Zoey: You need to call me now, jackass.

I stare at the text for what seems like the hundredth time. It’s Sunday evening, Chris is on his way over with donuts, and for the life of me, I can’t stop staring at the text Zoey sent me.

When I first read it, my immediate thought was something happened to Rylee, but the more I read it, the more I realized what she was doing. She’s intervening.

There is no way Rylee kept our story from Zoey and Victoria. Their friendship is too strong. And knowing Zoey, I really shouldn’t be surprised by her text, because there is no way she would be able to keep from saying her peace about the entire situation.

But I’m too damn raw to talk to her right now.

Knock, knock.

Thank God.

“It’s open,” I call out, not wanting to move from the slouched position on my couch.

The door to my apartment opens and when I expect to see burly Chris walk through with a box of donuts, Justine passes through the threshold, a Danish box in her hand.

Sigh.

Can’t a guy get a fucking donut when he wants one?

“You look like shit,” Justine says, closing my door and going straight to my kitchen where she grabs two forks, two waters from the fridge, and then plops down next to me.

“What happened to Chris and donuts?”

“You know how he is with feelings, so you’re getting Justine and Danish instead.” She flips open the box and hands me a fork. “It’s raspberry and delightful so wipe that sneer off your face and take a bite.”

Before I can stop her, she scoops up a big piece with my fork and shoves it in my mouth. I let the Danish sit on my tongue for a few seconds before chewing and . . . mother fucker, it is good.

With her finger wiggling at me, Justine knowingly says, “See, I told you.” Taking a bite of her own, she talks while chewing. “Now tell me what the hell is going on. Last thing we knew, you were having the weekend of your life with Rylee. What changed?”

I exhale and tip my head back so it’s resting on the couch cushion. “Everything.”

And that’s the fucking truth. Not only did my relationship with Rylee end in a flash, but my feelings for her morphed into something entirely more serious than I ever could have predicted when I first met her. Seeing her again, in person, solidified everything brewing deep within my bones.

“Why?” Justine takes another bite from her fork, letting the metal amble in her mouth longer than normal.

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“Skip the horny details. I’m assuming the first half of your trip was splendid. What happened during the second half? Why am I sharing this Danish with you?”

I let out a heavy breath, sorrow clouding my vision, my fork poised in my hand resting on my stomach. “We started talking about our futures and what we want. Hell, I opened up to her about my past, and I mean I told her everything.”

Justine stiffens, her eyes narrowing. “Did she fucking leave because of what you told her?”

“No.” I pat Justine’s leg, appreciating how protective she is. “She was actually super empathetic when I told her about Christine, the accident, and my time in prison. Incredibly empathetic actually. It wasn’t until the morning when we started talking about our future that she went rigid on me, disappeared into the bathroom. She was sobbing, Justine.”

“Sobbing?” Justine’s brows rise. “What the hell did you say to make her sob?” She slaps me in the arm, steals my fork, and then points it at me. “Did you break that girl’s heart?”

“What? No!” Why am I the one getting yelled at now? “I told her about wanting to have a family and getting married one day. Isn’t that what women like to hear?”

Lip curled, eyes gazing toward the ceiling, her fingers tapping her chin, Justine says, “Well, that doesn’t seem incriminating. What did she say?”

“She said she can’t have a family.” I scrub my face and say, “I kind of blew up on her because it was like déjà vu. She was packing her things and leaving me without even giving me a fucking chance to keep her in my life.”

“Hold up.” Justine raises her hand. “Did she say she doesn’t want a family or can’t have a family? Big difference.”

My brow pinches together. What is she getting at here? “How is there a difference?”

Justine rolls her eyes and sits up straighter. “Don’t be so dense, Beck. If she doesn’t want a family, that’s her choice. But if she can’t have kids, that may not be something she can control. So are you sure she said can’t?”

I still, my pulse starting to pick up as I try to recollect the words we spoke to each other. “Fuck, I think she said can’t.”

Justine plants another wallop of a slap to my arm and huffs. “You stupid man. Ugh, this makes sense.” Justine shoves a huge bite of Danish in her mouth and continues to speak, bits of pastry flying out of her mouth and hitting my face and shirt. Justine is very comfortable around me. “She confesses that she can’t have children. She sobs in the bathroom. You blow up on her. Yeah, no wonder you’re in California and she’s all the way over in Maine right now.”

