Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(67)

“You forgive me?” I ask, my voice deathly calm and quiet. “What exactly should I forgive you for? For letting your boyfriend beat on us? For being a fucking junkie? For abandoning your children with no money or food for months at a time? Or maybe it’s for fucking my boyfriend after you sent me to the store to buy you smokes. Oh, or maybe I should forgive you for stealing Jesse’s brand-new bike just to pawn it?” My voice rises with each question, my face inches from hers. “Should I forgive you for chasing away our father? The only fucking halfway normal person in our lives?” I shout, pointing toward Henry.

Crystal surprises me when she cackles, her eyes lighting up with glee. I don’t trust it. She looks at Henry. “You didn’t tell them why you left?”

“Crystal. Don’t,” Henry warns.

My stomach twists with nerves, and I just know whatever comes next isn’t going to be good.

“They deserve to know.”

“Get out. Now,” I say between clenched teeth. Jesse stands, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“Deserve to know what?”

“Don’t pay any attention to her. This is what she does. She’s jealous of our relationship with Henry and she’ll do anything to sabotage it. Isn’t that right?”

“I am your mother!” she screeches. “He isn’t even your dad!”

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.