S is for Secret Baby

by Annie J. Rose

  “Let’s go home,” Wes said quietly, putting the keys in the ignition.

  “Yes,” I agreed, “let’s go home.” It had been surprisingly easy to find a home in a townhouse in Nebraska. The place already felt more like home, after just a year there, than my place in New York ever had. But then again, anywhere would be home with Wes and Ronny by my side.

  The End

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  Dating My Best Friend (Preview)

  Chapter 1

  Khloe - Twelve Years Ago

  “I got it, I got it, I got it.”

  “Yeah!”

  “Shit.”

  The coach blew his whistle. “Language, Benson.”

  I raised my hand. “Sorry, Coach.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Be better. All right, reset, and start again. Go!”

  I jumped up and let the volleyball hit the pad of my forearm. All of us scrambled around the court, our tennis shoes squeaking and echoing off the walls. High school volleyball was competitive. I never came out of a game without a bruise or three on my body. I enjoyed the soreness, though. The aching of my muscles. The sports massages I knew my mother paid out of her ears to get me. I wanted to play in college in a school on the West Coast. That’s where my heart was—volleyball and computer science.

  Cal Tech was where I wanted to be.

  The coach’s whistle pierced the air, and we all stopped. I caught the ball and dropped back down to my feet, feeling my knees weakening. I was exhausted. Practices had been brutal to shake off the summer’s laziness. But this was my senior year. I was freshly eighteen and ready to take on life. As I tucked the ball underneath my arm, I turned to see what was up.

  Then, my mother’s face came into view.

  She and my coach were talking, but I didn’t know what she was saying. It didn’t look good, though, based on her expression. I tossed the ball to one of my teammates and jogged over, trying to figure out what they were talking about. The look on her face wasn’t good—her brow furrowed deeper with every word, and the heat of her cheeks flushed all the way down her neck. She clutched the straps of her purse until her hand turned white.

  “Mom? What’s up?” I asked.

  “Sweetheart, grab your bag. We have to go,” she said.

  Noting the tone of her voice, I darted into the locker room without question. I didn’t look to my coach for approval. I didn’t question what she said. My heart thundered in my chest as my shoes pounded the waxed floor. I burst through the doors of the locker room as panic filled my veins, my eyes searching for my bags.

  I couldn’t remember where I put my bags.

  “The corner. By the window. I’ll get your practice ball.”

  “Khloe, you got everything?”

  “You good?”

  “Here, your towel. Take it with you. Coach won’t mind.”

  I caught the towel midair as I slung my bag over my shoulder. My teammates helped me track down all of my things as I wiped the sweat off my brow. I tossed the towel around my neck as one of the girls passed my ball to me. After catching it with one hand, I took one last look around the room, then rushed out to Mom.

  I shot a look at the coach, who was chewing on the inside of his cheek. I furrowed my brow as he turned his back to me, his hand gravitating to his face. His neck turned a bright shade of red. The girls gathered around him as Mom took my hand. She practically dragged me out of the gym, and I knew then and there my life wouldn’t ever be the same.

  I just had to figure out why.

  “Mom, what’s going on?” I asked.

  “We’ll talk in the car, honey. Just come on. We have to hurry.”

  But we didn’t talk in the car. Even though I asked her question after question, she didn’t answer any of them. She just kept white-knuckling the steering wheel, speeding through yellow lights, and rolling stop signs as if they were mere suggestions while grinding her teeth together.

  She always did that whenever she was worried.

  “Mom, you’re scaring me,” I said.

  “I don’t mean to. Just sit tight.”

  “You said we’d talk. Why aren’t you answering my questions?”

  “Because I don’t have a lot of answers right now, honey.”

  Tears rushed to my eyes. “What does that mean?”

  She shook her head, and I watched her own eyes fill with tears. But when we pulled into the hospital, my thundering heart stopped in my chest. Why were we here? Why were we parking? She motioned for me to get out, and I dropped everything at my feet. I scrambled out of the car, slamming the door behind me. Mom reached for my hand, and I jogged beside her, eventually pulling her through the hospital doors.