My eyes race back and forth, my mind working a mile a minute. “Do you think she’s unable to get pregnant?”

“Duh! God, welcome to the conversation, Beck.” Justine shakes her head. “Men really are stupid.”

“Shit.” My hand goes to my phone and I open up the screen to Zoey’s text. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What?”

I show the text to Justine and once again, she whacks me. “My guess is she’s calling to tell you you’re an insensitive prick who yelled at a girl who didn’t deserve to be yelled at.”

Yeah, that’s my fucking guess too.

Out of nowhere, Justine swipes my phone and starts pressing buttons only to be followed by the sound of a phone ringing on speaker.

“What the fuck—?”

“It’s about time you called me, dickhead.” Zoey’s voice fills the small space of my apartment and I take a deep breath. Fuck, for a second I thought she was calling Rylee. I can handle Zoey. “You have some explaining to do, mother fucker.” Or at least I think I can handle her.

I go to answer her when Justine puts up her hand and says, “Zoey, it’s Justine.”

“Justine? Oh I’m sorry. I thought this was Beck. You’re not a dickhead. How are you? Did you try that brownie recipe I emailed you?”

Brownie recipe? They email? The fuck?

“I did. Chris ate half the batch and the kids ate the other half. Note to self: make a big batch and hide them.”

“I told you they’d be a real winner.”

“They were,” Justine coos. “But unfortunately, I’m not calling you to talk about brownies. I, uh . . . I have Beck with me.”

“Ah, yes, am I on speaker phone?”

“Of course.”

“Hey, Zoey,” I sigh, hating this right now.

“Oh hello, Beck. Took you long enough to call me. Had to bring in a friend to help?” I’m sure I heard her mumble, “Dickhead.” Just in case I didn’t know . . .

Grumbling, I slouch on the couch and wave at Justine to continue. I don’t feel like a verbal bashing from Zoey right now. Hell, calling her wasn’t even my idea, so Justine can take the lead.

Clearing her throat, Justine says, “As you know, our friends snuck away this weekend to Las Vegas.”

“Yes, they thought they were so clever, getting away for the weekend without consulting us. Honestly, what were they thinking?”

“They obviously weren’t,” Justine answers, patting me on the leg.

“Can we just get on with it? Fuck.” I rub my brow. What I wouldn’t give to not be in this situation right now. All I want is to have Rylee wrapped in my arms, looking out over the ocean in Key West. That’s when I felt the most at ease, the most myself. And then Vegas. Vegas trumped Key West.

“Hey, why are you getting pissy when you’re the one being the asshole? Do you know the kind of hell Rylee has been through?” Zoey’s voice gets louder and I match it right back.

“No, I don’t. So can someone please fucking inform me? Because she sure as hell didn’t. She just ran.”

“Because she’s scared, Beck.” Zoey takes a deep breath. “She told me not to talk to you because in her mind this is over; your relationship is completely over.”

I shake my head and look to the ceiling, biting on my bottom lip to prevent me from yelling obscenities. Justine gives my knee a reassuring squeeze, letting me know she’s here for me, and even though it’s nice to have friends who care deeply enough to sit through relationship agony with you, I want nothing more than to be by myself. How the fuck was I supposed to know what she meant when she said she can’t have kids? If I’d realized . . . if I had any idea how hard it was for her to hear me talk about my dreams of being a dad . . .

Why run?

And even though I haven’t craved alcohol in many years, I know Justine and Chris are still keeping an eye on me.

“So why are you bothering to talk to me then? What’s the point if she’s tossed our relationship to the trash?”

“Because she loves you, Beck.” My eyes start to sting as my skin prickles with goosebumps. If only I could hear that from her. “But she’s willing to push that aside so you can have the life she thinks you deserve.” What the hell? What does that mean?

“I only want her.”

“And that’s the answer I hoped to hear.” Zoey pauses for a second and then says, “This past year for her has been hell. Life-changing hell. We forced her to go to Key West to try and bring her back to life. And then there was you. You were supposed to be a fling, but you kept pursuing, and she saw how she could easily fall for you . . . and she did.”

