Ryan turned on his side, leaning on his elbow. “Nina, you’re pregnant. Some rough shit is going to go down. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day you give birth to Lil’ Bitty Saint Ryel.” He pointed to my stomach, “But I think we can all agree that taking time for granted is precarious.”

“Precarious,” I said. “I’m so impressed.”

“Shut your face,” Ryan grinned. “I love her. I want to be with her. And not just around her. It’s even worse knowing she’s not here, but she’s still somewhere around.”

“I know the feeling,” I said. My eyes unfocused as I remembered a not-so-distant past where I struggled studying in my dorm room at Andrews Hall, knowing Jared was somewhere nearby. Talking into a microphone hanging from my wall, standing in the freezing rain. Knowing he would come.

“I think she likes me, too, she just won’t admit it. I just gotta crack that shell.”

Ryan’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Good luck,” I said.

Claire and Jared returned carrying chairs in their arms.

“I love you,” Ryan said, looking straight at Claire. She stood, speechless.

“Smooth,” I nodded.

“I…uh…,” Claire said, looking around. She sat the chairs on the floor and then looked at her brother. “Someone else might visit…I better get more chairs.”

When the door closed behind her, Ryan looked down and laughed once without humor. “So stubborn.”

“Better than stupid,” Jared said.

Ryan’s head jerked up. “Excuse me?”

“Let her do her job,” Jared said, his voice flat.

“Coming from you? That’s hysterical.”

The tension between them thickened the air in the room. “Come on, guys,” I said.

Jared’s eyes were tight, and Ryan leaned forward a bit. Any civility between them had always seemed forced. It was only a matter of time before they exchanged words.

Jared shifted. “What is that supposed to mean, exactly, Ryan?”

“You seem to forget why everyone is in this mess to begin with. If you’d done your job by the book, none of this would have happened. So how about you let us all make our own choices without judgment?”

Jared’s body was rigid; his jaw tight. I waited for him to let Ryan have it—to come back with one of his undeniable and logical retorts, but he didn’t. Without a word, he left the room.

“Finally…he’s speechless,” Ryan said, relaxing back against the bed.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said.

Ryan frowned. “Why not? Because he’s Jared? He has no problem telling everyone else what they’ve done wrong, but he hasn’t made the best choices, either. He insinuated I’m keeping Claire from doing her job when he was in the same situation not too long ago.”

“I know.”

“Then why defend him? Why can’t you just say, ‘Ryan, you’re right. Jared’s wrong.’”