  “Your father’s already here with Quinn. Jasper’s been waiting for you. Come on, we have to hurry.”

  “Mom, tell me what’s going on,” I said.

  I ripped my hand from her, and we stopped in the middle of the hallway.

  “Honey, we have to get to the waiting room.”

  “Answer my question, Mom. Now. Why are we at the hospital? Why is Jasper here?” I asked.

  She sighed. “There’s been an accident.”

  Her words stopped me in my tracks. If Dad and Quinn were here, then it wasn’t our family. Which meant…

  “Come on. We have to go,” I said.

  I ran past my mother and left her in my dust. I blazed a trail down the hallway, slamming through doors and following the signs to the emergency waiting room. I came to a grinding halt when I saw them sitting there—Dad, with tears in his eyes, holding Quinn, who was openly sobbing. But as Mom jogged up behind me, trying to catch her breath, my eyes fell to Jasper. My best friend. My confidant.

  Looking like an empty carcass.

  “Oh, no,” I whispered.

  I slowly walked over and sat down in the empty seat next to Jasper, and he slowly moved his gaze to meet mine. His dead stare ingrained itself into my memory. I knew I’d never forget it. Not in a million years. And as tears slipped from his eyes, I felt mine fall in return.

  “Hey, Jay,” I whispered.

  His face wrinkled up, and his head fell against my shoulder. I buried my face into his thick head of hair as I wrapped my arms around him. Tears fell against his scalp. I pulled him as close as I could get him, and as Mom sat down on the other side of Quinn, I rocked us side to side.

  “It’s okay. I’m here,” I whispered.

  I didn’t dare bombard him with questions. Not now. I knew it was worse than I could have ever imagined. I knew something terrible had happened. Something life-altering.

  Where were Jasper’s parents?

  I looked around the room, searching for answers. I held the boy I loved as I tried desperately to figure out how to fix this. Jasper was everything to me. My best friend. My neighbor from up the road. I confided in him about every little thing. Late-night phone calls were our specialty, and Saturdays were reserved for movie marathons at his place.

  “Where are your parents, Jay?” I whispered.

  “There’s—there’s been a-a-a-a—a wreck.”

  He stuttered out the words just as a nurse approached us. My eyes slowly scaled her body, and she seemed monumental in proportion to us. She squatted down and placed her knee against Jasper’s. He lifted his head from my shoulder and wiped the tears from his eyes. He took my hand, our fingers threaded together. And as I held the hand of the boy I loved, I watched his soul break behind his eyes at the nurse’s voice.

  “I’m so sorry, Jasper. But there isn’t anything we could do.”

  The piercing wail that left his lips shattered my heart. My face wrinkled up as he bent forward in his chair. His face turned red with his unearthly sound as he unleashed all of the pain of his heart through his mouth. Mom got up and tried to comfort him. Dad took his other hand. Quinn start
ed crying harder as I got to my feet, scooting between his body and the nurse. I felt like I needed to shield him.

  “Up. Come on. Get up, Jay.”

  I wrapped my arms around his body. I held him close as his dead weight seated against me. With my legs wobbling from practice, I dug down deep into the pit of my body, deep into the marrow of my bones. I pulled forth a strength I didn’t know I had within me, and as my best friend yelled against my shoulder, I cried against his.

  “No, please. Wake me up, Khloe.”

  I wanted to sell my soul to Satan. I wanted to give up my place in heaven to bring his parents back. As he clung to me, soaking my practice jersey, I drew in shallow breaths. Dad rubbed his back. Mom kept kissing the side of his head. Quinn wrapped her little arms around Jay’s waist, and I pressed myself as close to his quaking body as I could.

  “I’m right here. I’ve got you, Jay. I’ve got you.”

