Page 9 of One Little Mistake

Max

My conversation with Vivienne stirred up memories I hadn’t touched in years.

Memories of a time when all I ever wanted was to be chosen.

I used to watch other kids at the orphanage get taken away by new parents—led off to a place the caretakers said was so much better—and I wanted that too.

I wanted to know what it felt like to have a mom and dad, the way every kid in that place dreamed of.

I never asked Helga and Steven why they chose me, or who that boy in their photo album was—the one they’ve kept safe for all these years.

To me, they became Mom and Dad the moment I stepped into their home, and I’ve always been grateful for everything they gave me.

Elena, born a few years after my adoption, still has no idea that we’re not related by blood.

I grew up in a loving home, got a good education, and turned out okay. It’s honestly terrifying to imagine what could’ve happened if I’d stayed in that place until I aged out.

I don’t manage to fall asleep until morning. When I do finally wake up, it’s abrupt—like someone shoved me. I check my phone, drag myself out of bed, and start walking through the apartment. On the way to the shower, I stop in front of what is now the nursery.

I hesitate. Then I give in, turn the handle, and peek inside.

The giant plush bear is still staring at me reproachfully, and I wince.

“Don’t even try to guilt-trip me. I’m not falling for it,” I mutter, not breaking eye contact with the stuffed toy.

Something about this room—and the stillness in the whole apartment—makes my skin crawl. I quickly shut the door and back away.

The whole day drags by. I can’t figure out what to do with myself.

Back when I was married, every minute of my time off was accounted for. Family visits, trips, shopping malls, dinners out—Cynthia hated staying home. I got used to that lifestyle, even though all I really wanted sometimes was just a quiet day in.

After the divorce, Elena—being the little sister and all—took it upon herself to pull me out of my post-marriage slump.

I tolerated her daily drop-ins, doing my best not to blow up and slam the door in her face.

But when she suddenly moved to another city for school, I realized just how much I missed the chaos.

If it hadn’t been for Elena, I’m not sure where I’d be now. Maybe I’d have ended up bonding with Kevin from the first floor—the guy who hits the 24/7 liquor store every morning at dawn. And that would’ve definitely been the end of me.

That evening, I finally try to find this mysterious Aspen Creek on the map.

Turns out, it’s nearly two hundred miles away.

I quickly decide it’s way easier to drive to the hospital and unlock her phone with her Face ID than to spend an entire day on the road—not even knowing if anyone’s actually living at her registered address.

Either way, someone in her family needs to know what happened. Assuming she even has family. I’ve been holding on to her phone all day, hoping someone would call, but the screen stayed dark. Looks like there’s no one out there worried about her. A whole week has gone by.

The next morning, I head to the hospital at sunrise. Big mistake—her doctor doesn’t show up until nine. When he finally arrives, he recognizes me right away and leads me to my “wife’s” room.

I hesitate outside the door. Not sure why I suddenly feel anxious. I take a few deep breaths and grip the handle.

There are two beds inside. The red hair is hard to miss. I slowly walk over to Erin.

There’s an IV line in her arm and tubes in her nose.

Her breathing is shallow—her chest rising and falling so slowly it’s like she’s barely hanging on.

She looks pale, fragile, like all the color’s been drained out of her.

The girl I met—rosy, lively, with a sharp stare and quick hands flipping pancakes—is gone.

Now there’s just… this.

I stand by her bed for a while, just staring at her face. I don’t even know why I came—well, that’s a lie. I came to unlock the damn phone. But the reality of how fast life can fall apart has me frozen.

Just a week ago, she was probably counting the days until her baby arrived. And now? No one even knows if she’ll make it.

And despite the fact that this girl is a complete stranger, my chest aches for her. Genuinely. Because what she’s facing is terrifying. And because I’ve been there—I get it. I wouldn’t wish this kind of helplessness on anyone.

I stare at her hand; Long fingers, thin wrist. I don’t blink, willing her to move—just a twitch. Maybe she’s just sleeping? It’s not impossible, right?

I sigh, shove my hands in my pockets, and walk over to the window. My eyes land on the drab building across the way, and for a moment, I forget where I even am.

