Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(46)

“Okay,” I say with a rising inflection. “It’s clearly past your bedtime, Mother.”

She’s laughing all the way upstairs and into her room.

I finish the last of my homework before going to my own room to brush my teeth and change into sweatpants, a hoodie, and a pair of sneakers.

It’s a bit before midnight—right on time.

I look out my bedroom window to hers, where I can see her brand-new wall color—pink this time—and new furniture configuration. She only changed it up twice this year.

Hallie’s not outside yet, so I grab my warmest blanket before walking to the centerline of the roof between our houses, taking a seat to wait for her. I checked the roof the other night, and it’s only gotten warmer since, so thankfully, there’s currently no snow or ice to stop us.

Yes, Hallie and I sneak out and meet up here quite often, but there’s something about her birthday meetups that are always my favorite. Partly because there are a few winter months that we don’t get to do this. It’s too cold and there’s too much ice on the roof, so we don’t regularly meet up out here until after April. Yet, we’re a little reckless and always risk it for Hallie’s birthday in early March.

I mean, this part of the roof is flat, so it’s not all that risky. We aren’t completely out of our minds. But my other favorite thing about these meetups is that it signifies that soon enough, the sun will begin to melt the snow away for the season and we’ll get to sneak out here whenever we want for the rest of the year until the next winter comes around.

Hallie’s bedroom window slides open. “Have you been waiting long?” she asks as she steps out onto the roof.

“Just got here.”

I lift the other half of my blanket for her to sit beside me. She does, scooting in close, before I cover her with it.

“The moon is so bright tonight,” she says, looking up at it.

She’s right. It’s bright enough I can see the dusting of freckles over her nose and the upturn of her lips as she smiles at the sky.

“How was babysitting?”

“Well . . .” she sighs. “The oldest had a temper tantrum about bedtime and the youngest was teething. But they tipped me extra for working on my birthday, so I guess it was worth it.”

“You’ll have enough saved up for school in no time.”

“Hopefully. It’s expensive, so we’ll see.”

“Do you know where you want to go yet?”

“I’m not sure. Somewhere away from home, though. I’m excited to have the whole college experience one day.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Same here.”

She sits up straighter. “I have two things for you. First.” She places my folded jersey on my lap. “I need to return that to you. Thanks for letting me borrow it, but I need your home jersey for when you play on the road next weekend.”

“I’ll get it to you once it’s out of the laundry.”

Her eyes are glued on my jersey sitting in my lap. “I’ve never asked you why you picked that number in the first place. You’ve been number eighty-three for as long as I’ve known you.”

I chuckle. “Well, I was ten years old when I got to choose my number for the first time, and I didn’t know what to choose, so I picked my favorite day. I thought I was so cool picking my birthday. Eighty-three. August third. It’s stuck ever since. Can’t imagine having a different number now.”

She hums. “Clever.”

“And the second thing you have for me?”

She gives me an unimpressed look because we both know what it is.

Out of the front pocket of her hoodie, well my hoodie that she stole, Hallie pulls out a CD case with a single silver disk inside.

“Hallie Hart,” I begin in disbelief as she hands it to me. “What the heck is this?”

“I know. I know. I hate to admit it, but it was time to switch. Half the songs I needed for this year’s playlist weren’t even on cassette tapes, so I had to burn a CD. And even CDs are becoming hard to find.”

“Wow.” I shake my head, looking at the disk in my hands. “It’s the end of an era.”

The CD is signed the same way all the previous tapes were, with an “H” and the outline of a heart for her last name, followed by the number fifteen. Her heart drawing is the same as it always is, with a little tail extending past where it’s supposed to stop.

Like instinct, I reach out with my forefinger, covering that extra bit. The little imperfection that I find perfect every year I get to see it.

She playfully pushes my hand away and fully covers the signature with her palm. “You always do that. Every year. I know the way I draw hearts is weird.”

I try to move her hand away so I can see it, but she doesn’t budge.

“I don’t think it’s weird, Hal. I think it’s my favorite part.”

Her grip on the CD case loosens and this time, when I move her hand, she lets me. She lets me slip my fingers between hers. She lets me run the pad of my thumb over her knuckle.

I look up to find her already watching me with those sparkly eyes.

“No one else draws their hearts like this, so every time I see one, I know it’s you. That’s why I like them so much.”

Her smile goes soft.