Where I Belong - Chapter 20: Chapter 20

That evening, the entire family was gathered around the dinner table. The usual chatter filled the room as the boys bantered back and forth. Silas was telling a story about how a teacher had once confused him with Eros, dramatically gesturing with his fork as he recounted the tale.
"You'd think after two years they'd figure it out," Silas said, shaking his head in mock disbelief.
"Maybe if you didn't switch seats on purpose," Eros shot back, his voice dry but amused.
Silas grinned. "It's not my fault they can't tell us apart. Might as well have some fun with it."
Zane, sitting at the head of the table, gave them both a warning look, though his lips twitched in amusement. "Just don't get caught. Again."
"Yeah, yeah," Silas muttered, turning back to his plate.
As the conversation rolled on, I stayed quiet, listening to the easy rhythm of their voices. The lighthearted atmosphere was comforting.
It wasn't until Zane spoke up that the topic shifted. "So, have you two decided where you want to go for dinner on Saturday?"
Silas looked up, grinning. "We're still debating. Somewhere fancy, obviously. You're paying, after all."
Zane arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Don't push your luck, Silas."
"What's happening Saturday?" I asked, my voice quiet but curious.
Silas' grin widened as he leaned toward me. "Our birthday, Liv. We're turning eighteen, and Zane's treating us to dinner."
Eros added, his tone more subdued, "You're coming, of course."
"You're turning eighteen?" I asked, my voice soft as my stomach sank. I hadn't even known their birthday was coming up, let alone that it was such a big one.
"Yeah," Silas said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. "Finally legal adults. Can't wait to see what Zane has planned."
"Don't get any ideas," Zane warned, his tone flat, though the faint twitch of his lips gave away his amusement.
The boys quickly launched into a debate about what they hoped the dinner would include – steak, fancy desserts, and everything in between. I stayed quiet, staring down at my plate. A lump formed in my throat as I pushed my food around with my fork.
All I could think about was how unprepared I was: no gift, no plan, and no money to fix any of it.
After dinner, I hung back in the living room while the others cleared the table and went about their evening routines. I was sitting on the sofa, lost in thought, when Elijah walked in.
He didn't say anything at first, just sat down in the armchair across from me and stretched out, his sharp eyes studying me.
"Alright, Olivia," he said after a moment. "What's going on?"
I blinked at him, startled. "What?"
"You've got that look," he said, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Like you're overthinking something. What's up?"
I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to say it out loud. But Elijah had this way of waiting that made you feel like you might as well just tell him.
"It's about the twins' birthday," I finally admitted, my voice quiet. "I-I didn't even know it was coming up. I don't have anything for them, and I don't have any money to get them a gift."
Elijah raised an eyebrow, looking almost amused. "That's it?"
I frowned. "What do you mean, that's it? They're turning eighteen. I can't just show up empty-handed."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, thumbing through it before holding out a card. "Here. Use this to get them something."
I shook my head quickly. "No. I can't take that."
"Why not?" he asked, his tone casual but curious.
"Because it feels...weird," I said, fumbling for the right words. "I don't want to take your money. It's not right."
Elijah sighed, putting the card back into his wallet. "Alright. But listen, you don't need to worry about this. The twins don't care about presents. They'll be happy you're there. That's enough for them."
"I don't think it's enough," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"It is," he said firmly. "Trust me. Silas loves anything thoughtful – write him a card, and he'll frame it or something. And Eros? He doesn't need anything flashy. He'd honestly just be happy that you're there."
I looked down, letting his words sink in. "You really think so?"
"I know so," Elijah said with a small smirk. "And if you change your mind, the money's still on the table. No pressure."
I managed a faint smile, the tightness in my chest easing slightly. "Thanks, Elijah."
He leaned back, crossing his arms. "That's what I'm here for."
The next morning at breakfast, the twins were in their usual playful mood, Silas teasing Eros about his obsession with his hair while Eros ignored him with practiced ease. Zane sat at the table with his coffee, reading through emails on his phone, while Elijah flipped through the newspaper.
"Do you think Zane's going to make us dress up for dinner?" Silas asked, turning to me.
"Absolutely," Zane said without looking up. "If I'm paying, you're dressing appropriately."
Eros groaned. "Great. Just what I wanted for my birthday – a lecture about table manners."
"You'll survive," Zane replied dryly.
I couldn't help but smile at their dynamic. Despite my lingering nerves about the weekend, there was something comforting about being part of their world.
At lunch, I sat with Mia and Zoe, fiddling with the edge of my notebook while they talked. My mind kept drifting back to the twins' birthday. I hadn't figured out what to do yet, and the thought of showing up empty-handed was making my stomach twist.
"You're being unusually quiet," Mia said, glancing at me over her drink. "What's up?"
