Page 58 of Good Boy

“Because she’s…was…family. Molly and I didn’t get together until freshman year of college, but I knew her before that. She’s Brenna’s best friend. They were inseparable in high school, and she was always over at our place.” I blow out a breath. “My whole family loves her.”

“Would they still love her if they knew what she did?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But just because she hurt me didn’t mean I wanted to tar and feather her or cost her a lifelong friendship with Bren. So yeah, I ended it, but she begged me not to tell my family about what she’d done. We told them she had a miscarriage, and then a couple of months later, we ‘broke up’”—I use finger quotes—“and told everyone that our relationship couldn’t survive the emotional trauma. But we were dunzo the day I learned the truth.”

Jess is visibly horrified. “Blake! That’s insane! Why wouldn’t you set your family straight? Now they all view her as some innocent victim who got dumped by her fiancé after she miscarried their baby.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” I counter. “Embarrass her? Make Brenna—her best friend—hate her? I was trying to protect her.”

“She doesn’t deserve that!” Jess screeches. Then she takes a calming breath. “Cheezus, Blake, you’re either a saint or the biggest idiot on the planet.”

I finally crack a smile. “Babe.”

“What?”

“You just said cheezus.”

She looks flustered. “I did not.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Agree to disagree.” She shakes her head at me. “I can’t believe that happened to you. Fake pregnancy? A web of lies? That’s soap opera shit right there, dude.”

“Tell me about it.” I can’t believe I just unloaded all that on her. Then again, Jess is studying to be a nurse. Maybe she doesn’t mind wading into other people’s shitstorms.

We go quiet for a beat. Jess turns the key in my macho mobile.

“You totally said cheezus,” I mutter under my breath.

“Did not,” she scoffs.

“Did so.”

“Did not.” She looks over her shoulder to check for traffic and then pulls out and guns it.

I stop arguing because I’m too busy watching a pretty girl drive my truck. At least one thing went right today. In a pretty blue dress that shows off her curves, Jess Canning handled my nutty family like a champ.

If I was ever gonna trust a woman again, she’d be the top seed of the tournament.

Chapter 18

We Stand on Guard for Thee

Jess

The next two weeks of my life are crazy.

I pass all my anatomy quizzes by never leaving the library except for classes and to sleep. Clinical observation work continues too, and lately we’re visiting a geriatric home. They taught us to take vital signs, so now we even touch the patients sometimes. The cases there can be sad, but not kids-with-cancer sad.

My friend Dyson works with geriatric patients, and when we chatted on the phone, he gave me a tip. “Sing Ella Fitzgerald,” he said.

“What?”

“Learn some Ella tunes, and sing one if the patient isn’t cooperating. Trust me. And your voice doesn’t even suck.”

That wasn’t exactly high praise, but just in case he was onto something, I memorized the lyrics to “They Can’t Take That Away from Me.”

A week later, I called Dyson back to tell him he’s a genius.

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