Chapter 65
Sienna's POV
Hayes in high school, sneaking away from his family's elaborate birthday galas—the ones packed with his father's business associates and hollow congratulations—to drive me out to the empty overlook above the valley. Just the two of us, sitting in his car under the stars, eating gas station snacks and talking about everything and nothing.
One year I'd hidden a handmade card in his training jacket pocket. Nothing fancy—just a sketch of a football and a crescent moon with the words Happy birthday to my favorite quarterback scrawled in my messy handwriting.
He'd kept it in his chest pocket the entire day. Even during practice. Like it was something precious.
And I'd thrown all of that away.
"Sienna?" Ava's voice pulled me back to the present.
I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the burning in my eyes. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Ava's gaze was steady, understanding. "And that's okay."
"I was going to order him a birthday cake," Ava said, her tone deliberately light, "but since you're here now..." She trailed off meaningfully, letting the implication hang in the air.
I stared at the box, throat tight. "Ava, I can't—"
"You can," she said firmly. "The question is whether you will."
"He doesn't want anything from me."
"He wants everything from you," Ava corrected without hesitation. "He's just been hurt too badly to ask for it."
It hit like a punch.
Her voice softened. "My brother has spent the past six years barely living. Going through the motions. And the only time I've seen him come alive again is since you walked back into his life."
She moved toward the door, then stopped one more time, her hand on the knob.
"If you still care about him—and I think we both know you do—don't let him spend another birthday alone."
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me sitting there with the crushing weight of everything I'd been trying so hard not to feel.
---
By the time evening rolled around, I still hadn't figured out what to do.
I'd spent the entire afternoon in a fog of indecision, thinking about what Ava had said and scrolling mindlessly through data I couldn't process.
The sun had set. The villa was quiet except for the sounds of Cindy preparing dinner in the kitchen.
When I finally heard his car pull into the driveway at 7 p.m., my heart kicked into overdrive.
I forced myself to sit on the couch, tablet open in front of me like I'd been working this whole time. Tried to look casual. Normal.
The door opened and Hayes walked in, his hair still damp from the facility showers, training jacket slung over one shoulder.
He moved straight to the kitchen without acknowledging me, pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, and drank half of it in one long pull. His throat worked as he swallowed, and I found myself watching the movement before I could stop myself.
He set the bottle down and leaned against the island, finally glancing toward the living room where I sat. Our eyes met for a brief second before I quickly looked back down at my tablet.
Say something, I told myself. Find a way to ask about tomorrow without making it obvious you care.
"You look like you have something to say," Hayes said, just standing there watching me.
I needed to say something. Needed to find an opening.
"So," I started, keeping my eyes fixed on the tablet screen. "After the game tomorrow... do you have any plans?"
Silence. Then: "Team'll probably hit up a bar. Standard post-game routine."
I flipped to another page I wasn't actually reading. "And after that?"
Hayes straightened slightly, and I could feel his gaze sharpening on me. "Sleep, probably. Why?"
"Just curious," I said quickly. Too quickly.
Another pause. Longer this time.
"That's it?" I added, unable to help myself. "Nothing else?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hayes push off the island and walk closer, stopping at the edge of the living room. "Sienna."
Something in his tone made me look up.
He was watching me with a mixture of curiosity and something that might have been amusement. "Are you trying to ask me something?"
"No," I said, heat flooding my face. "I was just—making conversation."
"Right." His mouth quirked slightly. "You know you're terrible at lying."
I kept my eyes glued to the tablet, even though I'd stopped reading entirely. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Hayes was quiet for a moment. Then he said, voice dropping lower, "You want to know if I have birthday plans."
My head snapped up before I could stop myself.
He'd known this whole time. Known exactly what I was trying to do.
"I wasn't—" I started, but the knowing look in his eyes cut me off.
Hayes watched me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across his features. Then he spoke again, quieter this time.
"You know what I used to want on my birthday?"
I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.
"To be with someone who actually cared," he continued, gaze never leaving mine. "Eat something decent." He paused. "Not a crowd. Not a party. Just... quiet."
The air between us felt charged, heavy.
"You used to complain I was boring," he added, and something that might have been a smile ghosted across his lips. "Said nobody spends their birthday sitting at home doing nothing."
The memory slammed into me with brutal clarity.
Me at seventeen, sprawled across his bed in the summer before senior year, teasing him mercilessly about being the most anti-social birthday person I'd ever met. And Hayes pulling me into his arms, voice lazy and warm: Having you here is enough. That's all I need.
The living room fell completely silent.
Hayes moved toward the stairs, then stopped with one hand on the banister. He didn't turn around.
"These days," he said, voice so quiet I almost didn't hear it, "what I want hasn't really changed."
My breath caught.
"The difference is," he continued, still not looking back, "the person I wanted there actually came back."
My heart stopped.
I looked up sharply, but he was already climbing the stairs, his footsteps slow and deliberate.
I pressed a hand over my racing heart, trying to steady my breathing. But it was useless. Because I understood exactly what he was saying. He was telling me—in his careful, guarded way—that he still wanted me here.
That maybe he'd always wanted me here.
I stood on shaky legs. "Goodnight," I called after him, my voice barely above a whisper.
Hayes paused at the top of the stairs. Didn't turn around, but I saw his shoulders tense slightly.
"Goodnight, Sienna."
Then he disappeared down the hallway.
I stood there in the empty living room for a long time, staring at the place where he'd been, my chest tight and aching.
Tomorrow was his birthday. And the game.
And tomorrow, I was going to have to decide if I had the courage to stop keeping him at arm's length.