His Best Friend's Baby by Molly O'Keefe Page A

that little space against her chest that had been made for him.
    She had to get her act together. She had to make a life for her son. She couldn’t expect other people to help her with this anymore.
    “No more,” she whispered.
    What are you gonna do? Mitch’s voice asked and she could practically see his sneer, the snide superiority in his eyes that had made her feel two inches tall for most of her married life. Live off my folks? Sleep with my best friend? You heard him, he’s sorry for that morning. It was a mistake—
    “No more!” she said, louder this time to shut up the voices in her head. To convince herself that she meant it.
    Things were going to change.
    She was going to get a job. Tomorrow. And she’d only stay with the Adamses as long as was absolutely necessary, until she’d paid off the last of Mitch’s debts and could save some money for a place of her own.
    And she’d stay away from Jesse—just as he’d asked. She’d remove her heart, set it someplace else where she couldn’t feel its pain.
       
    J ESSE DIDN’T SLEEP . He was no fool, he knew the nightmares waited on the other side of consciousness. And frankly, tonight he had no taste for fire and the crash and Mitch’s knowing eyes.
    He sat on the porch for a good long time, his eyes open and the image of Julia—sitting so close…right there…within arm’s reach—burned into his retinas.
    He leaned his head against the old rocker he’d made in high-school shop class and imagined standing up on two good legs, walking down the street, jumping the ditch, crossing the yards. He imagined circling the Adams’ house and climbing the rainspout up to the roof of the kitchen. From there he could walk up to Mitch’s second-floor bedroomwindow. It was easy. He’d done it a thousand times.
    It would be so simple to open that window, to ease into that dark hushed room, warm and alive with the scent of Julia, sleeping on that old bed. There’d be moonlight and silence and—
    Jesse stood and the rocking chair slid backward, crashing into the house.
    This has got to stop .
    The world swam from the drugs and he gave himself a moment to get his knee under him before he stalked into the dark house.
    He had been right to tell her to stay away. She had to or he wouldn’t survive. He was moving on with his life, putting the accident and Mitch and this town behind him.
    So he grabbed another bottle of water and headed out the rusty aluminum back door that had not been changed in all of Rachel’s meddling renovations.
    He’d been here two days and one night and so far all he’d been able to get done was write a list of all the things that needed to get done. The roof, the back porch, the kitchen floor—the list was a long one. And he was more tired than he’d thought. His long stay at the hospitalhad worn him down. The weakness was aggravating, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Slowly, each day he felt a little better, a little more as though he could get the work done.
    The only reason he’d needed the painkillers tonight was because he’d spent most of the day on the roof, climbing up and down the ladder.
    His knee was getting stronger and the work helped. He thought of it like conditioning for San Diego and the construction he and Chris were going to do. Preparation for his real life.
    The night was cool, the sky clear and deep, and the air seemed damp. Everything seemed damp after the Middle East, where the desert turned everything into grit. Human beef jerky is what Dave Mancino used to say.
    That’s all I am, walking beef jerky .
    Jesse smiled—Dave had been a funny kid. Cocky as all get-out, but funny. Five months after the accident and Jesse was just now getting to the point that he could remember anything about those boys other than their deaths.
    A million times a day he wished he’d backed Mitch instead of listening to his gut.
    The one time in my life I decide not to do things Mitch’s way and the guy dies .
    Jesse