by Amy Brent
And his words rang deep in my brain as a smile crossed my face.
Just right. Just for me. All mine.
It confused me as to why that statement made me so happy. He slid from my back and rolled me over, cradling me close to him as our intermingled juices dripped from between my legs. I felt his fingertips dancing along my naked skin as he pulled a blanket up over us, and for the first time in a very long time, I had no idea what was going to happen next.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, what’s going to happen when we go back tomorrow?”
“Honestly, I’m leaving that up to you. I enjoy the time I spend with you. I enjoy our conversation and our extracurricular activities, but I know how you feel about this. About wanting to keep a safe distance from everything. So, whatever you choose, I’ll follow,” he said.
“I’m so confused about everything,” I said breathlessly.
“I know,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I know. I am, too, to tell you the truth.”
“What are you confused about?” I asked.
“Just how to handle all this. How to deal with Emma. How to keep you and dodge all this.”
“You want to keep me?”
“Like I said, I enjoy the time I spend with you. Is that so bad?”
“Not at all. I enjoy our time, too,” I said. “But maybe we should take some time away from one another.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Not like a month or anything, but maybe a couple of days. See if this all dies down. I could get in a couple of regular interviews, and you could do a bit with your business. Maybe the media will back off once they see we aren’t fraternizing in public together.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” he said.
“And after a couple days, we can talk. See where to go from there. It’ll help us clear our heads from the drama and, you know, think, I guess.”
“I can go along with that,” he said.
“Go along with it?” I asked, giggling.
“Yep. You’re at the helm with this one,” he said.
“I take it the Mason Baker isn’t used to that.”
“Not one damn bit. But, something tells me this is the right thing to do, and whatever gets us back here, I’m willing to do.”
“Well, it’s a four-hour car ride, a two-hour massage, a very nice—”
“You know what I mean,” he said, chuckling.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean.”
I pressed a kiss to his chest, and we both drifted off to sleep. I was dreading going back the next day, but I knew we had to. We had a plan in place, a goal in mind, and now it would just take the two of us sticking to the plan to make sure it was executed the way we wanted.
But my heart sank at the idea of not hearing from him for two days.
Which was odd, since I couldn’t wait to get him off my back before.
Chapter 30
Mason
Reluctantly, I drove Sarah back to the city. We drove the entire four-hour stretch without the top down, and I missed the feeling of it on my face. I missed the way Sarah smiled and laughed as the wind ripped through her hair, and I missed the way it lit up her entire body. The ride was somber. Like a death march back into the middle of a war zone. I felt like I was on a suicide mission, and the only thing I knew to do was take her hand to try and reassure her that everything would be all right.
For some reason, I really wanted to give her that.
I dropped her back off at the coffee shop I’d picked her up at. I watched her walk back toward her apartment, her shoulders drooped slightly as she shielded herself from the world. The press was still hanging around outside her apartment, forcing her to go in the back like a criminal on the run.
I sped off and headed straight for Emma’s. I needed to talk to her, even if we talked through her door. I needed her to understand how sorry I was and that she had no reason to be upset with Sarah. I’d take the fall for everything. I’d tell her it was my suggestion to keep this from her and that Sarah had only gone along with it.
It was the least I could do after all the shit that had blown up in our faces.
I pulled up to Emma’s townhome and took a few deep breaths. For some reason, I felt nervous, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. Tony kept ringing my phone, wanting me to pick up after dropping off the face of the earth. Text message after text message rolled through my phone, and finally, I decided to chuck my phone into the backseat of my car. There were more important things to deal with than my image as portrayed by the media, and I was looking right at it.
Emma had walked outside to pick up the newspaper and was looking right at me.
I got out of my car while she slowly backtracked. I hopped up onto the sidewalk as I saw her turn her back. She ran for the door as I strode after her, my entire body beckoning for her to just stay put. The door slammed in my face as I got up to it, and I immediately began banging my fist against it.
“Emma, please open up.”
“No,” she said.
“We need to talk.”
“No, thanks,” she said.
