The patio door slides open and Mom comes out with a tray of leftovers. We dig in. Dad brings a cooler and places it near the fire pit.

   “Someone needs to be a designated driver—and don’t tell your parents. In fact, I didn’t even give it to you. I merely placed it in a position that you were able to get to. My story will hold up in the eyes of the law.”

   Logan opens the cooler. It’s filled with beer. “Thanks, Mr. Andrews. You’re so my fave person over thirty-five.”

   My dad chuckles to himself. “And you, Logan, are still an asshole,” he says, sliding the door closed behind him.

   “Burn!” Cam says, laughing.

   “So.” I nudge Kayla, who’s sitting next to me. She stands up to get a napkin full of little things from the tray of food. She saunters back and sits on my lap, leaving her chair empty. I smile to myself. Logan eyes me curiously. I don’t care.

   “So?” she replies.

   “Your dad was a Little League coach?” Everyone is listening in on our conversation.

   “Yep—one of the best,” she says proudly.

   “So that’s why you can hit the shit out of a baseball?”

   “Yep. I gave it up when I got boobs.” She shrugs.

   I laugh. My eyes move to her boobs before I quickly force myself to look away.

   “Actually, he was a huge baseball fan—and a fan of yours, too.”

   “What? How?” I ask, because it doesn’t make sense.

   “Mm-hm,” she says, picking up a piece of food and putting it in my mouth. It’s hot as fuck that she’s feeding me while sitting on me. It takes everything in me not to devour her mouth.

   “I actually knew of you before I knew you.” She pauses, chewing her food. “Dad mentioned you before, so I knew your name but not what you looked like. When I heard your full name, it sounded familiar, but I didn’t connect the dots until your mom told me that you were kind of a ‘big deal.’ Dad actually went to watch your high school games a few times. He said he wanted to watch ‘history in the making.’ He begged me to go a couple of times, but I was always busy with . . . you know . . .” She trails off. James.

   “You shouldn’t tell him stuff like that, Micky. His head is big enough as it is,” Logan says, throwing a bit of food at me.

   “Yeah,” Heidi agrees. “Baseball and Casey are enough to make his head explode.”

SEVENTEEN

MIKAYLA

   I watch Jake stiffen. His expression falls again at the mention of her name. I try to stifle my laugh, but it comes out anyway.

   “Okay, someone has to tell me what the deal is with her. Please?” I plead.

   Jake starts to talk. I cover his mouth with my hand, and he continues to mumble into it.

   “She’s a crazy stalker bitch,” Lucy offers, taking a sip of water. I guess she’s the DD tonight.

   “Like, how crazy are we talking here? Writing Mrs.-Casey-Andrews-all-over-her-books crazy, or Mrs.-Heidi-Bieber crazy?” I ask. They laugh, and I see Dylan’s jaw tense.

   Cam takes a huge swig of beer. “Like, hiding-in-the-back-of-his-truck-after-a-game-naked crazy!”

   My eyes widen and snap to Jake. He looks down and shakes his head, laughter in his eyes. He removes my hand that was covering his mouth, entwines our fingers, and gives my wrist a chaste kiss.

   Logan continues. “That’s not all that happened. Tell her the rest, Jake.”

   I look at him. Oh my God—he slept with her!

   “Oh my God, you slept with her?” I gasp.

   “No!” he yells, and everyone cracks up. “No. What? God . . . No!” he says again, shivering and making a disgusted face.

   “Then what?” I ask.

   He presses his lips together, refusing to speak. I make an exasperated sound and turn to the rest of them, my eyes pleading for someone to finish the story. Heidi starts to giggle, and everyone joins in.

   “What? What happened?” I need to know.

   Heidi calms herself down. “Homegirl proposed to him!” She’s struggling to keep talking through her laughter. “She left an engagement ring out on the dashboard of his truck and proposed to him, naked, in the backseat—with people all around!”

   “No!” I gasp, bewilderment clear in my voice. I look at Jake. He nods slowly. His arm is wrapped around my waist, and he strokes my stomach with his thumb.

   “What did you do?” I ask him, but he just shakes his head. I look at everyone else. “What did he do?”

   “This is the best part,” Cam continues. “He got so freaked out, he jumped out of the car and started to run home. But it was an away game! It took him five hours to get back. He left everything in his truck—phone, wallet, gear bag, everything. He couldn’t call anyone. He was too freaked to go back in case she or the ring were still there. We didn’t drive out to pick up his truck until a week later. He went a week without a car because he was so freaked out.”

   “That’s just one of the stories,” Logan adds. “There’s, like, a hundred more just as crazy.”

   I’m laughing so hard now my sides hurt. I’d almost forgotten why we’re all here.

   Then I remember and stop laughing.

   Because today is not a laughing day.

   I must have stopped rather suddenly, because Jake kisses my temple and says, “You can laugh and be happy, Kayla. They would want you to be.” I smile and kiss him on the cheek.

   Logan takes a huge gulp of his beer then belches, finger pointing at me and Jake. Heidi and Lucy groan in disgust. “I’m going to ignore this epic, ovary-exploding sexual tension thing you guys have going on and ask a question.”

   I stifle a laugh against Jake’s neck while he rolls his eyes at Logan. “Ask your question, asshole,” he says and rubs his nose along my jaw. God, that accent and that voice. My eyes close for a second. I think my ovaries will explode.

   “Why does he get to call you Kayla, and everyone else calls you Micky?”

   I shrug. “Because my family called me Kayla.”

EIGHTEEN

JAKE

   It’s been a week since the funeral, and Kayla has improved heaps. It’ll continue to be tough for a while, I’m sure—years maybe—but she seems to be finding ways to deal. She’s worked a couple of days with Dad and has kept busy around the house to distract herself. I go to school only when absolutely necessary—enough to keep Mom off my back. I don’t like being away from her.

   My graduation ceremony is today, and Kayla’s is tomorrow. Her school’s guidance counselor came to the house to let her know that her grades were good enough to pass and that she’ll still be able to graduate. The counselor also mentioned that she made some phone calls to UNC to make sure that Kayla’s scholarship would not be affected under the circumstances.