Page 112 of My Mistake To Make

‘I lost her,’ I say, pushing the words past a throat that’s dry despite the four beers I’ve had.

‘So, talk. What happened?’

I tell him everything, about the box, the way Cara was so panicked about losing it, then about everything with Jessie, the letters, the fact that Cara didn’t deny any of it.

‘I’m a fuckin’ idiot for believing her.’

‘Yeah, you are.’ He shakes his head and punches me in the thigh.

‘Fuck, Leo. What the hell?’

‘Let me be clear here, theherthat you are an idiot for believing, ain’t Cara.’ I turn and glare at him. ‘You seriously chose to believe the word of the spawn of Satan. The girl who has made your life a living hell for years, even before Bowie, over the woman who made you happier than I remember ever seeing you?’

‘Fuck you. She had fuckin’ evidence. It was right there in black and white. Cara admitted they were hers—she didn’t deny a damn thing. Jessie seemed genuine like she’s trying to get straight. She said I can have Bowie.’

He throws his head back and laughs loudly, and I stare, waiting for his explanation.

‘Are you serious right now?’ He stares back at me, then shakes his head and stands. ‘Brother, I love you, but I can’t be around your stupid ass right now. You got played, Doug. In a very unsurprising turn of events, Jessica Lavell manipulated the shit out of you to get what she wanted.’

Did she? The letters, though.

‘She didn’t want Cara in your life. Boom, mission accomplished. The fact that you, for even a single second, believed that evil witch has me seriously questioning your intelligence. Her track record should have had you driving up to that house to laugh with your girl about Jessie’s attempts to fuck things up for you. Instead, you took the bait.’

He bends to stroke Harley’s head, and if I were in a better mood, I’d be pissed that she doesn’t feel the need to jump up and punchhimin the balls, but I can’t consider anything other than my confusion right now.

‘I talked to Zoe,’ he says as he steps down from the porch and turns back to look at me. ‘I told her to keep Bowie away for another night. You’re in no state to see your kid right now. Go up there, Doug. Go up there and beg for forgiveness because you fucked up. Get her back. Do whatever it takes.’

And then he’s gone, and I’m confused as shit.

The cold light ofday doesn’t improve a fucking thing. My head hurts the second I open my eyes, and the memories of last night come rushing back. I am so confused.

Leo was right. I believed Jessie, even after everything she’s done because of the letters. Cara admitted they were hers. She didn’t deny anything. But when I think about the confusion and hurt on her face, my stomach gets all knotted up. I watched her crumble. I watched her always-warm, beautiful eyes become cold. Her ever-present smile became lost to a tightly clenched jaw, and I tried and failed to ignore the way she trembled and the tears she wasn’t able to hold back.

She blackmailed her own grandmother to get that house. She admitted it, didn’t she?

I try to remember the words. What I said—what she did, but I was so angry it’s all just a blur. Why didn’t I just ask her to explain? Why did I have to go storming in there like an angry bull and fuck everything up without all the answers?

I go through the motions of getting ready to face the day. Mama stayed at Merv’s last night, so the house is empty and quiet. I let Harley out to pee, take a shower, and get dressed. I try to eat, but my stomach rejects the idea pretty fast. I need to talk to her.

Hopping on my bike, I race up toward the house, and seeing it come into view as I reach the top of the hill leaves a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I have to pull over to the side of the road. I stare up at the house, my work, and I remember all the beautiful moments we had up there—all the moments that I drew a line through and crossed out, the moment I stormed into that house last night.

I can’t see Cara, not until I know for sure. Turning around, I head back down the hill and straight to Jessie’s place.

‘Morning,’ she says as she answers, a small smile on her face. ‘You doing okay?’

She really does seem so different; it’s fucking with my head. We step inside, and she pours us two cups of coffee from her pot, and we sit. I don’t say anything.

‘Did you decide what you’re going to do about the letters—about Cara?’

I think about it and decide to act like I didn’t fuck everything up already. I need to know.

‘I don’t know, Jess.’ I rub my hand over my face. ‘I mean, I was pissed last night, but now, I don’t know if it makes much of a difference.’

‘What do you mean?’ She tilts her head, confused.

‘She’s in the house already. The work is all done. The money is hers. Charlotte is dead. Roberta is dead. What good is blowing it all up?’

She swallows and takes a breath.

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