“Please, Emma. Please just give me one last chance.”
“You’ve had enough chances, you sleazebag.”
She was irate. I could hear it in her voice. I continued knocking on the door, hoping my incessant pandering would make her open up. Like calling Sarah repeatedly until she would finally answer her phone for me. I knocked until my fist was sore, and then I simply switched hands.
My sister hadn’t given up on me, and now was my chance to show her I wasn’t giving up on her.
“I could do this all day, Emma.”
“Just like you could do my best friend?”
She ripped the door open and connected her heated gaze with mine, and for the first time in my entire life, I had no idea what to say.
“Can I come in?” I asked.
“No.”
“Please? Just to talk.”
“What do you not understand about the word no?” she asked.
“Everything about it,” I said.
“Now I see what Sarah was talking about,” she said.
“And what’s that?”
“She said you kept bothering her even when she ignored your calls and told you no. I’m starting to realize what she was talking about.”
She turned away from the door but didn’t shut it in my face. I walked into her home and breathed in the scent of apples and oranges as I shut the door behind me. Emma had planted herself on the couch before letting out a massive sigh, and I saw that she was watching the news.
The news that kept flashing that fucking photograph of Sarah and me.
“You can’t be upset with Sarah,” I said.
“You don’t get to lie to me, hurt me, deceive me, and then tell me how I feel,” she said.
“It was my idea to keep this from you. Not hers,” I said.
“Lie number … hell, I don’t even know at this point. I’ve already talked to Sarah. I know it was her idea. Her suggestion. Thanks for not trying hard enough to talk her out of it,” she said.
“Emma, we didn’t know. When we first started this whole thing, we didn’t know that her best friend and my half-sister were the same person. I’m serious.”
“And when you did find out, you decided to hide it from me and play coy all Wednesday night. I feel like such an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot, Emma. We’re the idiots,” I said.
“You’re damn straight you are. I don’t like the fact that you two are together.”
“And why not?” I asked.
“Because you’re sleazy. Always have been.”
“You hardly know me,” I said. “Something I’m trying to change, by the way.”
“What? Me not knowing you or the sleaziness?” she asked.
“Both,” I guess.
“So, you admit you’re sleazy?”
“Sarah’s got her own shit to deal with without you coming into the picture and messing her up further.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Emma, what are you talking about? What’s happened with Sarah?”
“What the fuck do you care?” she asked.
“Because I do!”
I yelled louder than I ever intended to, and it scared Emma right off her couch. Her eyes were wide and filling with tears as I clenched my fists. I could feel my entire body trembling as I stood there in the middle of her home. What had happened to Sarah? Was she all right?
“You’ll have to ask her if you want to know,” Emma said breathlessly. “I may be pissed at her, but I’d never betray her like that. Ever.”
“I just want you to forgive me, Emma. I want to try and get to know my sister a little bit,” I said.
“And a few days ago, I was all for it, but now that I understand you’re still capable of lying and deceiving me, that comes with a condition.”
“Emma, don’t.”
“You want to get to know me? You make up with Mom,” she said.
“Emma, that’s not happening,” I said.
“Then you don’t get me.”
“Come on. This is nuts.”
“This entire thing is nuts. The only person in my life I ever truly trusted lied to me about dating when I told her it was a shit idea when it turns out the person she’s screwing is my sleazebag, lying sack of shit brother who’s broken my heart more times than I could imagine. And then, I had to find out by seeing a photo plastered of the two of them about to suck face in a restaurant parking lot.”
“That photo was obtained illegally, and maybe if you supported Sarah in her need to step out and find some sort of companionship so she doesn’t feel so alone, she wouldn’t feel the need to keep it from you,” I exclaimed.
Emma was panting for breath as tears poured over the surface of her cheeks. My fists were clenching so hard I could feel my fingernails digging into my palms. I stood rooted in place, determined to hash this thing out with Emma. I didn’t care if she wanted a relationship with me anymore. I wasn’t going to allow her to throw her relationship away with Sarah over this.
