Straight Up Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 2)

“What are you doing, Jake?”

I spin on her. “I’m looking for the camera—the one you planted before you Punk’d me. Is that show even still a thing? Because I’m sure I’m being Punk’d right now.” I crouch and look under the bed.

“You’re not being Punk’d! Quit being an asshole!”

I stand, fold my arms, and set my jaw. “You’re telling me that last night you wanted me to jack off in a cup and give the contents to you.” My gaze lands on the turkey baster in bed beside her. Of course. It all makes sense now.

Christ. This is what my life has come to. This is what happens when you pine for your best friend for years instead of forcing yourself to move on. She wants your sperm. Not you. Just your swimmers. I feel like the kid who realizes he’s been walking around school with a “kick me” sign on his back. “You can’t be serious, Ava.”

“No. I’m not serious now. I was drunk, and it seemed like a good idea then. Now, I’m sober and I don’t want your sperm. It’s a bad idea, and I know it’s a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

And then, fucking dammit, she starts crying. She uses her thumbs to wipe her tears away, but her chest shakes, and it’s like taking an ice pick to the chest.

“Why can’t I just be like everybody else?” she asks, her voice unsteady. “Why can’t I find a nice guy who wants to knock me up? What’s wrong with me that my only relationship that lasted longer than five minutes was a marriage that was clearly doomed to failure from the start?”

Dammit. “Ava . . .”

“What?” Rolling to her side, she grips the blankets in her fists and stares at me. “You know I suck at relationships. I really, really suck.”

In my experience, it’s not so much that Ava sucks at relationships. The problem is more that she doesn’t really give them a chance. She meets a nice guy, and he’s either a jerk—so she doesn’t want to see him again because she married a jerk once and learned her lesson—or he’s too interested, which makes her suspicious that he’s a crazy person, because who would be interested in her? It’s all sorts of fucked up, but that’s just who she is—the most confident woman I know in every aspect of her life but romance.

She swings her legs to the side of the bed and cradles her face in her hands. “Oh, this is so stupid. I can’t believe I even said anything to you.”

“Well . . .” I clear my throat. “I guess I’m flattered?”

She peeks at me between her fingers. “You guess you’re flattered? I asked to bear your offspring, and you guess you’re flattered?” She groans.

I lower myself to sit on the bed beside her. “Are you serious about this baby thing?”

She drops her hands and nods. “I’ve thought about it for a long time, but I was hoping I’d find somebody. Like any other girl, I’d prefer to do it the old-fashioned way, but it’s getting kind of late for that.”

“You’re only thirty, Ava. There’s still time.”

She drags her bottom lip between her teeth. “My mom had three miscarriages, months of infertility treatments, and finally me. She had to have the same treatments to have Colton. It’s not going to be easy for me to conceive. I know it seems like I’m rushing into this, but I’m not. There aren’t many things in my life that I’m sure of. I am sure I want to be a mom, and I’m not willing to wait and see if it ‘works out.’”

Swallowing hard, I take her hand in mine and squeeze. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’ve talked to a fertility clinic about a sperm donor, but last night, I was freaking out about my kid having a crazy man’s genetics, so Teagan suggested I ask a friend. I could get the sperm free and know my child wasn’t genetically inclined to develop a fetish for Barbie heads or something.” She attempts to smile, but in her miserable state, it looks more like she’s baring her teeth than feeling joyful. “I’ll be fine, Jake.”

“You’re gonna raise a kid on your own, though? Do you know how hard that’s going to be?”

“Yeah. I do. But I don’t have any doubt in my mind that it’ll be worth it. I would never regret a child.”

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If this were one of the novels Ava likes to read so much, I’d kiss her hard, climb over her on the bed, and tell her that I’d give her babies, and I’d be by her side. If this were one of those books, she’d secretly want me in return.

But I put myself out there for Ava once before and, in the process, found out exactly how she felt about me.

So here we are. Sitting side by side, both desperately wanting something the other can give, and unable to make it happen.

“Too bad we didn’t make one of those pacts when we were kids,” I say. When she screws up her face in question, I say, “You know, one of those if we’re not married by thirty, we’ll marry each other things.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “It would be kind of like marrying my brother.”

I press my hand to my chest. “Ouch.”

“No offense.”