Page 85 of When We Are Complete

Putting the car into gear, the tires spin as I press the gas. I barely make it a few yards before the wheels skid and lurch, sinking into a snowbank with a final, unforgiving crunch.

I try to reverse, but the wheels only spin in place, digging me deeper into the icy trap. My heart pounds as I scan the seat beside me, the dash, everywhere for my phone—only to remember it’s gone, lost when I stumbled through the festival grounds.

Cold seeps through my coat, wrapping around me, and fear coils in my stomach.

I’m alone, the storm closing in, and I’ve only got myself to blame.

Chapter 49

Jake

I pullup outside Jenny’s mom’s house. It’s dark inside, but I’m relieved to see smoke rising from the chimney. I’m holding on to this thread of hope that I’ll be able to get through to Adele, and then I’ll make it to Kelly at her apartment before the next storm hits. But I’m running out of time.

I close my eyes, a memory washing over me. I watched her go once before, the winter sun catching in the shine of her dark hair as it whipped in the breeze, her shoulders hunched, her hand wiping at her eyes.

That day I ended things after I found out about Jenny, the pain made it hard to breathe, made it hard to do anything. I wanted to run after her, to tell her that I didn’t mean it, that I’d give anything to hold her, to keep her beside me forever. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let her get tangled up in a baby for fuck’s sake. We’d just finished high school.

She deserved better than that, better than me. Kelly had her whole future in front of her—college, career, every dream she’dever talked about with her Mom looking on proudly, and she deserved to chase them without me and my mistakes.

And Jenny—she was pregnant with my child. I couldn’t walk away from that, couldn’t let my own kid grow up without me there, wondering why I hadn’t stuck around. My dad taught me better than that. Responsibility meant something. Following through. Even if it meant letting go of the best damn thing that had ever happened to me.

As I watched Kelly disappear down the path leading away from the lighthouse all those years ago, my stomach twisted, my heart breaking clean in two. The pain was physical, a gnawing, relentless hurt that wouldn’t let go. I was being gutted from the inside out.

And that feeling is back, just as raw and intense as it was the first time. My eyes blink open and I tell myself to get a fucking grip, to stop wallowing and get inside and see my daughter.

Before I can even knock, the door swings open, and Jenny’s mom stands there, giving me a sympathetic look. Her eyes are tired, and she’s rugged up in winter clothes.

“Hey, Jake,” she says quietly. “Quite the storm. You and the Valiant Hearts did a great job yesterday. Come on in.”

I swallow hard. “Thanks, Nancy.”

I shed my jacket, gloves, beanie and boots and leave them by the front door. Inside the darkened house, Jenny’s waiting, arms crossed, worry written all over her face. She meets my eye, nodding briefly.

“I appreciate you coming given the storm. I wanted Adele to know we both support her. I hoped things would calm down, but it looks as though the principal shared the screenshots with one of the parents, and they told their kids that we were the ones that reported it. There’s a lot of online abuse coming her way, but they’re talking about her without naming her, calling her fat, ugly, and worse. I’ve taken her phone away but she’s distraught.”

I grit my teeth. “I thought this was going to end when the principal got involved.”

Jenny’s mouth thins, her eyes flashing. “We’re fighting shadows. They just keep finding ways to hurt her, and Adele thinks no one understands. I tried to comfort her, but she needs her dad.”

“Thanks for calling me. Let me try to talk to her.”

I step into the living room, and the sight of Adele curled up on the couch, sobbing, almost undoes me. I kneel down beside her, keeping my voice soft. “Hey, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Adele barely looks up, her face red and blotchy, eyes swollen. “Dad, just don’t,” she manages, voice thick with tears. She buries her face back in the pillow. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. Please, tell me what I can do.”

She shakes her head, clutching the pillow. “You don’t get it, Dad. You can’t fix it. It’s everywhere. Everyone at school is talking about me on chat.” Her voice catches, and she sounds so broken, so hurt.

I grit my teeth, anger flaring. “This isn’t right. We’ll go back to the principal. I’ll go to the school board if we have to. They can’t just let this go on.”

“Just stop!” She shouts the words, the intensity of her anger taking me by surprise. “I don’t need you todoanything.”

A heaviness settles in my chest as I remain kneeling. She wipes her eyes, her face still streaked with tears. Outside, the storm continues to intensify.

And it hits me what a failure I’ve been.

I really don’t know how to be what she needs. What Kelly needs. What anyone needs. I’ve tried, but that’s not good enough. Adele and Kelly both deserve someone stronger. Someone who gets it. Someone who is capable and can actually sort through all this shit. Because I’m failing Adele, just like I’m failing Kelly.

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