“Happy birthday, bro.” Gavin slapped my shoulder as he walked into our parents’ foyer with a shit-eating grin on his face. His wife was in tow, beaming at me and holding a huge gift-wrapped box with a blue bow on the top. Sean, Jessica, and Jordan were already sitting awkwardly with my folks in the living room.

Myla shoved the gift into my hands before hooking her arms around my middle. “Happy birthday, Griff.”

Myla and I were not the closest of in-laws, but she always knew how to light up a room. Her bubbling personality was truly refreshing in the dank melancholy that usually festered in my parents’ home. There was so much bad blood and frustration that dripped from the walls, it had stained the family long ago. Mostly it was because my father was a pretentious asshat that treated my brother like a second-class citizen and resented me for getting sick at such a young age.

Gideon Hayes had grand dreams for his boys, and you would think we were both injecting heroin into our eyeballs from the way he treated us, but we were everything he had ever wanted for us. Gavin had been the captain of the New York Otters hockey team for years, was married to another hockey player’s sister, and had a gorgeous penthouse on the Upper East Side—he was living the fucking dream. I was fighting my way into the big time, winning title after title, but nothing would ever be good enough for the crotchety old man my father had become.

My mother waltzed into the foyer, daintily kissing my cheek. “Happy birthday, baby.” I could smell the gin on her from a mile away.

“Thanks, Ma. What’s for dinner? It smells amazing in here.” We all hung up our coats and followed my folks into the living room where our friends were waiting.

After saying hello to everyone, Gavin and I bee-lined it straight for the wet bar while mom answered my question. “Braised beef tenderloin with a kale salad, roasted beets, and Brussels sprouts with bacon, just the way you like it.” The look of satisfaction on my mother’s face was hysterical—she’d planned Gavin’s favorite meal for my birthday. Fucking perfect.

Gavin tried to stifle his laughter. “That sounds fantastic, Ma! Can’t wait.”

“Helga should have it ready promptly at seven.” She looked down at her watch. “Excuse me, I need to make sure we’re on schedule.”

“I’m going to get some air,” I mumbled to no one in particular.

I started to pace around the back patio. I couldn’t put a finger on exactly how I felt. I wasn’t upset that my mom had messed up and gotten Gavin’s and my food preferences confused; it was an honest mistake. I couldn’t have cared less about Amy and knew I was better off without her. Grabbing my wallet from my back pocket, I pulled out a laminated newspaper clipping and reread the words I had read over and over for the better part of the last ten years.

Michael “Mic” Cooper, 45, passed away in a tragic accident this past Saturday in New York, New York. He was born January 14^th, 1962 to Albert and Virginia Reed Cooper in Jamaica, New York. Mic enjoyed hunting, fishing, and mechanics.

Survivors include his wife, Hilary, and his daughter, Olive “Liv” Cooper, 14, as well as many nieces, nephews, other relatives, and friends.

He was preceded in death by his mother-in-law Judy Waters, his brother, Bobby Cooper, and his sister, Maggie Stewart.

“Hey Griff, are you doing okay?” Myla’s sweet voice came from behind me. She was walking outside with Jordan at her side.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just needed to get a little bit of fresh air.” I really wanted to be left alone, but that was just how Myla was—a little ray of sunshine in the dark cloud of our family. Amidst all the drama, all the bullshit, Myla was the one that really kept us moving forward. I guess I couldn’t really be surprised that she’d followed me outside and Jordan was always one to spring into action when one of the guys was upset or having a rough time. I hastily shoved Mic’s obituary back into my wallet and turned to them, trying to hide the fact that I had gotten choked up reading the short article.

“Something’s bothering you, Griffin. I can tell. I can always tell.” Myla put her hands on her hips, smiling sweetly at me. “Why don't you ever just talk to us?”

I sighed, leaning against the metal fencing around the marble patio. “I just don't know how to not take my life for granted,” I confessed. The crap Gavin had said the night before had really started to sink in, and it had gotten me thinking. I hated to admit it, but my brother was right—I needed to find more substance in my life.

Taking a seat in one of the patio chairs, Myla patted the one next to her. “Come on, let’s talk this out.”

I reluctantly slunk down into the empty seat, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

“You know you can talk to us about anything.” Jordan added, taking the seat across from me at the table. Jordan had been around for all of the crap with my surgery when I was younger—watched the damage it had done to my family. She was always to there to lend a sympathetic ear when I really needed one.

“What is actually on your mind, the real weight? Not the having no friends thing, not the being dumped thing. There’s something bigger than that.” Myla was going for the big guns right off the bat.

“Gavin told you about last night, didn’t he?” I cocked my head to the side as Myla bit her lip.

“He is my husband, but I thought that maybe since you’d had some time to think about it, there could be more to the story.”

I took a deep breath in before bluntly stating, “A man died for me to live, and what do I have to show for his sacrifice?”

Myla’s brow furrowed as her lips parted a bit, and it took her a few seconds to respond. “That man died and donated his organs so that his death wouldn’t be in vain.”