"It's Silas and Eros' birthday this weekend. I don't know what to get them," I admitted quietly.
Mia raised her eyebrows. "Their birthday?"
"Yeah," I said, nodding. "They're turning eighteen, and Zane's taking us all out to dinner."
Mia tilted her head thoughtfully. "That's kind of a big deal. You didn't know it was coming up?"
"No," I admitted. "They never talk about stuff like that."
Zoe leaned forward. "So what's the issue? Just get them something simple."
I sighed softly. "It's not that easy. I don't have any money, and I want it to be...I don't know, meaningful. Something that shows I care."
Mia tilted her head. "Well, Silas does seem like the kind of person who'd appreciate something personal. You could make them something instead of buying a gift."
"Like what?" I asked, frowning.
"I don't know," Mia said, tapping her chin. "You're good at drawing, right? You could make them cards or sketch something for them. Silas would probably like that – he seems like the sentimental type."
I raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
She shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Kind of. He acts all carefree, but I think he pays attention to stuff. He'd probably appreciate the effort."
"And what about Eros?" I asked.
Zoe smiled. "Who doesn't like cupcakes? Bake them something. A thoughtful card, a drawing, and some homemade cupcakes? That's a winning combination right there."
Mia nodded, her smile widening. "Exactly. It's simple, but it's heartfelt. You don't need to spend money to show you care. They'll get it, trust me."
"You really think so?" I asked, glancing between the two of them.
"Absolutely," Mia said firmly.
Zoe grinned. "And if they don't, I'll happily take any leftover cupcakes."
I laughed despite myself, feeling a little less anxious. "Okay. I think I'll do that. Thanks, guys."
"Anytime," Mia said, giving me a small smile. "It'll be great, Olivia."
The day before the twins' birthday, I stood in the kitchen, staring at the ingredients spread across the counter. Flour, sugar, eggs –everything I needed to bake cupcakes – sat there like they were mocking me. I'd spent all morning building up the nerve to actually start, but now that I was standing here, I felt completely out of my depth.
I wiped my palms on my jeans and glanced at the clock. Elijah still wasn't home. He'd left for work hours ago, and I hadn't seen him since. I'd been hoping he'd come back early so I could ask for his help, but clearly, that wasn't going to happen.
I bit my lip, reaching for my phone before I could talk myself out of it. I scrolled through my contacts and hovered over Theo's name, my stomach twisting.
Theo wasn't exactly the easiest person to talk to. It wasn't that he was mean – he just had this quiet, serious way about him that made it hard to tell what he was thinking. He didn't talk much unless he had to, and when he did, it was always straight to the point.
I hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen. It felt ridiculous to bother him with something like this. He worked at a gym, not a bakery. He probably had better things to do. But then again, he always seemed capable. Calm. Like he'd know what to do without making it a big deal.
Taking a deep breath, I tapped his name and started typing.
Me: Hey, are you home?
I stared at the message, debating whether to send it, but before I could second-guess myself, my thumb hit the button.
I set my phone down and tried to focus on measuring flour, but the buzz of his reply made me jump.
Theo: Yeah. What's up?
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Me: Do you know how to bake?
I stared at the message for a solid thirty seconds before I hit send, my stomach twisting even more.
His reply came faster than I expected.
Theo: Bake?
My face heated, and I quickly typed back.
Me: Yeah, like...cupcakes? Hypothetically.
There was a pause before his response.
Theo: Hypothetically?
I winced. This was already embarrassing.
Me: Okay, not hypothetically. I'm trying to make some for Silas and Eros's birthday tomorrow, but I don't really know what I'm doing. And Elijah's not home...
I let the message trail off, immediately regretting how awkward it sounded.
Theo's reply came almost instantly this time.
Theo: You need help?
I hesitated. Was it weird to ask him? He probably didn't even like baking.
Me: Only if you're not busy. It's fine if you are, though. I can probably figure it out.
Theo: I'm not busy. I'll be there in ten.
I exhaled, my shoulders relaxing as I put my phone down. At least I wasn't doing this alone.
Theo showed up exactly ten minutes later, wearing a plain black t-shirt and gym shorts. He still smelled faintly like whatever cologne he always wore – something sharp but not overwhelming – and I tried not to feel self-conscious about how out of place I probably looked standing there surrounded by baking supplies.
He glanced at the ingredients scattered across the counter and then at me. "You haven't started?"
I flushed. "I didn't want to mess them up."
"You won't," he said simply, stepping closer to scan the recipe I'd printed out. "It's just cupcakes. We've got this."
We.
I nodded, swallowing back my nerves as he started sorting through the ingredients.
