Page 58 of My Three Hometown Alphas

I suck in a deep breath. “Her comedic timing is gold,” I say, wrapping my arm around Avery’s shoulders. My tone grows more serious. “Thanks for doing all of this.”

“It wasn’t just me.”

“I know, but I also know you played a big part in it.”

“Everyone deserves to be celebrated on their big day. Also, your niece is a little bit bossy when it comes to birthdays.”

I can’t help but think about what her birthdays will look like now that her dad’s gone.I want her to spend them with us.

The thought makes the air in my lungs feel trapped and uncomfortable. How can my heart yearn so desperately for something that just can’t be?

She’s leaving. She’s leaving.

I just have to keep telling myself that.

The pizza was great. The cake was delicious. The presents everyone gave me were wonderful. Now, there’s just one more large, wrapped package sitting in the middle of the coffee table.

Lyla picks it up, handing it to me. “This one’s from me and Avery,” she says.

I carefully peel the paper away, revealing a large collage-style picture frame.

The wood around each frame is decorated in dried wildflowers that are covered in something glossy and smooth. There are pictures with Lyla, my brothers, and my parents.

The first thought I have is that I wish there was at least one with Avery in it.

Lyla runs her fingers over the flowers. “Avery and I picked the flowers. Then we dried them. Then we put them on here with this weird glue stuff. Then, we had to wait forever for it to dry. Then we finally put the pictures inside,” she says, practically all of it in one breath.

I open my mouth to say something, but she blurts out, “Oh… and then we wrapped it.”

I can’t help the smile her rambling causes. “Thank you. I love it,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her small frame.

Lyla taps on the one empty spot that’s missing a picture. “We thought we could take a picture tonight to put there.”

“That would be perfect,” I say, emotion clogging my throat.

“I’ll take it,” Avery says, standing with her phone clutched in her hand.

I know what she’s doing. She doesn’t want to be in the picture for a memory that will sit in this frame forever when she won’t be here past the next few weeks.

“No,” I say, firmly.

She turns to look at me, clearly confused.

“You’re going to be in the picture, too,” I say. Whether she likes it or not, she’s going to be. “Owen has the longest arms. He can take it.”

“Everyone had better snuggle up, then,” Owen grumbles.

We pack in like sardines on a couple of couch cushions with Owen on the far side, so he can hold up his phone for a selfie. Avery still stands before all of us, unsure of where to sit.

I grab her hips, pulling her down onto my lap. She lets out a small gasp, but it only takes a breath for her to relax against me.

One of my hands snakes around her waist, holding her against me. The other rests on her thigh. My thumb traces a line up and down over the denim.

Owen stretches his phone out as far as he can, somehow getting us all in the frame. We all smile, faces pressed together as he snaps several shots per my mom’s orders.

If it was up to him, he would have taken only one—or maybe none at all.

A brief smile crosses my lips as I press my face against Avery’s hair. I might not get to have her, but I’ll have something to remember this summer by.