Page 52 of Good For Me

I make a face. “If Mom and Dad don’t kill me first.”

“Mom and Dad are not going to kill you,” she says, standing and brushing sand off her sundress. “First of all, they aren’t like that.” She holds out her hands and grabs mine, tugging me to my feet. “And even if they were, they’d have to go through me first.”

She starts to walk back towards the parking lot but I grab her before she can take more than a step, wrapping her in a big hug. “Thank you, Rosie.”

She pats my back. “Anytime, little brother.”

* * *

Talkingwith my sister helped to clear my head. I should probably remember that for the next time I’m freaking the hell out—call Rose first. As I drive back to the house, some of the panic has receded, leaving room to feel something else. Regret.

Not just for the pregnancy itself, but for the way I acted today. Running out on Jas the way I did was pretty damn unforgivable and I wouldn’t be surprised if she refuses to see me again. But I have to try to apologize anyhow.

I can think of a couple places Jas might be. There’s the apartment above the bar, but I can’t even get into the stairwell without a key, and I still don’t have her number—another thing I fucked up at our meeting today. There’s Brie, but I have no idea where to find her. So that only leaves one place.

I’d been too shocked to see her last night to put it together, but now it makes sense. She told me her grandpa owned a diner when he was alive. We talked about it the night we spent together—I’d called it her own Ruby’s. And when I’m having a rough time, the first place I usually want to go is my grandmother’s bar. I have a feeling Jas might be the same.

So I pass our house without turning into the driveway and head in the direction of June’s Diner.

Last night, the place had been nearly dead, the way twenty-four-hour diners usually are in the middle of the night. This evening more than half the tables are full and a gentle buzz of conversation and laughter mixes with the sounds of dishes clattering and kitchen staff shouting out orders. When I spot Jas sitting alone at a booth near the windows, I’m not surprised. How many times did I see her working on the books or doing her homework in the middle of her uncle’s crowded, loud bar? I always thought it was something we had in common— this is exactly the kind of atmosphere I need to really think.

And Jas looks deep in thought. She’s not actually reading the mess of books and papers spread in front of her—she’s staring out the window, a pensive expression on her face.

She doesn’t look over until I slide into the booth across from her. Surprise registers on her face, and another stab of guilt hits me. She hadn’t expected me to come back. Hell, she probably already wrote me off completely.

“I’m sorry I ran out,” I say in place of a greeting. “I freaked out, but it was really unfair to react the way I did.”

She just blinks at me for a moment before I see her swallow, and nod slightly.

“I get being shocked. I had my own freak out when I found out.”

I reach across the table to brush her fingers with mine, wishing I could take her hand. Wishing I could pull her entire body into mine, to wrap my arms around her and make her know that this is going to be okay. Even if I’m not at all sure of that myself.

“I’m sorry about that, too,” I tell her. “That you had to find out alone. That I wasn’t around. That I just quit without saying anything to you.”

She shakes her head. “You weren’t required to stay in that job just because we hooked up. You didn’t owe me anything, River.”

It’s funny how I can still feel a throb of pain at her referring to our night together as a hook-up. I push the feeling down and try to concentrate on what comes next.

“I do owe you now, though,” I say. “I want you to know that I plan to stick around, Jas. I’m here. For whatever you need.”

She blinks a few times, her eyes looking suspiciously wet. “You really don’t have to—”

I hold up a hand, scowling. “I do, actually. This is every bit as much my responsibility as it is yours. And even if it wasn’t—Iwantto be there for you.”

The wet sheen in her eyes seems to get thicker. “Why?” she whispers.

I shake my head, forcing a sad smile. “I think we both know I always liked you a lot more than you liked me.”

Her mouth drops open. “That’s not true!”

I shrug, not arguing even though she’s so obviously full of shit. “Regardless, I’m here.” I meet her gaze. “What can I do to help?”

She takes in a deep, somewhat shuddering breath. “This helps,” she says softly. “Just that…you know…you’re here.”

“Well that’s how it’s going to be from now on. Okay?”

She nods several times, and I get the impression she’s trying to get herself together. I wait, not wanting to push her.