There’s this stupid part of me—the part that won’t shut up—pushing me to do something noble. Call in the best doctors in the country, demand the real truth, make something happen. Save her.

And then there’s the baby.

Yeah. Someone’s gotta figure out what the hell to do with him, too.

I need to find her family. Fast. Otherwise, I’m going to do something stupid.

I cross the room in a few quick strides and stop beside Erin again. Pulling her phone from my pocket, I bring it close to her face and unlock it with.

The sooner I hand Erin over to her parents, the sooner I’ll start sleeping at night.

The lock screen lights up, and the first thing I do is reset the passcode. Then I go straight to her contacts and search for anyone labeled “Mom”.

Nothing.

“Dad”.

No results.

“Mommy. Father. Dearest Mom. Mama”.

Nada.

Eventually, I give up and just scroll through her entire contact list, hoping to spot someone with her last name. Still nothing.

I open her messaging app. A few texts from clients. A couple from Vivienne. Not a single message from family. Not even from a close friend.

I finally find that Max guy—only to be disappointed again. According to the app, he hasn’t been online in ages.

I glance back at Erin. Then lower myself into the chair beside her bed.

Before I even realize it, I’m tapping out some strange rhythm on my knee, nerves getting the better of me.

“Who are you, mysterious stranger who just dropped into my life?” I whisper, my eyes fixed on the slow, steady rhythm of her heartbeat on the monitor.

Then I suddenly straighten up and leave the room. No point in putting this off any longer.

With quick strides, I cross the hospital lobby and push through the front doors.

A sharp gust of wind cuts through my jacket, making me shiver.

I yank my hood over my head and head straight for the parking lot.

Once in the car, I punch the name of her town into the GPS, silently praying that a five-hour drive won’t end at some broken-down shack in the middle of nowhere.

But honestly, what other choice do I have? Her flower shop’s been closed for weeks according to her last social media post, which means I won’t find any employees to talk to. No one to fill in the blanks. No one to explain how this woman ended up in my apartment, in my life.

It’s like Erin’s a ghost—seen only by me and the handful of people caught in her orbit. She showed up out of nowhere and vanished just as suddenly, leaving behind a trail of questions with no answers.

A thick fog settles over the highway, forcing me to ease off the gas. At this pace, I’m not sure I’ll make it back home tonight—but weirdly, I don’t mind. The drive gives me something to do. A break from the endless stretch of nothing.

That’s the downside of my job. You work like a machine for six months straight, no weekends, no breaks—and then suddenly, you’ve got all the time in the world and no idea what the hell to do with it. Especially when you live alone and keep relationships at arm’s length.

Of course, the weather decides to throw a full-on tantrum. What should’ve been a three-hour trip drags out to five. When I finally roll into Aspen Creek, I pull off onto the shoulder of a narrow, uneven road to check the directions. A wave of doubt hits me hard.

What if this is another dead end?

What if I drive all the way out here just to turn around again?

Can I really go back to my life like nothing ever happened?

My hands grip the steering wheel tighter as I turn off onto a dirt path. A line of old houses greets me—some boarded up, some barely standing. Hope starts to slip away again.

But then I see it.

A well-kept house with a real roof and trimmed hedges. The number matches.

I exhale, finally allowing myself to relax.

Well… here goes nothing.

I step out of the car and make my way toward the house. A scruffy black mutt comes charging at me, baring its teeth in what I guess is supposed to be a threatening growl, though its size makes the whole act kind of ridiculous. I let out a quiet chuckle.

Scanning the yard, I silently hope someone spots me. Relief washes over me when an elderly woman appears on the porch at the sound of barking.

“Who’s there?” she squints, calming the dog with a flick of her hand.

“I’m here about Erin,” I call out, raising my voice, already bracing myself for the dreaded reply that no one here knows who that is.

Her brows knit together as she tosses a shawl over her shoulders and walks toward me.

“Did something happen?” she asks, her eyes searching mine with genuine worry. I hesitate. Dropping a bomb like she’s in the ICU isn’t exactly how I want to introduce myself to her family. But of course, I get the honor of delivering the bad news.

“No, everything’s fine,” I lie, glancing away and pretending to study the red shingles on the roof, avoiding her faded blue eyes. “I just wanted to speak with her parents. Are they home?”

