The oak tree loomed over us, casting a large shadow from the afternoon sun. The sweet summer breeze wafted along the uncut grass, making the delicate petals of the flowering dogwood dance with the violets. Heaven never felt quite as close as when I was on a blanket with Jared by our oak tree, with our names scrawled elegantly in the bark.

Bean had grown for weeks without threat, but Jared and I weren’t fooled into thinking we would live the entire summer without event. We enjoyed the peaceful moments while we still had them, and that afternoon was no different.

Jared was studying Shax’s book. He hunched over the ugly pages, knees up. One hand held the ancient leather apart while the other rested on my stomach. The book seemed out of place in our quiet, beautiful afternoon.

Jared’s phone buzzed. He barely glanced in its direction and continued reading. He did that often when Kim called, resorting to ignoring her instead of repeating his reasons for holding onto the book. I could relate to her misery. Even so, it was easier to look the other way while Jared searched for answers while he could. To admit that to myself made me feel horrible, but it was a necessary evil. The choice to be a better mother than a friend wasn’t really a choice at all.

A motor hummed in the distance. “You should probably get your sneakers on,” Jared said. “Bex is here.”

Bex was bringing firearms today. We would add target practice to our daily sparring session. His motorcycle came to a stop at the edge of my blanket.

I looked up at him. “That blanket is worth more than your bike.”

Bex took off his helmet and snorted. “Negative.”

“Sentimental value,” Jared said, keeping his eyes on the book.

Now fourteen, Bex’s body had filled out. He was an inch taller than Jared, and could have been mistaken for a man in his early twenties. Except for the childlike sweetness that remained in his eyes and his occasional displays of inexperience, I would never believe that he was the same person as the eleven-year-old I had met a few years before. It was disturbing.

I must have looked ridiculous in my black leggings and white t-shirt with Bean balled noticeably in front, crouching and ready in front of what looked like a full-grown man. Bex could have wadded me up like a piece of paper on my best day, and I knew if anyone had witnessed a pregnant woman trading punches with someone twice her size, they would have called the police.

“Bex,” Jared warned without looking up.

Bex’s nose wrinkled, irritated at Jared’s instruction. “I know. The subtle distention of her middle section is a constant reminder not overdo it. I won’t hurt your messianic spawn, Nina.”