Page 87 of The Defender

Vincent didn’t mention Noah again, and I didn’t ask about his sudden change in attitude. The night was too beautiful to ask questions I might not want answered.

“So, how does this birthday rank against the others?” I asked. Maybe it was the lingering alcohol in my system, but the weather didn’t feel as cold as it had earlier.

We finished our pizza and washed it down with water. We tossed the empty bottles into a nearby trash bin before resuming our walk.

“Honestly, I don’t remember most of them,” he admitted. “Vegas? Gone. Ibiza? A blur. But if I had to guess, this one would probably rank pretty high.”

“It’s the villa, isn’t it?” I quipped. “It looks like a palace.”

We turned right onto a quieter side street. The club was located on one of Budapest’s main thoroughfares. It was packedto the brim with bars and restaurants, so busy that the Saturday night crowds spilled onto the pavements outside. But the street we were on was lined with small businesses, all of which had already closed for the night. The noise from the main avenue faded the further we walked.

“Nah, it’s the underwear with my face on it,” Vincent said. “Best present I’ve ever gotten.”

I laughed. “I suck at Photoshop, and it took me forever to create that image. So I’m glad you like it.”

“I do. But there’s another reason this trip ranks high.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

My laughter subsided. Vincent said it easily, as though it were no big deal, but the word landed like a match in gasoline. It was impossible to breathe through the sudden haze clouding my mind.

I came to a standstill. He followed suit, his body angling to face mine. The white puffs of our exhales mingled in the air between us.

“You enjoy my company that much, huh?” Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. I barely heard it over the roar of my pulse.

“Only in comparison with other people.”

“As opposed to…”

“Truffle the pig. Noise-canceling headphones. My custom Zenith sneakers.” His tone was flippant, but something softer, more intense, flickered beneath the surface.

“I know you’re not ranking me below a pig and footwear.”

“No mention of the headphones? Interesting.”

“I like them more than you too, so I understand.”

“Ihighlydoubt that.”

“Sorry,” I said with a shrug. “Bose wins over DuBois every time.”

A smile shadowed his mouth. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly.

The haze in my mind thickened. “Me too.”

It struck me that this was the first private moment we’d had since he moved out. The Blackcastle hallway didn’t count; that was at work. And while it’d been just us that morning, when I gave him his birthday gift, we were still in the villa where our friends could walk in at any minute.

Here, on a side street at midnight in Budapest, we were alone, with only the whispers of old memories to keep us company.

I hope you stay. It wouldn’t be the same without you.

Who made you cry?

I’m glad you’re here.

A droplet of water landed on my nose. Thunder clapped again, followed by a streak of lightning. The skies threatened rain, but my feet were rooted to the spot.