tease and then flaunt all your boyfriends in front of him?”
Yes, she’d teased and joked. But she most certainly had not flirted with Jarrod. “I did not—”
Apparently ready for a fight, he set his hands on his hips and leaned in. “Oh, yes, you did. Holding their hands in front of him, sucking face in front of him, telling him the intimate details of your sex life, breaking his heart over and over again.”
Breaking his heart? “I did not break his heart. We were pals, best friends. We talked about everything.” Although to be honest, usually Krissy had done most of the talking while Jarrod had done most of the listening.
“He didn’t want to be your best friend. At least that’s not all he wanted to be. I never understood how you couldn’t see it? Except that you were always too absorbed in yourself and what was going on in your life to notice much about anyone else.”
Even though that had been true, Krissy told him to, “Go to hell.” She didn’t want to relive those days. She’d moved on. She was a better person now. She was doing the right thing by having Jarrod’s baby, following through with his wishes. But she refused to stand here and listen to one more word out of Spencer’s mouth. She turned to the door.
“All the times you ran to him when you were upset, cried on his shoulder, let him hold you and console you. You gave him just enough to keep him content with the scraps of affection you tossed in his direction, to make him hopeful that maybe someday...”
“Shut up.” Krissy’s chest started to ache.
“He loved you,” Spencer said. “Boyfriend, girlfriend loved you.”
No.
“But you came after me.” His words dripped with resentment. “Kissed me on some whim, without a care who saw you, without a care for my friendship with Jarrod or how much it would hurt him if he found out.”
“What’s the matter, Krissy?” Spencer had said to her that night. “Getting desperate? Every other guy at the party turned you down?” Like she was a common slut, like she’d only gone after him because no one else would have her. He had no idea how long it’d taken her to finally act on her feelings for him. If anyone had gotten hurt that night it’d been her.
Krissy turned back around to face him. “Jarrod and I were friends. Best friends. That’s all.”
“He wanted more.” Spencer stared her down. “Why do you think he kissed you?”
An innocent peck on the lips, in the tenth grade, beneath the bleachers at a basketball game. “He said he liked me better than any other girl at school and he just wanted to see...” But there’d been nothing. No tingle. No spark. No desire to take the kiss deeper, for either of them...or so she’d thought...so he’d led her to believe. Why?
“Did you have to laugh afterward?” Spencer asked, doing nothing to hide his contempt, as he walked back to the kitchen, folded Jarrod’s letter and stuffed it back in the envelope.
The whole kiss thing had made her feel weird and out of sorts. So yeah, she’d laughed. A nervous kind of laugh, because she didn’t know what else to do, the two them standing there, alone... “He told you about that?”
Spencer nodded. Then he shrugged. “You confided in him and he confided in me. After you went off with your friends, like nothing had happened, he sent me a text.” Spencer looked down at his feet. “I found him crying in the third floor bathroom.”
“You told me he went home because he wasn’t feeling well.”
“He wasn’t feeling well. He was heartbroken. He’d finally kissed the girl he’d secretly loved for years and she’d laughed in his face.”
Krissy’s stomach churned.
Spencer folded the envelope and slid it into his back pocket, casual as can be, while Krissy felt like the very foundation of her life was crumbling beneath her feet.
“The next day, after he’d calmed down he decided he could be patient.” Spencer’s eyes met hers. “That you were worth the wait. That eventually he’d win you over, but you didn’t make it easy on him, did you?”
Had she really hurt her best friend again and again? God help her. All the things she’d confided in him. Vomit started to creep up to the back of her throat. “I had no idea.” Absolutely no idea at all or she never would have—
“Why do you think he went into the army?” Spencer looked at her with such anger, such...hatred. “To impress you.”
No! “Don’t you dare belittle his decision,” she jabbed her index finger in Spencer’s direction, “his commitment and dedication or how hard he’d worked to get into shape. He enlisted because he wanted to serve his country.”
“He enlisted to impress you.” Spencer shook his head. “There was no talking him out of it, believe me, I tried. After hearing you gush about that Martinez kid who’d joined the marines, Jarrod got it into his head that he’d join the military, too. So you’d gush about him. He’d planned to come home a war hero so you’d finally see him as a man.”
What? “Are you saying...?” The ache in her chest worsened. The floor seemed to undulate beneath her feet. Krissy grabbed on to the wall for stability. “He joined the military because of me?” A sharp pain stabbed at the right side of her belly. “Ow.” She rubbed the area, tears forming in her eyes. It couldn’t be. “That he’s dead...” Her whole abdomen tightened uncomfortably. “He’s dead...” She couldn’t breathe. “...because of me?”
Fluid gushed between her legs. “No.” She clamped them closed.
“What’s wrong?” Spencer ran toward her. He looked down. Then he ran back to the kitchen, grabbed a chair and ran back. “Sit.”
She wanted to yell, “I am not a dog,” because Spencer brought out the fight in her. But if she didn’t sit right then there was a good chance she’d collapse to the floor. “I can’t have this baby. Not yet.” She rubbed her belly, wasn’t ready. “It’s too soon.” The baby kicked. At least that was a good sign.
Krissy could hear Spencer talking but she paid no attention to what he was saying, thoughts of Jarrod swirling in her head. He’d gone into the army because of her. He’d been killed because of her. I’m sorry. So sorry.
Spencer knelt down beside her. “How far along are you?”
“I’m due in five weeks.” He repeated what she’d told him into his cell phone. “Who are you talking to?”
“An ambulance is on the way.”
UPON THEIR ARRIVAL at the hospital, the ambulance crew whisked them right up to the Labor and Delivery floor where Spencer stood by helplessly—something he was not used to and did not like one bit—while the doctor examined Krissy and the nurse hooked her up to a fetal monitor. Forty-five minutes later, they were alone, Spencer sitting in a guest chair, holding on to a black and white sonogram picture. Krissy in a hospital gown, lying on her side in the bed, facing away from him. The sound of
