What? I hear the words, but it takes a minute for my brain to catch up. Jess staggers back, as if he took a physical hit to the gut. My eyes dart to Henry’s in question, and the guilt tells me all I need to know.
It’s true.
Henry isn’t my father.
Before I realize what’s happening, Jess snatches the keys off the coffee table and shoves his way past Crystal. I hear the 4Runner start, and I run outside after him, but he’s already gone.
“Jess!” I scream after the taillights glowing red in the night sky.
I run back inside. “Give me your keys,” I demand, holding my palm out. “I need to find him.” Henry hesitates for a second before dropping them into my hand.
“Kid—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Don’t. Just don’t. Make sure she’s gone before we get back,” I say, tossing a look at Crystal who is now crying with her matted, blonde head in her hands.
I can’t think about what this means right now. I can’t think about how I feel. My only focus is finding Jess. I run out into the cold night air. It’s snowing now, which only adds to my worry. I jump into Henry’s truck, leaving him and Crystal to hash it out inside.
I don’t even know where to start. I try his school first. Don’t ask me why that makes any sense in my brain. The parking lot is completely empty. Next, I try the two restaurants that are still open—still nothing. I drive by a few bars. Jess might just be dumb enough to try his luck. Nothing.
My panic grows by the minute, fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel. When he stormed off in Oakland, I didn’t worry. I knew where to find him. But this…this feels different.
This is what I was afraid of. And it’s my fault. I dragged him out of the city, threw him into Henry’s life, they bonded, and now…this. Poor kid is never going to trust again.
I call Dare, hoping he’ll answer. He said he was stopping by Bad Intentions before going home, but he left before us, so I don’t know if he’s still there. It rings three torturously long times before he picks up.
“Lo?” Confusion paints his tone. I don’t usually call him.
“I can’t find Jesse.” My voice sounds shaky and panicky to my own ears.
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“Fucking Crystal,” I answer, as if that explains everything. “He has the 4Runner. Are you at work? Do you see his car outside anywhere?”
There are a few bars, including Blackbear, in that area.
“I’m here. I don’t see it out front, but I’ll drive around.” I hear him moving around, and then a second later, the sound of his engine starting.
“He doesn’t know how to drive in this weather. The windshield wipers don’t work for shit, and the tires…they’re not good in the snow—”
“Calm down. It’s just a little snow. Jess will be fine. We’ll find him. Do you want me to come pick you up?”
“No, I think it’s better to split up.”
“Okay,” he says after a long pause. “Are you okay?”
“Henry’s not my dad,” I say softly, and Dare curses under his breath.
“I’m sorry, baby.” And it’s not sympathy. It’s empathy. Because if anyone knows how it feels, it’s Dare. But on a much larger scale.
“I’m sorry,” I say, regret lacing my tone. “I know this doesn’t even come close to what happened to yo—”
“Hey, don’t compare tragedies. It’s okay to be upset, Lo.”
I wouldn’t call it a tragedy, but I appreciate him in this moment more than he’ll ever know.
“I’ll let you know if I find him,” Dare says. I thank him and hang up the phone, racking my brain for places to search. I drive around for another hour without luck. I wish I knew his coach’s number, or even where he lived. Maybe he went there.
My phone lights up with a text from Dare.
Dare: No luck. Anything?
Me: No. I’m going to go home and see if he went back. Get some sleep.
One of us should.
Dare: I’m going to go home to pick up my phone charger, then grab a cup of coffee. I’ll come to you.
There he goes again, making me feel all supported and shit. My chest physically aches when I think about all he’s done for me. For us. Everyone in town seems to be intimidated by him. Even he thinks he’s some kind of monster. But he’s never been anything other than an angel to me. My broken boy. Doesn’t he know he’s not really broken at all? It’s everyone else who’s flawed.
When I get back to Henry’s, Jess isn’t there. But fucking Crystal is. And she’s wearing a bath towel. I throw my hand up in her direction, looking to Henry for answers.
“Don’t look at me. She won’t leave.”
“So call the cops. I’m getting real good at that,” I say, fishing my phone out of my jacket pocket. “You’re on probation, right?” It’s an educated guess, but her reaction tells me I’m right.
“Logan, sweetie—”
“I know you told Eric where we were, too. I’ve always known you were selfish, but damn, Crystal. Do you have to make sure everyone else’s lives are as pathetic as yours? You couldn’t just let us have this?”
“I was helping you!” she screeches. “That man loves you, and he has money. He could take care of you for life. You’re an idiot to pass that up.”
Fucking typical.
“This may come as a shock to you, but to most people, there are more important things in life than money for your next fix.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but I hold my hand up to stop her as my phone, still in my other hand, vibrates with a text from Dare. I see the two words that have me sagging in relief: He’s here.
He went to Dare’s.
He went to Dare.
* * *
I KNOW SOMEONE IS IN my house the minute I open the door, even though I don’t see anyone. I walk into the kitchen, noticing an open cabinet, then wet footprints leading to the back door. I open the sliding glass door to see a shirtless Jess, nursing a near-empty bottle of Jack in my hot tub.
This is going to be a long night.
He stares ahead, unmoving. I shoot a text to Lo, letting her know that I’ve found him before pocketing my phone. I brace myself for the angry, drunken mess Jess is sure to be. I know because looking at Jess is like looking at myself ten years ago.
“Up we go,” I say, leaning over the stairs, lifting him underneath his armpits. Kid is solid and drunk, which equals dead weight. I finally hoist him up out of the water, only to realize he’s butt ass naked.
“Ah, what the fuck, man,” I say, averting my eyes.
I lead him down the steps, keeping a healthy distance. He drops the bottle of Jack, glass shattering at our feet. I try to lead Jess away from the glass, but he walks across it, unfeeling. Uncaring. Once inside, he sits his naked ass down on my couch, and I run upstairs to grab him a towel and some clean clothes.
“Put these on.” I toss the clothes next to him. He doesn’t move, head bent, cradled in his hands.
“Come on, man. Get dressed.”
He finally listens, moving slowly. Facing away from him, I call Lo.