there frozen while my mind spiraled.
Ava's eyebrows rose slightly. "You didn't forget, did you?"
"I—" My voice came out strangled. "No. I didn't forget."
But the truth was more complicated than that. I hadn't forgotten. I'd just spent six years trying to forget. Six years deliberately scheduling myself into exhaustion around this date so I wouldn't have time to remember. Wouldn't have space to feel the loss.
Ava's expression softened, the teasing edge fading into something gentler. She set down her mug and leaned forward slightly.
"Sienna," she said quietly, "he hasn't really celebrated in years."
I felt my chest constrict.
"After you left," Ava continued carefully, "he just stopped. No parties, no dinners with friends. Usually just film sessions and extra training." She paused, watching my face. "Last year I showed up at the facility with a cake and found him sitting alone in the dark watching game tape. When I asked what he wanted for his birthday, he said 'nothing.'"
Something inside me cracked.
The memories came flooding back before I could stop them.