  I felt helpless and pathetic. When I felt someone’s hand come down against my shoulder. I shrugged them off. I felt the hand again. And again. And when I felt it for the third time, I craned my neck back.

  “Cut it out,” I hissed.

  “Honey, it’s the doctor. Let Jay speak to the doctor,” Mom said.

  Mom held me back as the doctor pulled him off to the side. Dad took my hand, keeping me from pulling away from Mom. I couldn’t hear much, but I heard enough. Neither of Jay’s parents made it out of that crash.

  I saw the doctor motion for someone, and a staunch, paunchy man wearing a police uniform got up. I strained against my parents’ arms as my little sister kept crying.

  The doctor looked up and motioned for me. With what strength I had left, I pulled away from my parents. I rushed to Jay and wrapped my arms around him, feeling his wingspan descend around me. I placed my head against his shoulder and felt him settle his cheek on top of my head. And as silent tears streaked my cheeks, I listened to the police officer walk us through what was next.

  “What happens to me, sir?” Jay asked.

  “Well, you’re not quite eighteen yet, son. So, we have to find your next of kin. That’s the first step,” the officer said.

  “What, like, grandparents?”

  “Yes. Do you have any grandparents around here?”

  I shook my head. “They died when he was pretty young.”

  Jay nodded. “Yeah.”

  The officer sighed. “All right. Any aunts? Uncles? Older cousins around here?”

  “I mean, not around here. But—”

  “Where do they live?”

  I furrowed my brow. “Why does that matter?”

  The officer licked his lips. “Because until he turns eighteen, he has to be in the presence of a legal adult. A legal guardian. So, wherever his closest relative is—”

  “That’s where I’m moving,” Jay finished.

  My head snapped up. “No.”

  “He doesn’t have a choice. It’s the law.”

  I looked up at him. “This is not okay. Your aunt lives in Vegas. All the way in Vegas, Jay.”

  The officer sighed. “Do you have anyone that lives any closer than that?”

  When Jay slowly shook his head, I knew this night was about to get infinitely worse.

  Chapter 2

  Jasper

  Khloe was silent as we packed up my things, which wasn’t like her at all. But I couldn’t blame her for being upset. I kept stealing glances at her, taking in her auburn hair and her sad brown eyes.

  This past week had been hard on all of us. The Bensons had kindly taken me in while the police attempted to track down my aunt, an old woman I’d only met twice that lived all the way in Las Vegas. She was odd. Eccentric. That much I remembered about her. She was my father’s estranged sister, and why the two of them didn’t talk, I didn’t have a clue. The police had such a hard time tracking her down because she’d apparently been in the Bahamas for the past two weeks, participating in relief efforts from hurricane season, of all things.

  At least she’s generous.

  “Are you okay?”

  Khloe’s voice pierced my thoughts, and I slowly stood up. I gazed around my bedroom, looking at all the pictures on the wall. The pictures on my night table that I had to place facedown because I couldn’t bear to look at my parents’ faces. My lower lip quivered. I had cried so much this past week, I thought I might drown. Surely, death was sweeter than this pain and emptiness I felt.

  “Uh, no, Khlo. really not okay.”

  I felt her arms wrap around my waist, but I pulled away from her. Her touch hurt too much. After losing my parents in some heinous accident, I’d lose her too. Khloe. The girl I loved. The girl who always teased me about being just a few months older. The girl I always called at midnight just to see what she was up to. The girl I spent every Saturday with ever since we were in middle school together, fighting off bullies who teased her over her glasses. I’d coaxed her through the pain in her mouth whenever she got her braces tightened and cried with her when she lost her pet gerbil at the hands of her little sister who let it out the back door of their home to play.

  I was losing everything that mattered most to me.

  And I certainly wasn’t okay with it.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  I shook my head. “Not your fault.”

  “Are you packing up everything, or…?”

  “I mean, take what you want if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking. I just don’t know if you’re leaving anything behind.”

