And then he told us her name.

THIRTY TWO

 Logan

 She's been quiet since we left Jake's house. In fact, she's been quiet since Nathan told us her name. I'm not really sure why.

 "You don't know, do you?" she asked, turning down the stereo on the drive home.

 "Know what?"

 "Who she is?"

 I shook my head.

 "It's Megan Strauss..." she trailed off.

 Her saying the name a second time didn't change the fact I had no idea who she was talking about.

 I raised an eyebrow, begging her to elaborate. "As in Mick and Meg? Mikayla and Megan and... James?"

 "No shit!" I exclaimed, clearly shocked.

 "Shit," she deadpanned.

 "Shit..." I responded.

 ***

 "Shit," Jake breathed out. I told him to meet me at the little league field between both our houses. He paced up and down in front me. His fingers linked behind his head. He took off his cap and threw it to the ground, running his hand through his hair. "Shit," he repeated.

 "So," I started. "I mean—it's not going to change anything—between us—right? If I want to get to know her, I mean?"

 He paused mid step and eyed me, as if deciding what to say next. He sat down on the bench beside me and leaned back. I was leaning forward resting my elbows on my knees.

 "It's not that. It's just—it's more complicated. I think maybe—I mean—you might need to speak to Kayla."

 "What do you mean more complicated?"

 "Exactly what I said. You need to speak to Kayla. Come by my place."

 I looked at my watch. "I gotta pick up Amanda soon."

 I felt him lean forward, mirroring my position. "So you and her..." he trailed off.

 "Me and her," I confirmed.

 "We got lucky, huh?"

 "Dude, you have no idea."

 ***

 Amanda fell asleep on the way to Jake's house. She works way too frickin much. I told her I'd pay more rent so she could at least take a night off but she won't let me. Apparently Ethan can't work too long on his feet because of the pins in his leg, so his job prospects are limited. He delivers pizza a few days a week and also has a side business with a few of his boys where they fill kegs with half water half shit beer and sell and deliver to underage kids around the area. He says he's doing the world a favor by not letting fourteen year olds drink. Valid. But still—Assholes.

 I gently nudged her until she woke, "You wanna stay in the car?"

 She shook her head, and sat up straight, pulling down the visor to check her face.

 "You look beautiful," I told her. "You always look beautiful." I outwardly cringed.

 Lame.

 She just smiled, faced me and spoke, "So I know this is going to sound stupid, or whatever, but you and me—us," she paused; a blush crept to her cheeks. She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "We're a thing right? Like—exclusive or whatever. I just don't want to think one thing and you think something else." She was rushing her words now. "Because if it's not, that's fine. But I don't not want to be not that—if that makes sense. I mean—I hope that I'm the only gi—"

 "Amanda," I interrupted her. "Honestly, I'm kind of pissed that you're second guessing what this is. Do you need a written contract? You know how I feel about you, and if you don't, then I obviously need to do more..."

 She shook her head slowly, "No," she sighed, "you don't need to do more—but I know you—and your past—"

 "Is my past," I cut in, "and you—you're my future."

 ***

 Jake pulled three beers out of the fridge and handed one to Micky and one to me. Amanda took my keys from my hand and jerked her head in approval. We took a seat at the dining table. "So," I said, running my palm across my jaw. Amanda placed her hand on my leg under the table. "Uh...you know how I told you about my parents—my birth parents, I mean?"

 Micky nodded with a confused look on her face.

 "Well—it turns out my birth dad had another kid—a girl—uh..."

 "Just tell her," Jake encouraged. "Like a Band-Aid."

 I closed my eyes. "It's Megan. Your friend." It came out as a question.

 Her eyes went huge, and instantly, tears were streaming down her face.

 I looked to Jake. He shook his head and held a finger up to stop me from saying anything. Micky frantically wiped at her face. We all stayed silent.

 "Her dad?" she finally croaked out. "Her dad is the same as your d-d..."

 "Birth dad—yes."

 She let out a breath with whoosh. "How did you—I mean, how long have you—does she—have you spoken—is she okay?"

 Jakes eyes narrowed as his head whipped to face her. "It doesn't matter if she's okay, Kayla."

 Micky held his hand that rested on the table, I saw her squeeze it. "Jake..." she cautioned him.

 What the hell?

 "Have you?" she continued, facing me. "Seen her, I mean."

 I shook my head, but my gaze was fixed on Jake. He had his fist balled and eyes shut tight. His jaw clenched shut from the effort of holding his breath.

 Amanda broke the tension, "Have you seen her since...what? Prom, right?" she asked Micky.

 Micky's eyes drifted shut; a silent sob took over her body. She sniffed once, nodding, but not speaking.

 "Baby," Jake soothed, "you need to tell him."

 So she did.

 She told us all about seeing her at the cemetery on the anniversary of her families death. She told us about the baby she was carrying and the way she looked. And then she told us about what went down the night her family was killed. She cried the entire time. Her body molded to Jakes side as he stared into the distance, not moving, not speaking. It seemed as though she let out years worth of pent up anger, hurt, and sadness. But most of all, it felt like she was relieved. Relieved to get it out and share it with someone.

 And then I understood it. I understood why Jake had acted like he did when Micky asked if she was okay. Because he was right. It didn't matter. It didn't matter to him. But for Micky—it did. And for me, too. I don't know why, but it did.

 "I get that what she did was wrong," Micky stated.

 I hadn't said a word. Amanda held on to my arm tightly, her own tears soaking through my shirt.

 "But I've had almost a year to deal with it, and to think about it—and I don't know," she shrugged, "I can't see her as a murderer. At the end of the day—even if you take away the James factor—there was a reason we were best friends for so long." Her voice was strained from the knot in her throat.