Crazy Girl(59)

“So, uh…I’ve been down here for about five minutes, guys,” a voice called from downstairs. Hannah practically hit the ceiling she popped up so fast, her eyes wide in panic.

“Who is that?” she whispered, frantically searching for her clothes like we were teenagers whose parents were about to walk in and catch us.

“You guys doing some heavy lifting up there, or what?” Kegs yelled up. I laughed. Caught up in the moment, I’d completely forgotten he was coming over to help today. As soon as Hannah had taken her shirt off, I forgot everything.

“It’s just Kegs,” I chuckled as I sat up and Hannah tossed my shorts at me.

“He was down there practically the whole time,” she stated more than questioned, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Actually, I came in at the are you close, baby part, so more toward the end,” Kegs answered her. Holding her shorts, she let her head drop in defeat. Standing in her tank and tiny panties, her skin illuminated by the light leaking in through the window, I couldn’t look away. Even while mad or embarrassed, she blew me away, she was so damn beautiful.

Sliding on my boxers and shorts before I stood, I told her, “You’re crazy beautiful, crazy girl. You know that?”

Her gaze flicked to mine, a softness pooled in them. I knew how to bring her back to me.

“So are you guys going for round two, or what?” Kegs hollered from downstairs. “Should I step outside?”

“Shut your pie hole, Kegs,” I yelled back. Giving Hannah a chaste kiss, I told her, “I better get down there. Take your time,” then headed downstairs to kick my friend’s ass.



Hannah met us outside, her features contorted in uncertainty as she scanned what sat in the back of Kegs’s truck. Noticing her perplexed expression, Kegs and I laughed.

“What is that?” She pointed to the back of Kegs’ truck.

“That,” Kegs boasted proudly, “is fifty-five pounds of A.N.A.L. with two quart bags of water directional blast wave.”

“A.N.A.L.?”

“Ammonium, Nitrate, Aluminum, and Powder,” I explained. “Fun play on words.”

“Nice.” Hannah eyed our ball of beauty, and her brow creased. “It’s a bomb?”

“Huh, huh, huh,” I grunted excitedly as I crushed her to my side with one arm. “It’s going to make a big boom.”

Smirking up at me, one brow quirked again, she asked, “Thought we were finishing packing and starting to move your stuff out?”

“We got a little distracted,” Kegs pointed out. “Apparently you know a thing or two about getting distracted. Yuk, yuk, yuk,” he laughed.

Hannah closed her eyes and burrowed her head into my side with a groan as Kegs and I chuckled. Squeezing her again, I asked, “You ready to go blow something up?”

Standing straight, she put her hands on her hips and sighed. “I feel like I should be the adult here and remind you we have a ton of stuff to move.”

“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah,” Kegs said dramatically. “There is a big bomb,” he paused for dramatic effect, “in the back of my truck.” He pointed to it.

Looking to me for backup, I frowned, giving my best puppy dog eyes. “Pwease can we go pway for just a few minutes, muddah?” Kegs and I both started whining like dogs, crowding her and bumping our chests against her.

Hannah raised her arms to block us and tried to shy away, but once we were both towering over her she laugh-yelled, “Ugh! Okay! Let’s go blow up your bomb, but then it’s time for work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” we replied in unison before sprinting for the truck doors.





“A good writer is always a people watcher.”

-Judy Blume





Four days later, in a tiny little room, I watched Deanna’s face light up as she stared at her baby on the ultrasound screen. Allen was still out of town for work, and she’d asked if I’d like to go with her for her ultrasound. I was also the designated cell phone holder so Allen could be present via FaceTime.

“Look at our little guy,” Allen cooed.

Deanna rolled her eyes. “We don’t know it’s a boy, Allen.”

“I have a feeling,” he replied.

“It’s too soon to know the sex for sure,” the perky tech chirped in.

“We don’t want to know the sex.” Deanna held up a hand as if it affirmed her statement. “We want it to be a surprise.”

“We’re still discussing that one,” Allen insisted.

Deanna flicked her gaze up to me. “Can you mute him somehow?”

Laughing, I flipped the screen so Allen could see my face. “You better watch it, Papa Bear. Don’t upset Mama Bear, or I’m gonna have to silence you.” I swiped my finger across my throat.

Allen didn’t get a chance to respond because the baby’s heartbeat roared before the tech turned down the volume and began pointing out what was what on the screen.

“Does everything look okay?” Deanna asked.

“Everything looks perfect to me,” the tech replied with a reassuring smile.

Allen and Deanna asked the tech several questions while I did what I did best—observed.

One might think I’d be fixated on the screen in awe of the baby, and the baby was most certainly awe-worthy, but it was Deanna I watched. I prided myself on being an intuitive person; someone who noticed things most might not. I was not sure if it was that part of me that noticed, or if it was that I knew my best friend so well I couldn’t not notice it. Maybe it was both.