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Mike’s face darkened as he pointed an accusing finger at Irene. “Your family ruins everything they touch! Beside him, Jenny trembled, tears threatening to spill.
Joseph’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.”
The Claires glanced around the room, finally registering what they were up against–Brandon’s murderous glare, Katherine’s clenched fists, Adam’s ice–cold stare. Even they weren’t stupid enough to push their luck.
“This isn’t over, Jenny hissed, tugging Mike’s sleeve. The door slammed behind them with a bang that seemed to
echo forever.
For a beat, nobody moved. The festive decorations suddenly felt ridiculous, like a bad joke nobody laughed at.
Brandon shattered the silence, smacking his thigh hard. “Unbelievable! Even from prison, Anna’s still screwing things up!” He ran a hand through his hair, cheeks flushed with anger. “She’s not a Sterling anymore–she’s all Claire. That whole family’s rotten except for Ethan. Only good apple in that trash barrel.”
“Prison must be too comfy,” he continued, gathering steam. “Giving her parents all this free time to crash parties and ruin everything we spent days planning!”
Miles away, Nathan sneezed out of nowhere, blinking in confusion as he rubbed his nose. Weird.
Irene watched her brother rage, torn between heartfelt agreement and bone–deep exhaustion. This spotlight birthday–her first real celebration in forever–was spiraling into disaster, happiness evaporating faster than spilled champagne.
“Screw ‘em,” she said suddenly, grabbing a knife and heading toward the cake. “I’m not letting those two wreck our day.”
She cut a perfect slice and handed it to Joseph. “Here, Grandfather. Share my birthday luck. Let’s all hit a hundred,
yeah?”
Joseph’s weathered face softened as he took the plate. “Good, good, good,” he repeated, tension melting away. “That’s my girl.”
The triplets, who’d been frozen like startled deer, crept back toward the table. Their eyes sought permission in that silent way kids do when adults have just had a blowout. Irene nodded, feeling her heart lift as their grins.
returned.
She grabbed her own piece and dropped onto the sofa, managing a smile that didn’t quite stick the landing. Her fingers drummed against her knee–a little tell that Adam caught immediately.
He’d spent enough time watching her to recognize the signs: the slight tightness around her eyes, that almost invisible finger–tapping. She was freaking out about Ethan but holding it together for everyone else.
Irene barely tasted her cake. Jenny’s insults meant nothing–water off a duck’s back–but Ethan… where would he go? The kid barely knew Silver City. His crushed expression haunted her, the way his shoulders had curved inward
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like he was trying to disappear.
He’d been so damn proud of that little crystal bear.
Her only lifeline was knowing Thomas had slipped out after him. Adam had orchestrated that without her asking- just another example of how he’d started anticipating her needs before she voiced them.
The party chatter washed over her in waves as she nodded and smiled on autopilot, her thoughts still chasing a lanky teenager through unfamiliar streets.
Adam’s phone chimed, cutting through her spiral. He answered with his eyes already finding hers across the room.
“Thomas,” he said, his voice deliberately loud enough for her to hear.
Irene’s head snapped up, her cake forgotten. Adam held out the phone without her having to ask.
“Irene, got him,” Thomas’s slightly breathless voice reported. “Kid’s safe but pretty upset. Says he can’t face you-
too embarrassed.”
Relief hit her like a shot of whiskey, warm and immediate. “Thank god,” she breathed.
“Nearly lost him twice,” Thomas added, sounding almost impressed. “Kid’s quick.”
Irene considered for a moment, understanding Ethan better than he probably realized. “Don’t bring him back tonight,” she decided. “Find him somewhere to crash. I’ll talk to him tomorrow when he’s had time to chill.”
At sixteen, everything felt like the apocalypse–especially public humiliation. Forcing him back now would only pour salt on the wound. He needed space to lick his wounds, to scrape together some dignity before facing her
again.
She knew exactly what was eating him: he thought this disaster was his fault. That somehow, by showing up for her birthday, he’d caused his parents‘ behavior.
“Got it covered,” Thomas assured her. “He’ll be fine.”
As Adam pocketed his phone, their eyes met. “Thanks,” she said simply.
Those six letters carried everything she couldn’t put into words: gratitude for sending Thomas, for always having her back, for somehow knowing what she needed before she did.
Meanwhile, Thomas turned to the sullen teenager beside him. “Heard all that? Your sister’s worried sick. She wants you to take some breathing room, but I’m supposed to make sure you don’t sleep under a bridge.”
Ethan stared at his shoes, guilt written across his face like graffiti. “Shouldn’t have come. Just made everything
worse.”
“Nope,” Thomas countered, surprisingly gentle. “You made her day. Your parents trashed it. Big difference.”
Ethan’s shoulders stayed hunched, but he nodded slightly. “If you say so.”
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“Let’s get you set up for the night, Thomas said, steering him toward the car. “Tomorrow’s soon enough for the heavy talks.”
Back at Irene’s, the party wound down like a tired music box. Brandon yawned dramatically, stretching until his back popped.
“Some birthday, sis,” he said, wheeling toward the hall. “Next year, we’re hiring security.”
Wesley followed silently, offering only a quick shoulder squeeze–practically a Broadway production of emotion from him.
Katherine hugged Irene fiercely. “Call me about Ethan,” she whispered. “I know people who can help with family
crap.
Matthew hovered awkwardly, clearly wanting to say something profound before ultimately leaving with just a nod.
Joseph herded the triplets outside for a last game, their excited voices fading into the evening air.
Soon, only Irene and Adam remained, surrounded by deflating balloons and half–eaten cake.
Adam watched her in the fading light, noting how she seemed both relieved and drained. “He’ll be alright,” he said quietly. “Thomas is good at what he does.”
Irene turned, meeting his gaze with the first genuine smile she’d managed since Ethan bolted. “Thanks.” The word hung between them, heavy with meaning beyond the obvious.
After a comfortable silence, Adam glanced at his watch. “Don’t forget,” he reminded her, his voice softening. “Treatment time tonight.”
Irene nodded, something shifting in her expression as reality settled back in. Some routines remained constant–a sturdy bridge over troubled waters.
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