Treasure [h.s]

| 35 - Killers Don't Knock |

Despite not remembering a single thing that happened on my twenty-fourth birthday, I woke up today feeling like a whole new person.

Maybe it's from the giant curly-headed cartel man cuddling into me after feeding me a painkiller and water.

Or maybe, just maybe, it's because I finally feel like I'm at a place in my life where I feel secure. The people around me are nothing but good to me. Especially the man I love, who's finally opened up to me enough that I don't feel the need to worry over what he could be hiding. He trusts me enough with his secrets, and I trust him enough to relax knowing that he's not going to screw me over in the end.

It's midday already and we've made no move to get out of bed. Instead, we've just been drifting in and out of sleep holding on to each other. He seems like he needs to sleep as badly as I do, and I get the feeling it's not from a hangover like mine.

So that's just what we'll do, cling to each other and sleep off our symptoms until we feel well enough to embark on our next adventure together. I love that he always has something up his sleeve and is always so eager to show me things that are important to him.

I roll over, checking my phone that's charging on my nightstand. I definitely didn't do that, and it makes me wonder how much else I did that I won't be able to recall. Hopefully I didn't do anything with Gracie... we both know how I get around fruity alcohol and that siren club.

I scroll through my notifications, ignoring the sting in my chest at not having any family to wish me a happy birthday.

The feeling is usually worse, but this year it was different. I feel like I have a family this year. Maybe it's a little unconventional and sewn together by a string of misfits, but I can genuinely say that Harry, his friends, and Grace are my family. They made my day something I enjoyed instead of dreaded, and I'll never be able to thank them enough for doing that.

I used to really like my birthday until they stopped being something to celebrate and became a day of grief-filled hate from my parents. I haven't been celebrated like that in... a fucking decade.

Dallie was due the same week I was born, and that overshadowed me the day he never came home. I haven't spent a single birthday being loved since before Dallie.

Until Harry showed me how deserving I am of being celebrated.

I'd do anything for him. He's healing more for me than I could ever imagine, and I hope he knows just how much I love him for it.

"What time is it?" Harry's honey-filled morning voice groans out next to me, no doubt because the sun woke him up.

"Noon," I reply, tossing my phone to the covers and rolling over on my side to face him.

He groans out a disapproving sound, his tired eyes not being able to open just yet. I take the opportunity to scoot closer to him until his head is level with my chest and my fingers are raking through his untamed curls.