Theo turned out to be a lot better at baking than I expected – not that I'd ever admit that out loud. He moved through the steps easily, double-checking measurements and showing me how to do things without making me feel silly when I fumbled with the mixer or spilled flour everywhere.
"You need to relax," he said when I nearly dropped the bag of sugar. "It's just cupcakes, not rocket science."
"I know," I muttered, brushing flour off the counter. "I just...wanted them to be good. For the twins."
"They will be," he said, like it wasn't even a question. "And even if they're not, Silas'll still eat them. Eros too."
I smiled a little, some of the tension easing out of my shoulders.
By the time the cupcakes were in the oven, I felt a little more at ease. Theo leaned back against the counter, watching as I wiped down the mess we'd made.
"So why cupcakes?" he asked after a minute.
I shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "I didn't have money to buy them anything, and I wanted it to be personal."
He nodded like that made perfect sense. "It is."
"You think so?"
"I know so," he said, and for some reason, I believed him.
When the cupcakes cooled, Theo stuck around to help with the frosting too. He didn't say much while we worked, but his presence was steady, and he showed me how to pipe the frosting without making a mess.
"You'll probably want to hide these," he said when we were done, nodding at the containers. "If Silas sees them early, they won't make it to tomorrow."
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had all day. "Thank you, Theo."
He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Anytime, Olive," he replied, scuffing up my hair before leaving the kitchen.
After the cupcakes were frosted and decorated, I carefully placed them into small boxes, one by one. Each cupcake sat snugly in its spot, topped with the perfect swirl of frosting. I couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride – they actually looked pretty good. Once the lids were securely in place, I carried the boxes up to my room, moving quietly to avoid drawing attention. The last thing I needed was Silas sniffing them out.
When I reached my room, I slid the boxes onto my desk and looked around for a good hiding spot. After a moment, I grabbed a spare blanket and draped it over the boxes. Not the most foolproof plan, but it would do. I tucked the boxes against the far corner of my desk, out of direct view, and stepped back to survey the hiding spot. Satisfied, I let out a small sigh of relief.
With the cupcakes taken care of, it was time for the next task: the cards. I pulled out my sketchbook, some blank cards, and my markers. Sprawling across my bed, I started with Silas's card.
I tapped my pencil against my chin, thinking about all the ridiculous memories I'd shared with him. One stood out: the countless times he'd dragged me into raiding the snack cupboard. He always called it a "mission," complete with hushed whispers and exaggerated hand signals. I couldn't help but laugh at the thought.
Grinning, I started sketching. I drew Silas and me standing in front of the open cupboard, arms overflowing with snacks. Crumbs scattered everywhere, and I gave Silas his signature mischievous grin. Next to him, I drew myself wide-eyed, clutching a bag of crisps. Beneath the drawing, I wrote in bold letters: "The Snack Attack Club – Founders for Life."
Once the sketch was done, I moved on to the message. I kept it light and funny, scribbling a note about how we'd probably eaten enough snacks to stock a small store, and how it was only fitting that I acknowledge his "skills" on his birthday. It felt very "Silas," and I knew he'd appreciate the humor.
Setting his card aside, I grabbed another blank one and stared at it for a moment. This one was for Eros. I thought back to what he'd said when he apologized after our fight. He'd mentioned that I used to call him Ro when we were little and that I could call him that again whenever I was ready.
For Eros's card, I decided to draw a picture of us when we were little. I didn't really remember much from back then, but I figured this is how it might've looked. Eros was smiling that same cheeky grin, and I drew myself with a mischievous expression too – like we were plotting something we probably shouldn't have been. We were sitting close together, sharing some quiet moment, like we used to. Above my younger self, I wrote "Livy," and for Eros, I wrote "Ro." It felt strange to write it again, but also comforting, like we were reconnecting to a part of our past.
The message inside wasn't easy to put into words, but I finally settled on something simple and honest:
"Happy birthday, Ro. I don't remember much from when we were younger, but I do remember how easy it was to be around you. I hope this year brings you as much laughter as we had back then. Thanks for being one of the people who still knows me better than anyone else."
I smiled at the card, feeling like it was the right thing to say without overthinking it. It wasn't too much, just a quiet acknowledgment of the bond we shared.
I stared down at the cards, feeling a flutter of uncertainty in my chest. The words seemed almost too much, too bold for something I wasn't entirely sure about. But I couldn't help feeling like I needed to add just a little more.
Slowly, I opened both cards again, reading over what I'd already written. My hand hovered over the paper for a moment as I considered. Then, without thinking too much about it, I added a few more words to each one. Something small, but meaningful. Something that felt right, even if it made my heart beat faster.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I closed the cards quickly and tucked them back into my drawer, trying to steady my breath. It was done now. I had to trust that it was enough.