“You have to. She said I can’t stop it…that it’s up to the courts now. She’s coming to arrest you.”
In my alternate reality, I was supposed to be defending my dissertation tomorrow afternoon and waiting to hear if I’d landed the adjunct faculty gig. But that all changed in a heartbeat. I’m quite aware that the repercussions here are far greater than just the job I’m never going to get now. I’m royally and thoroughly fucked.
I pinch the phone between my shoulder and ear and yank my jeans on. “I need you to listen to me, Blaire. You need to cooperate with the police.” I swallow. “And I need you to stop trying to contact me.”
Not for me. I’m done caring about me. I’ve lost everything that matters—Blaire, my degree, my career, my self-respect. Blaire told me she loves me, but I’m not allowed to love her. I’m going down. There’s not much doubt there. I just want to keep Blaire as clear from the wreckage as possible.
Chris is folding up the couch when I step into the living room. He gives me a nod and a grimace, and I know he’s heard my half of the conversation.
I called him after Detective Diaz was here and told him everything. He’s been here every night since. It’s a nice gesture on his part, circling the wagons, but I really just needed to make sure he knows what needs to happen with rent and finances before this whole thing blows sky high and I’m not here to deal with it.
“Caiden—” Her voice chokes off on a sob. “No.”
“Listen, Blaire. Detective Diaz is right. There’s nothing either of us can do now to change whatever is going to happen, so stop trying to protect me.” I screw my eyes shut in a grimace as my next words burn on their way up my throat. “I made a mistake. This whole thing was a huge mistake.”
There’s a long silence where all I hear is Blaire’s shaky breath. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I never should have touched you.” I swallow the pulsing lump in the back of my throat so she won’t hear it in my words. “I’m saying I wish I never did.”
“You don’t mean that.” Her voice is low, and mixed into the pain I hear an undercurrent of anger.
Good.
I glance at Chris, but then away when it’s clear from his expression that hearing what I’m saying is almost as painful as saying it. “Christ, Blaire. Believe me, I do. I was stupid enough to let a firm ass and spectacular tits cloud my judgment.”
“Jesus, Cade,” Chris hisses and the same time Blaire says, “I thought—”
I cut them both off. “And it sure as hell didn’t help that you lied to me,” I tell her, hardening my wavering resolve.
My phone vibrates and I look at the screen. Mom.
When it rains, it fucking pours.
“I’ve got another call,” I tell Blaire before she can offer up any argument. “Don’t call me again.”
I click over and can’t dig a word out of the black tar of my soul to answer. I drop onto the couch and wait.
“Caiden?” Mom shrieks across the airwaves. “Are you there?”
“Is everything okay?” I finally manage.
“You tell me! The police were here earlier. They were asking questions about a seventeen-year-old girl they say you sodomized. They had video!”
Video. I feel the molten tar solidify and crack as all my insides freeze solid.
“What did you do!” she screeches.
And here we go. This is all the proof she needs that I’m my father. “I made a mistake.”
The truth is, maybe I’m more like him than I ever wanted to admit. He fucked a seventeen-year-old when he was forty. I’m twenty-five. A few years difference, but it’s all the same in the eyes of the law.
“A mistake?” she shrieks. “That’s what you call it? You sodomized a baby, Caiden! I suppose you’re going to do what your father did and tell me it was her fault? That she seduced you? You were a helpless victim?”
I close my eyes and loll my head onto the back of the sofa. “No, Mom. I’m no victim.”
“Well, I told the detective who showed me the video that it looked pretty clear cut to me. I told her she should arrest you.”
My heart lodges in my throat. I know it’s coming, but that’s still my body’s reaction anytime I think about it. “I think they were planning on it without your endorsement, but thanks for the support, Mom. I really appreciate it.”
There’s a pound on my door. Mom is still shrieking through the airwaves as Chris goes to answer it. I put the phone down and tug on a T-shirt, then pick it up when, on the other side of the door is Detective Diaz along with one of East Overton’s finest. The uniformed cop has his hand on the butt of his sidearm.
“Mom, I’ve got to go,” I say.
Detective Diaz steps past Chris, a pair of handcuffs in her hand. “You’ll need to end your call, Mr. Brenner.”
“Is that them?” Mom asks. “Are they arresting you?”