Page 32 of One Mistake

For once, I had hope. I had the idea of a tomorrow worth waking up for. One where a genuine smile didn’t seem abstract and so far away. “I promise.”

She pulled back and smiled. “And even if we’re not together”—cue record scratch.

“What?”

“I-I’m just saying, if the path leads us…shit. I live in California. And I’m losing the house…I’ve left here before and promised to come back to visit. It took my mom dying to get me on a plane.” She was killing me. Taking away my hope.

“What the hell does that mean?” I was going to need it in plain English. No more pussy-footing through a field of nice words.

“I’m saying, I don’t think…I don’t think we should plan a big bright future that isn’t going to happen. I’m here for a little while. Let’s enjoy that.”

Enjoy that? “What?” Not going to happen pretty much didn’t leave room for misinterpretation.

“Well, tell me, Ryder. Are you moving to California?” Sun. Sand. Beaches. Winter warmth. Sounded good to me. But I didn’t answer out of sheer pigheaded obstinance. “Because I’m not really a video chat kind of girl.”

Dear God, I couldn’t lose her again. Fuck!

“I thought you wanted to try to keep the house.” I was grasping at straws. Any one I could get a grip on because I couldn’t and wouldn’t give her up without a fight. “I could help.”

Her face changed and pinched, then went peaceful. Then pinched again. She was battling herself. Over me. “Ryder.”

No. Not this time. “Just think about it? Please?” Yeah. I’d beg. And it wouldn’t be the last time. But right now, I had something to take care of.

I drove to Dad’s office. Waited in the lobby like I wasn’t the son of the man whose name was on the door. Then I waited some more. He had clients. I got it. But even knowing that didn’t make the waiting any easier. But nothing was more important to me than this. So, if it took all day, that was exactly how long I’d wait.

One Decade Ago

I stared at my dad. And at the woman who couldn’t have been more than my age. Probably less. Dad didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty. Instead, he nodded to the door, telling me without a word to leave my friend’s boat. I stood still and crossed my arms.

“Ryder, I need a moment.” Oh, he needed more than that. He needed an entire protection squad because once Mom found out Dad was seeing a woman young enough to be his daughter, she was going to kill him. Probably with her bare hands. And he’d deserve it. It wasn’t often I was on Mom’s side, but today, what choice did I have? He was wrong.

“I’ll wait on the deck.” Because no way in hell was I leaving here until I knew exactly what the hell was going on, who he thought he was, and what the fuck he thought he was doing.

It took a good thirty more minutes for him to appear and I didn’t let my mind go to what he might’ve been doing in that time. I didn’t need to know. But he appeared beside me at the stern of the boat. “I should explain.”

“Yeah.” He was and had always been big with the obvious.

At least he had the decency to look ashamed. But under that, I didn’t see much in the way of feeling. “I’m sorry for what you saw.”

“Is she gone?” Not that it mattered, but with everything that had happened over the last few days, I didn’t need someone around documenting this conversation for the newspapers, and I trusted no one. Except Dad, but that was done now, too.

He nodded and held out a beer. I shook my head. This wasn’t a have a drink with Dad kind of moment. If I was anyone else, or someone who hadn’t been responsible for dragging his parents and himself through the dirtiest parts of the gutter in the last few days and weeks, I probably would’ve been freaked out, crazed by what I’d seen. But I was Ryder Kennedy, ringleader of the Glouster Four, a man with no home, no friends, no one to lean on but my dad. I sighed and waited for whatever excuse he was going to make. Probably something in the “Mom’s a cold fish” category.

“I’m sorry you saw all of that, son.” But he hadn’t said he was sorry he’d done it. Noted.

Jesus, frozen fish or not, Mom was going to kill him. She was already on a warpath with me in her sights. For one wild second, I gave him the benefit of the doubt—the idea that he’d done this to distract Mom from hating me so badly. Then reality sank back in. He’d done this because he’d wanted to get laid, to have some sweet young thing look up at him and worship at his belt buckle. Worship him in a way that my mother never had and never would.

“How long have you been cheating on Mom with that…girl?” I wasn’t trying to think of a bad name for her. I wanted to convey to him how young she was and how awful he looked.

“With this one?”

Oh, Lord. There was more than one. “Dad.” I raked my hands through my hair and turned away as disappointment ached inside of me. Divorce was better than deception. Especially deception that would set her off like one of those bombs that leveled everything around it.

“Look, I’m not going to explain this to you because…she’s your mother and I’m your father and we have our own life that has nothing to do with you.”

Nothing to do with me? He had to be kidding. “You brought this to my doorstep. To my friend’s boat.” Which we were currently breaking about ten laws by being aboard because of the line of yellow police tape and the broken seal on the door that lead to the bedroom below deck.

But more than to my friend’s boat. And often. Oh, shit. To my room at the frat house. That was why he’d been “dropping off money” so often lately. I felt stupid. I’d actually believed he’d convinced Mom I was working hard and doing well. He’d just needed the excuse to come to campus and the frat house.