“Her mama’s overseas,” she replies with a short pause. Not a word about her father. “And who exactly are you to our Erin?” she adds, cautious now.

“I’m… a friend. Max.”

Surprise flashes across her wrinkled face, quickly replaced by a warm, welcoming smile. She looks me over from head to toe, then nods approvingly.

“Well, I’m Mrs. Hoover, Erin’s grandma. But you can call me Margaret. She’s told me all about you.” Her eyes soften even more. “Didn’t know you were back, Max. Come in, come in.” She nudges the little mutt out of the way—it keeps trying to latch onto my leg. “So… where is my granddaughter?”

Her eyes wander to my car, clearly expecting Erin to step out of it any second. And that’s when the guilt hits me. How do I tell this sweet old woman that Erin’s been unconscious in intensive care for a week?

“She… she gave birth,” I start slowly, “and she’s still at the hospital for now.”

“Oh, bless her heart!” Margaret clasps her hands together in joy. “Come on in, Max. You can tell me everything. Is the baby healthy? Who does he look like?”

“Yes,” I reply shortly, without much detail. Then I reluctantly follow Mrs. Hoover into the house.

On my way here, I didn’t really think through what I was going to say to Erin’s family.

Well—scratch that—I had planned to walk in and drop the bomb about her condition right away, but turns out that’s easier said than done.

Now I’m sitting here, completely unsure how to start.

And the worst part? There’s still no one to take the baby home.

I seriously doubt this seventy-something woman could handle an infant on her own.

“Sit down, Max, make yourself comfortable,” Mrs. Hoover says warmly. “I’ll put the kettle on. Baked a pie with homemade jam this morning. Something told me I’d have company.”

The house is modest, but clean and cozy. A newer microwave and electric kettle look out of place against the backdrop of well-worn cabinets and a crocheted table runner. I rest my arms on the table and sneak a look at the time. It’s getting dark soon, and I’ve still got a long drive back.

While Mrs. Hoover moves around the kitchen, fussing over the teapot, I glance around the tiny room, trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do next. Do I tell her the truth or not?

“Erin didn’t talk much about her family,” I start cautiously. “From what I understand, it’s just her mom and you?”

“Her daddy left a long time ago. She doesn’t remember him,” Mrs. Hoover replies with a sigh. “My daughter and I raised her together. Ellie’s been working overseas for years, and we stayed here. Erin grew up so fast… sometimes I can’t believe it.”

Her eyes glisten with tears, and as she reminisces, the deep lines on her face seem to soften.

“Hard to believe my little girl is a mother now. Feels like just yesterday she was running barefoot through the yard.”

“When is her mother coming back?” I ask after a short pause. “Erin’s probably gonna need help with the baby.”

“Probably by summer. Ellie wanted to be here for the birth, but Erin talked her out of it. Said she’d manage.

Ellie’s met a good man over there, might even get married soon.

Erin didn’t want to pull her away from that.

And honestly, it’s about time. Poor girl’s almost fifty and still hasn’t caught a break.

Would be nice to see her finally happy for once. ”

She shakes her head and lets out a long breath.

I answer her questions about my relationship with Erin in short, vague replies. I don’t deny being “that Max,” but I don’t confirm it either. And when Mrs. Hoover asks why Erin hasn’t called, I lie and say she lost her phone right before the delivery—but wanted to send her love.

I just can’t bring myself to say out loud what kind of shape Erin’s actually in.

I ask for her mother’s number, tell her it’s just in case, and do my best to dodge the idea of staying the night.

Mrs. Hoover looks disappointed, and honestly, I get it. She probably spends most of her days alone. Her daughter’s far away, caught up in her own life abroad, and Erin was off trying to make something of herself in the big city. No one really has time for an old woman anymore.

The drive back feels longer than ever. My head is pounding, and my mind’s all over the place. On one hand, I’m relieved—at least there’s someone who could take the baby if it came down to it. But on the other hand, the thought of this sweet, worn-out family going through a tragedy guts me.

And the kid… damn, I can’t help but feel sorry for him. So new to the world, and already on the brink of losing it all.