She slams the door, which makes me grab my head, needing to stabilize it.

When did she get mean?

I roll to the side of the bed and lift myself into a sitting position, moaning. God, I did a number on myself yesterday.

And Addie’s gone.

Fuck me.

I shuffle out to the kitchen, still in yesterday’s clothes, and most likely smelling like the booze-filled bar I spent the day in, and almost run into Christina, who’s on her way back to the bedroom with a glass full of water.

“You got mean.”

“It’s noon,” she replies with a roll of her eyes, and leads me to the kitchen. “And your omelet is ready.”

“This omelet is why we’re friends.”

“No, me picking you up last night is why we’re friends.” She smirks and sits at the breakfast table with me, watching as I devour the omelet. “At least you have an appetite.”

“I need something in my stomach. It feels raw.”

“It probably is,” she replies with a soft smile. “Want to talk about it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

She shrugs and looks out the window, which gives us a beautiful view of Mount Hood. “You always have a choice, but I won’t stop badgering you until you talk, so you might as well make it easier on both of us and do it willingly. You broke up with Addie.”

“How do you know that?” My head whips up to stare at her.

“You told me last night.”

“I was so fucking drunk.” I lower my head into my hand.

“Yeah, you gave the whole bar quite a show, lip-synching to Cyndi Lauper, and stripping down to your underwear and all.”

“I’m not wearing underwear,” I mutter, slightly mortified.

“Yuck.” She scrunches up her nose, then laughs. “I’m kidding. It sounds like you were just broody.”

I nod and take the last bite of the omelet.

“Here.” She hands me four ibuprofen and a tall glass of orange juice.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

“I’m practicing.” She grins and rubs her belly.

I stop cold and stare at her. “For what?”

“For having a baby.” Her eyes well up. “It worked. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my God, C!” I pull her into my arms and hug her close. “I’m so fucking happy for you. When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.” She pulls away and smiles happily. “I would have told you last night, but I was hauling your drunk ass around.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“You didn’t see yourself last night. You’re lucky you made it to the grass to throw up.”

“Oh God. I’m sorry.”

She shrugs and takes a sip of my juice. “So tell me why you broke it off with the best thing that ever happened to you.”

I stare at my empty plate, and all the grief from the past twenty-four hours comes crashing back down on me. “Because I’m not right for her.”

“Why do you think that? Seemed to me that you guys were great together.”

“We weren’t going to work out for the long haul.”

“So, you’re just not interested?” She nods. “It happens. I mean, she seems nice enough, and God knows she’s beautiful, but that’s only skin deep. Maybe’s she’s not as great as she led me to believe.”

“She’s amazing,” I whisper. “She’s better than you know.”

Chris is quiet, watching me, and finally takes my hand in hers, holding on tight. I need this, this connection with her.

“Then why aren’t you with her, J?”

“The other day, after she and I had an argument and she stormed off, frustrated with me, I drove up on an accident on the freeway. Same car as Addie’s.”

Christina’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I thought for sure it was her. I thought that she’d been angry, and she got into an accident, and that she’d been hurt. God, C, for about an hour there, when I didn’t know for sure if it was her, I thought that I’d killed her.”

“What are you talking about?”

I shake my head, staring at our linked hands. “I can’t continue a relationship with her. Yes, she’s the best thing that ever happened to me, but don’t you get it? I’ll only fuck up her life.”

She’s scowling at me now, shaking her head. “I’m not following you at all, Jake.”

“I hurt people. I disappoint people.” I swallow hard. “I didn’t care for my dad the way I should have the last few years of his life.”

“You were doing exactly what your dad wanted you to be doing, Jake. He was so proud of you, he was bursting with it.”

“How do you know?”

“Who do you think gave him regular updates on you? I spoke to him all the time. Do you know how many times I heard I’m so proud of that boy?” A tear slips down her cheek. “He wanted you to chase after the music, Jake. It would have pissed him off if you’d done anything else.”

“I know,” I whisper. She’s right. He would have. But fuck, how I miss him. I wish I’d been the one to call him regularly, to tell him about my life. “And there’s you.”

“Me?” She raises her brows.

“You.” I shake my head slowly. “I’m so sorry, C.”

“For what? For being a douche bag?”

“For the accident.” I meet her gaze now, surprised to find so much confusion in her pretty eyes. “For you losing your leg. For the horrible things I said to you before you drove off in that car that night. For it taking you so damn long to get pregnant.”