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“Why?” I can’t help the question. Why would Sumner get me anything?
“It’s a gift. For your birthday.” Her focus falls to the sheet of construction paper. “Oh, shoot. We should have done the hat first. Stand still.” She wraps the paper around my head, measuring for size and taping the edges in place. “It’s perfect!”
I move to get a blurry view of my reflection through the stainless steel of the fridge, seeing a tall and very pointed blue cone for a hat.
It looks ridiculous.
“I’ve gotta be honest, Vix. I don’t like this at all.”
“Well, that’s just a bonus.” She pushes me aside to put the dessert on the counter.
I pick up the waffle cones she bought, pulling one out of the box. “These are fun and all, but it’s way too hot out. The ice cream will melt through the bottom.”
“That’s why I got these.” Sumner holds up the bag of mini marshmallows, tearing it open and dropping one into the cone. “Now it won’t drip through.”
The fluff falls to the bottom, sitting at the base of the edible bowl. “That’s ingenious,” I admit, staring down at the perfect miniature barrier. “Where did you learn to do this?”
Her back is to me now, opening the tub of ice cream. “I picked up that little trick from foster home number three.” She continues what she’s doing like what she just said didn’t faze her at all.
“How many were there? Different foster homes, I mean.”
“Five. Unless you count the ones that only lasted a few weeks. Then seven, eight, maybe. I stopped keeping track.”
“You had no one else? No other family?”
Her shoulders tense. After a pause, she continues what she’s doing. “Just me.” Her tone is cheery, a mask to hide the bitter truth of that statement.
I can relate to Sumner in the way of having no family. Apart from my uncle, a man who showed me firsthand that blood isn’t always thicker than water. Like Sumner though, I grew up without my parents. Unlike her, I had stability. Ashen’s family took me in.
There’s a pull in me, a want to comfort her. It’s met with the battle of rage that wants nothing but to tear her down. My greatest loss was because of Sumner, and she doesn’t even know it. She has no idea what she took from me. I’ve hated her for my entire life, a girl I hadn’t even met until recently.
But she is hurting too.
I step closer, reaching out to place my hand on her shoulder, nearly doing so when a knock at the door halts me. Sumner looks back and I lower my arm. Our eyes catch, only for a moment, before I turn to see who’s at the house.
The door swings open to the adopted brother himself. He wrinkles his nose as he looks up at me. “Dude, what the hell is on your head?”
I sigh when I remember the dumb hat Sumner put on me. “We’re celebrating my birthday,” I grumble, grabbing the cone of shame and crumbling it in my hand before tossing it to the side table.
“Your what?”
“Apparently, it’s a thing humans do. Celebrate the day of their birth.”
“Did you tell her she’s about twenty-three years too late?”
“No, no. They do it every year.” Because why spend only one day in your lifetime being the center of attention?
We walk into the kitchen at the worst possible moment. Sumner’s back is to us. She’s bending over, picking up a few marshmallows that must have spilled on the floor. The dress she wore for the occasion, normally mid-thigh length, rises high up the backs of her legs.
Ashen blows out a whistle, eyeing her like she’s the dessert. “You’ve got her dressed up and cleaning for you? Fuck, it’s my birthday in a few months. What do ya say we move this party over to my place?”
“Ashen,” she deadpans, returning the greeting as she straightens to look at us. “How’re the balls?”
“Still recovering after you, sweetheart.” He throws her a wink. Sumner gives the smallest smile before tossing the fallen sweets in the trash and exiting the room.
Okay. What?
We spend the next few hours doing all the weird birthday activities Sumner swears is tradition. She put a lit match in my ice cream, apologizing for forgetting the candles, then sang a cheesy as fuck song before having me blow it out.