Jordan jumped right in to add, “Remember, Griff, you’re probably not the only one that lives because that man passed away from an accident you had nothing to do with and no control over. It’s not like you were there at his jobsite and ran him over. That’s someone else’s burden. Think about it, since he was an organ donor, his lungs could have gone to someone, and same thing with his liver, kidneys, and perhaps even his skin. Think about it.” Jordan leaned across the metal table to put her hand on my arm and I let my gaze wander up to her kind, round eyes. “Just take peace in knowing that he was most likely able to help so many people.”

Myla went on further, “He’s probably smiling down at you, so proud of the life you lead because of his generosity. Do you know how incredible you are? Please don't forget how many titles you’ve won, how many charities you’ve been able to support, how much work you’ve done raising money for all that medical research! Think about it—you’re doing amazing things with your second chance. Everything that anyone ever could hope for, you’ve done it!”

“It doesn’t feel good enough,” I whisper, clearing my throat. “It doesn’t feel like I’m doing enough. There’s something I need to do.” Right as the words left my lips, it clicked. “His daughter was left behind. A young girl lost her father that day because of me.”

Myla started shaking her head. “Not because of you. You did not cause that accident. You didn’t make that forklift driver fuck up. You did not make him forget to wear his protective gear. That’s not your fault.”

I threw my hands onto the table. “The stars sure damn well aligned for it to feel like my fucking fault.”

Jordan’s face got stern as she reminded me once again of the facts, like she had done countless times when I was younger. “Griffin, you were sixteen. You had an infection that destroyed your heart. How could that possibly be your fault?”

That fight had played in my head over and over again ever since it happened. “I should have been faster. I should have anticipated where he was going next, staying two steps ahead like I was taught.” Tears started to well up in my eyes.

“You need to let yourself off the hook. No one wants a badass boxer with an oh-poor-me attitude.” Myla winked at me as her lips perked up a bit.

“Maybe I need closure?” It came out as a question, but it should have been a statement. I needed closure—it was a fact of my life that I had been searching for for ten years, and I was finally admitting it to myself.

“So, fucking get it.” Myla crossed her arms over her chest as she tapped her foot. “Go meet his daughter.”

“That’s a fucking fantastic idea.” Jordan slapped the table as a small smirk played on her lips.

I rubbed my hand frantically over my face. “That is so much easier said than done.”

“How? You know her name and where they lived when the accident happened. It can’t be that hard. If you need this bad enough, you’ll find a way.” Myla really did have a point.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I glanced up at my sister-in-law as a look of satisfaction settled in.

“Now, how about we go in and have an awkward-as-hell dinner like always?” Myla grabbed a bottle of water and took a swig. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take all the pressure off of you in about two minutes.”

“Thanks for everything, you two.” I hooked one arm around each of their necks as we walked into the dining room where the rest of my family was already sitting.

“Nice of you to join us.” Gavin teased his wife dramatically as we all took our seats.

“Oh hush.” She rolled her eyes.

“Myla, your brother and his family couldn’t attend this evening?” Mom asked sternly. She was trying to make conversation but her disapproval of Myla and her brother was palpable. It all stemmed from way back in the day when our father was teammates with Reggie Cox—Myla’s old man. It was a stupid blood feud at this point—one that my folks were to only ones that gave two flying fucks about anymore. It was extremely childish in my book.

Gavin glared at his mother as he answered for his wife. “Karla and Brayden have their hands full with their little ones. They felt like it would be too much to have them come.”

“Hopefully, by the next family dinner their children will have learned some manners and their parents won’t be embarrassed to bring them out of the house.” My mother’s nose was so high in the fucking air, I half expected her to have a nosebleed at any second.

“Mom, drop it.” I growled.

Sean and Jessica started to drum up a little bit of small talk with my mom about their decision to not have a wedding.

“It just seems to me that you deprived your loved ones of celebrating your new life together.”

I was about to lose my shit on my mom, her comments were getting out of hand on so many levels. Right as I was about to combust, Myla shot a quick wink from across the table and grabbed Gavin’s hand. “Well, there’s no sense in waiting any longer,” Myla started, but Gavin cut her off.

“Are you sure this is the right time? It’s Griffin’s birthday.”

I leaned back in my chair, grabbing the full wine glass in front of me. “Oh, please don’t hold back on my account.”

Myla bounced in her seat as she smirked at me. “See!”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“Dammit, just get it out,” Dad grunted from the head of the table. They were the first words he’d graced us with all night.

“We’re going to have a baby!” Gavin yelled, and my mother gasped next to me.

Jordan squealed. “I fucking knew it!”

Flying to her feet, my mom chortled. “It’s about time someone gave me a grandbaby.”

Even my father was smiling. “Holy shit, Gavin…a father.”

“Thanks Pop.” Gavin shoved up from the table to hug Mom as she cried all of the happy tears.

“Congrats guys.” I raised my glass to them.

Myla’s grin was larger than her face. “See, I told you I would take the attention away from you,” she said under her breath, leaning over the table.

“Thank you,” I mouthed to her before taking a bite of Brussels sprouts.