~*~Kevin~*~

The guys tell me that when I get mad my eyes get wild and I can be pretty scary. I donít think Iíve ever been so mad in my entire life. And by the look on her face I was pretty scary. Good. She needed to be fucking scared.

"Kevin, what are you . . ."

I cut her off, she was going to keep going with this, "Stop! Just stop. Your doctor told me this is a "negative" for RU-486 use." She curled her lips in. "When did the god damned lies start, Jessica?"

She was crying, "I donít know."

I was in her face, "Itís pretty simple. Is the baby, was the baby even mine?"

"Yes."

"Was it an "accident" or did you do this on purpose?"

"I quit taking the pill. I wanted to give you a child. I wanted to come first."

I couldnít believe what I was hearing, "And in your little twisted fucked up mind, trapping me into marrying you then having an abortion would make you first. Explain that one."

"I . . . thought Iíd be first. But you were putting the baby before me. I thought with just a little more time youíd love me. Some time with just us."

I fisted my hands in the blankets, so tempted to hit her. I was silent then something else hit me, "The day I took you to the doctor, you got the rest of the rest of the meds then?" She just nodded. "So not only did you do this behind my back you fucking got me to drive you. Incredible. Fucking incredible."

She was crying, "Kevin, I love you."

Laughing, I was laughing. "You are some piece of work. You kill my child and have the balls to tell me you love me. I hate you. Iíve never hated anyone in my life, but I hate you. Let me tell you whatís going to happen now. You get out of here Wednesday morning. You will be at my house at noon, and you will have all your shit out of my house by five or I will have a nice fucking bonfire in the backyard. I will have divorce papers drawn up and you will sign them. You wonít fight me on shit or Iíll drag your lying murdering ass into court. You get fucking nothing of mine. Except out of my life."

"I canít . . Iím supposed to stay in bed a few days. Where will I go so fast?"

"Donít you understand? I donít give a shit where you go. I donít give a shit how you do it." I got loud, "You just fucking do it!" I walked out of the room and never once looked back.

~*~Tracie~*~

Five am. Phone ringing. I groaned into the phone, "Yeah?"

"This is Buddy, Iím a bartender at Butchertown Pub. Weíve got a man here who is ripped and gave us your number to call. Says his name is Kevin."

"Iíll be right there."

What is happening now? I threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and headed out the door. Fifteen minutes later I was at the bar. Kevin was sitting at the bar leaning back on a bar stool. He looked like hell. Eyes glazed over, slumping to the side, and disheveled. I walked over and put my arm around him, "Hey gorgeous."

He slid off the bar stool and hugged me, "Hey, I knew youíd come get me. I knew I could count on you. My best friend. Can I crash at your place? I donít want to go home."

"Of course. Letís go." I got him in my car and headed out. The drive home was filled with him rambling and making no sense. More than half of it I couldnít even understand. I just said "yeah" and nodded. He wouldnít remember any of this tomorrow. I didnít know what heíd been doing but drunk was just part of it. At my apartment I practically carried him in, which was no easy feat. I dumped him on the guest bed and took off his shoes and jeans.

He mumbled a "Thank you" then passed out. I covered him up and went back to bed for a few hours.

It was almost four in the afternoon when Kevin got up. I was sitting in the family room reading when I heard him on the stairs. I watched him cross the room and sit on the chair with his head in his hands. He scratched his head and sat back, "Thank you."

I smiled, "No problem. Want some water?"

"Yeah, Iíll get it." I waved him off and got him a big glass. He drained it then sat there some more. "I need you to do a few things for me."

"Ok." Something told me to ask no questions.

"Go to my house and get me some clothes, my travel kit, make sure everythingís locked up."

"No problem. You gonna stay here a couple of days?" He didnít need to ask. He shook his head and looked up at me. His eyes were so sad, and empty. I kissed his head and laid my hand on his face, "Iíll be right back."

No sign of Jessica at the house. The front door was unlocked. I walked around and picked up some dirty dishes and put a few things up. I went on upstairs and pulled a bag from the guest closet and packed Kevin enough things for a few days. Nothing looked different. I wondered what had happened, what was going on. I drove back to my house with a million thoughts running through my mind. Kevin met me at the door and headed upstairs.

It was almost an hour before he came back downstairs. I had dinner ready by then. He sat down at the table with me and ate. "Huge favor time. Tomorrow at noon will you go to my house and just be there while she gets her shit out."

"Of course." That was pretty much the extent of the nightís conversation. We put in a movie, but neither of us really watched it. I watched him. His facial expressions going from angry to sad to empty. Wiping away an occasional tear. I left him alone as long as I could then moved to the couch next to him. I put my arm around him. He sat there a second then laid his head on my shoulder. We stayed that way through the end of the moving, "Kevlyn, you need to go to bed, you look exhausted."

"I donít want to."

"You donít want to sleep . . . or you donít want to be alone."

"Both. Mostly the second one." He looked ready to drop. I grabbed his hand and pulled him up, "Trace . . ."

"Shut up. Weíre going to bed." He was like a lost little kid. I was worried about him. He did whatever I told him. I got him into my bed and laid down. It took about five seconds before he was curled up next to me with his head on my shoulder. I rubbed his back and kissed his forehead, "I love you, Kevlyn."

"I love you too, Trace. Thank you." Another five seconds of quiet and I could feel his body shaking. I held him closer. He let me.

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