The Mistake

Havermouth, Five Years Before

“So…” Charlotte lingered in the backseat. She had pressed herself tight to the door, making herself as small as possible as they’d driven from the graveyard to where she said that she lived, a dingy house that hadn’t been modernized since its construction. Her shirt was mis-buttoned, the stain on the fabric over her heart was like an accusation, and the alcohol was wearing away, leaving her pale faced and teary. “Will I see you at school tomorrow?”

She knew the answer to the question, Heath thought with irritation. She had realized that she had been used when they’d hustled her from the graveyard abruptly in order to pursue Aislen. He wondered how Rhett had gone, whether he’d been successful in getting Aislen into the car, and he wanted to focus on what to do next, rather than the girl in the backseat.

“No, Charlotte,” he said. “We don’t do repeats. That’s it, you’re done. Say thanks for the good time and get the f-k out of the car.”

“You keep Aislen Cart