  The bite of her voice made me sigh. We’d been fighting a lot this past week. And the two of us never fought. We discussed, sure. Argued, maybe. But fighting? No, we never did that. It hurt me to argue with her, too. I knew she was trying to help. I knew she was trying to make the best of our limited time together. But I wasn’t in the mood for movie marathons and late-night discussions and talks on the back porch.

  All I wanted to do was rewind time.

  I blinked back my tears and walked over to my closet. I kept my back to Khloe, hoping that I would finally wake up from this nightmare. But the more I folded up my clothes, the more it sank in.

  My parents were dead.

  I was leaving for Las Vegas tomorrow.

  And I’d never see Khloe again.

  Over the past few days, I’d wanted to tell her. I’d wanted to pour my heart out to her and tell her about the exact moment when I fell in love with her. I wanted to take her in my arms, kiss her for the first time, and tell her that I’d be coming back for her. That way, when I graduated from whatever school I’d be going to in Vegas, I’d come all the way back to Connecticut to get her, no matter what it took. Hearing her sniffle broke my heart. I stole glances over my shoulder at her and saw her shoulders shaking.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just—”

  She shook her head. “No, no. It’s okay.”

  “Khlo, you don’t have t—”

  “I’ll start packing up your bathroom.”

  “Khlo, stop.”

  She paused her movements, but she didn’t turn around.

  “Look at me,” I said.

  When she didn’t move, I walked over to her.

  I set my hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face me. Her gaze sat heavily against my chest, and I crooked my finger underneath her chin. Her eyes met mine, and I gazed into those beautiful brown orbs. When those green flakes in her eyes came to life, it reminded me of Christmas, my favorite time of year.

  The Christmas we wouldn’t spend together this year.

  I love you. Say it.

  No. That would hurt her more.

  Then, kiss her. Leave her with something.

  And then what? Tell her to wait for me?

  You have to do something.

  “Jay?” she asked softly.

  I gripped her chin. “You’re my best friend. And no matter where I go, that will never change. Okay?”

  She blinked. “Okay.”

  “When I ge
t to my aunt’s place, the first thing I’m doing is calling.”

  Tears rushed to her eyes. “Okay.”

  “And we’ll still do our late-night calls. And watch movies together over the phone. Okay?”

  She paused, almost as if she didn’t believe me, and that broke my heart.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Come here,” I murmured.

  I wrapped Khloe up in my arms and sighed. I felt her crying against my chest, and I did my best to be strong for her. The funeral had been yesterday, and things had been hard on all of us. The reception felt empty. The laughter felt stale. Even remembering my parents with stories felt trite and contrived. Nothing felt the same. Nothing felt good anymore. And as Khloe collapsed in my arms, I dragged her over to the bed.

  “Come on. It’s okay. I promise,” I whispered.

  She curled against me, and I cursed myself. I cursed how good it felt. I cursed my want to stay behind with her. Why the fuck did this have to happen now? I mean, I’d be eighteen in January. Couldn’t my aunt just come hang out up here until my birthday? That was only four-ish months. It could be another vacation for her.

  A shadow moving out in the hallway caught my eye. I looked over toward the door and saw Mrs. Benson slowly come into view. She tossed me a sad smile before coming in. She sat down next to me on the bed and pulled her daughter into her lap. Khloe fought her mother, but her mother didn’t give in. When Khloe finally collapsed against her, I got up and turned my back.

  I was jealous of the fact that her parents were still alive.

  It hurt to be in this house. To smell my mother’s perfume and walk by my father’s cigar room. My mother had hated that room. It always clouded up the hallway, she’d said. But over the past couple of days, I had immersed myself in that room, drawing in the smoke-tainted air through my nostrils. I let myself sit in his chair and curl up against his robe. Hell, I even plucked one of his Cubans from the glass container and lit it up myself, coughing and hacking my way through the first five puffs before breaking down and crying.