That just makes me feel even worse, and I start full-on sobbing.
“My baby girl.” My dad cries into my hair as my mom navigates the minivan in front of the house. “How could this happen?”
“I’m so sorry, Daddy!”
“Come inside before the neighbors see.” My mom motions us in. “They’ll think someone died.”
“At least then someone might bring some food over,” Gran complains as we troop into the house.
“I’ll heat up some casserole. Go sit on the couch, Mandy.” My mom bustles to the kitchen.
“She doesn’t need casserole. She needs alcohol.” Gran heads to the wet bar.
I drop onto the couch next to my still-weeping father, who cradles me to his chest.
“I feel awful, like absolute dirt.” I sniffle.
“You’re not dirt. You’re my little girl.” There are tears in his mustache. “Why didn’t you tell me, Mandy? I could have helped you.”
I grimace. “I just thought I could handle it, or it would go away… until it didn’t.”
“What did I do wrong? Why were you afraid to tell me?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Daddy.”
“Did you think we wouldn’t believe you about Jaxon?” The heartbreak on his face is ruining me.
“You didn’t think we’d believe you?” My mom hurries back into the living room with a steaming plate of fish casserole. “My own daughter? You think I wouldn’t believe my own daughter?”
“I was… I don’t know, embarrassed, and I was worried you’d do something crazy.”
“Damn right, I’d do something crazy,” my dad insists, scowling. “Get my Weedwacker.”
“But you saw what happened.” I’m crying again. “Jaxon does this—he twists every situation in his favor. You can’t win against him.”
Jess is concerned. “He’s still out there. Jaxon was clearly hamming it up for the ambulance. I bet the hospital released him already. Is he going to come after you?”
“We need to fortify the house likeWorld War Z,” Lauren insists.
“Maybe you need to go get Salinger back,” Amy suggests. “He’s the only person who’s done anything to stop Jaxon.”
“No need.” Gran puffs up. “I’m buying a gun.”
“Gran, please, no.”
“Take me to Walmart, Patrick. I’m going gun shopping. Where’s my purse?”
Jess sets her laptop on my lap. “On a brighter note, I think I found Pepper.” She shows me a picture of my corgi on the animal control website.
“Oh, poor Pepperoni.” Lauren and Amy coo over the picture of the dog.
“You need to go right now! But please take a shower first,” Lauren says. “They don’t give homeless people their animals back.”
My dad hovers around me as I haul myself off the couch. The tequila is really starting to kick in.
My phone dings with an incoming email. My heart leaps.
“Is it Salinger?” Amy asks.
