Page 142 of Burn

I understand Jacey’s position, because had that been Caleb, my reaction would have been the same. Regardless of me only knowing him a few months.

“I know, sweetie.” My hand finds hers.

“What am I going to do now that I’m pregnant?” she asks, staring at her cup of untouched green tea. “What would you do?”

“Oh, uh, what do you mean?”

“I’m twenty-seven, live with two assholes, my baby daddy died. Now what? I’m going to raise the kid with these two shit-dicks?” She motions to the floor where Owen’s snoring. “My life is a fucking wreck.”

I suddenly don’t feel so bad about my own life, but I also know I have to say something noteworthy here to make her less stressed out.

Jacey catches on to my apprehension. “Sorry. I just meant . . . never mind.” Her brows are knotted, confused by everything and finding contentment in nothing.

“Losing Evan has been hard enough on you, Jacey. Everyone deals with this differently,” I say, taking her hands from her mug, I wrap them up in my own, attempting to comfort her the way I would want to be comforted. “Move at your own pace and when you’re ready, make a decision but not until you’re ready.”

Jacey smiles, soft but still, she smiled. “I’m thinking of moving out.”

“Why?”

“I need my own place if I’m going to raise a baby. These two are horrible examples.”

We both look down on the floor to see Owen slowly waking up and scratching his balls. “I don’t doubt that.”

Her lips press into a straight line. “Just the thought of moving out makes me sad. These guys are all I have left. I don’t want to leave them either.”

There’s a moment of silence between us and then she sighs, a heavy but jagged breath that catches my attention. My eyes find glossy chocolate brown. It’s easy to see why Evan was attracted to Jacey. Even after everything she’s been through, she’s still breathtakingly beautiful.

“I didn’t cry yesterday, and then when I thought about not crying, it scared me. It made me think I was moving on, and that seemed worse than losing him.” Her tears return, a reminder she hasn’t moved on even the slightest. “Whenever I struggled with anything, he was the perfect balance of perseverance when mine was gone. I know everyone thinks we just hooked up and there was no relationship there, but there was. He knew everything about me.”

I don’t know what to say to her, but “I’m sorry” isn’t what she wants to hear.

“I go back to that night a lot,” she says with all-too-sad eyes, a portrait of a girl who’s given everything to one guy who couldn’t give her the same, and now he’s gone, never able to right the situation for the two of them to be happy.

Now what’s she supposed to do? Live her life again? How is that even possible?

“I think about how numb I felt . . . what the doctors spoke to me . . . the way his burned hand felt in mine, and none of it makes any sense. Some days I want the numbness of the night back because at least then it didn’t hurt as bad. It’s the weeks after that hurt the worse, when everyone else wants to move on and you can’t.”

“I can’t imagine.” My eyes fall to my hands, knowing my words won’t offer much for her.

“Listen, Mila. Caleb is like a brother to me, and I know we spend a lot of time together, but the truth is . . . if it hadn’t been for Caleb being here, I would have stayed in bed even longer every day, smiled less, and probably starved to death . . . and maybe never laughed again, either.” Jacey wipes tears away with her sleeve. “It’s weird to say, but he’s my best friend.”

I take comfort in knowing they have each other at a time like this and that Caleb’s that good of a guy that he can be friends with her even after their past. I only wish he and his brother would have been able to make up before he died.

Jacey takes my face between her hands, her sorrow and grief taking my breath away. “He loves you even if he’s too stupid to say it.”

“I told him I loved him last night,” I tell her. “He said nothing.”

“He doesn’t know how to say it.” She holds my stare, begging me to see. “He’s never told a girl he loved her.”

“Even you?”

She frowns, but it’s not from sadness. “No, he never told me he loved me.”

“He tells me every day,” Owen says, stretching his arms above his head.

Jacey takes her warm cup of tea and dumps it on his crotch. “No one asked you!”

CALEB COMES DOWNSTAIRS around eleven that morning in only a pair of shorts and looks from me, to Jacey, to Owen on the floor still, then back to me.

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