“I don’t understand, Zoey. What the hell do I—?”

“She was diagnosed with cervical cancer nine months ago, Beck.” My breath catches in my throat and the pieces start to form. Cancer. Oh Rylee. Zoey continues to talk and it’s almost like my life is in slow motion as she fills me in. “It was aggressive, fortunately she caught it at the very beginning . . .” God, I can hear how this is shaking Zoey. Fuck. “She spoke with many doctors and the consensus to beat this cancer was to have a complete hysterectomy.”

“Meaning she can’t have kids,” I finish for her.

“Exactly. At the time, it was a decision she made to save her life. She was in it from the beginning, remove everything she told them, but afterward . . . afterward she mourned. For about six months she mourned the loss of ever being able to carry her own child. It was a very tough concept for her to accept. It wasn’t until recently that she started to get some color back in her face and enjoy life again. When she was with you, it was the first time in almost a year I saw the true essence of my friend again. She was happy, albeit cautious at times, but she was smiling, and that meant everything to Victoria and me.”

Fuck. I take a deep breath, my heart beating so damn fast I feel like I can’t breathe. I can’t even imagine the kind of emotional battle Rylee has had to fight over the past year. Learning you had cancer, so aggressive it could take your life, and then giving up the idea of having children of your own to save your life? It’s unfathomable that an individual would have to make such a decision, let alone Rylee . . . my Rylee. With each passing breath, I can feel my heart split in two, from the loss Rylee has suffered through, from the grieving her soul has suffered from.

I ache for her.

I long to hold her, to tell her that her dreams of a family are not over. That we are not over.

That I love her.

That even though she’s grieving from the loss of not being able to have biological children, her dreams of being a mom can still come true. They’ll just have to come true in a roundabout way.

“And she thinks because she can’t have kids of her own that I won’t want her? Is that what you’re telling me? She left before I could leave her?” I would never do that. Why didn’t she trust that?

Zoey makes an agreeable sound. “Nailed it right on the head. Because she loves you, she wants your dreams to become your reality, Beck. She also doesn’t want you resenting her later—hating her—because she can’t give you the kids you want.”

I let out a long pent-up breath. “That’s fucking stupid.”

Justine twists her lips and frowns. “Don’t call Rylee stupid.”

“Yeah, don’t call her stupid,” Zoey chimes in.

“I didn’t call her stupid. I called her thought process stupid. Christ.” I look at Justine. She has tears in her eyes, and I know it’s because she understands how this is gutting me. Justine was born to be a mom, so I can only imagine what she’s feeling here. She gets Rylee more than I’ll ever be able to. I can’t bear that Rylee thought the only option was for her to leave. It’s as though she considers herself less somehow. Her insecurities . . . not knowing how beautiful she is . . . is it all related? I rub my thighs with my palms and lean forward, speaking into the phone more directly. “Just because we can’t have biological children together doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with her, Zoey. There are so many kids out there looking to be adopted. Hell, I’d foster kids if she wanted that. I just want to be surrounded by little minds I can shape and mold. It doesn’t matter how we collect those tiny souls. And if she’d given me a chance to speak before running, I could have told her that.”

“That’s Rylee. Super stubborn.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

Standing and grabbing the phone from Justine, I start pacing around my apartment, my mind racing a mile a minute, plans formulating.

“Zoey, can you do me a favor?”

“I don’t know.” She hesitates. “Does it involve you getting our girl back?”

“It does.”

Justine perks up, shoving another big bite of Danish into her mouth, her eyes tracking my every move.

“Then how can I help?”

“Can you get me Rylee’s parents’ details? I need to talk to them.”

“Ah, are you proposing? Are you going to ask for her hand in marriage?” Justine’s mouth drops open.

“What? No. I love her, but we’re definitely not ready for that step. I’m smart enough to realize that. Can you get me their info, please? I have something important to discuss with them.”

“Fine, but are you going to let me in on your plan?”

“Yeah.” I pause and push my hand through my hair, staring at Justine. “When you pick me up from the airport.”

Justine and Zoey both squeal obnoxiously.

I toss my phone at Justine and head to my room. I have some serious thinking to do. And packing.

It’s time to get my forever.