Not because of me.
“Sh-she’s lonely?” Emma asked.
“More than you could ever imagine,” I said. “She’ll never say it. She’ll never admit to weakness because of her pride. But she is. We-we both are. Were. I don’t know anymore.”
I turned my back and raked my hand through my hair. I had no idea how to piece this back together anymore. All I could do was offer up the only truth I knew.
My own.
“I’ll get over things with Sarah,” she said. “I just get to be mad about it for a while. But you. You need to see Mom.”
“I’m not fucking seeing that woman,” I said.
“Well, you should.”
“And why’s that?” I asked as I spun around.
“Because she has cancer.”
The word hit me like a ton of bricks. Cancer?
My mother had cancer?
“Is she?”
“She’s not dying. Not yet, anyway. It’s her second battle with it,” Emma said.
“Her second?”
“Yeah. First, it was breast cancer a few years back. Now it’s liver.”
“She has liver cancer,” I said.
“She does. You should go see her. It’s been years, Mason. And I’ve watched the wonderful woman who raised me tear herself to pieces over whatever it was that happened between you two.”
“She left,” I said.
“She did. Did she ever tell you why?”
“No. She wouldn’t even take my fucking calls,” I said.
“Why don’t you come with me? You can ask her,” she said.
“I don’t know if I can,” I said.
“Then grow a pair of balls and meet me at my car. I’ll drive us.”
I stood there in the hallway of her townhome for what seemed like ages before I drew in a deep breath. I straightened up my coat before I turned and walked out the door, heading for Emma’s Jeep as I shut the door behind me. The drive to her childhood home was long and winding. I had no idea what town we were in or how far away from Dallas we were, but by the time we pulled up into the driveway of a modest two-story home, I could see the tears twinkling in Emma’s eyes again.
“Just brace yourself,” she said as she parked the car.
Without another word, we headed into the house. A dog came rushing to my feet, sniffing at my shoes and jumping up onto my leg. Emma scooped the dog up and held it close as we walked all the way to the back of the house, bypassing a pristine kitchen that didn’t look like it’d been used in years.
We walked out onto a screen porch where a frail woman was sitting in a rocking chair, but even with her stringy hair and her protruding shoulder blades, I recognized her.
Her scent.
Her presence.
It was my mother, and she was withering away.
“Hey, Mom,” Emma said as she crouched down beside her. “How’re you doing today?”
“Better than most,” she said weakly. “Not sleeping as much, so I’m getting to enjoy the view of the backyard.”
It was littered with trees and flowers and butterflies. Her backyard was alive with health and beauty and colors. It was as if someone had dropped a secret gateway to Eden in her backyard, and I stood in awe of it as Emma looked up at me.
“I brought someone to see you,” Emma said.
“Oh, really? Please tell me it’s a handsome male friend of yours. You’ve been alone for far too long, pining over that asshole you can’t seem to let go.”
I smiled at my mother’s statement. She was always so full of fire and determination. Even in her frail state, her tongue spoke thunderous words of truth I couldn’t help but side with.
“She’s right,” I said as I walked up to her. “You’ve been pining over that loser for far too long.”
I heard her suck in a sharp bout of air as I walked around to face her.
“Hey there, Mom.”
Her eyes looked up at me. Eyes I saw in the mirror every time I looked at myself in the morning. Tears fell from her face as her jaw began to quiver, and I crouched down in front of her, so I could take her hand and bring it to my lips. She was cold. And clammy. Every bone in her body could be seen and her veins protruded from underneath her skin. I closed my eyes as she cupped my cheek, a tear slipping out and tumbling over her skin.
How I’d missed the touch of my own mother.
“My sweet boy,” she said breathlessly. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful boy.”
“Why did you leave, Mom?” I asked. “Why did you not come back for me?”
I raised my eyes to hers as another tear slipped from my gaze. Both of her hands cupped my cheeks, brushing the tears away I’d refused to cry for so many years. I’d hated her. I’d hated everything about her. Everything in my life was fueled by my hatred for this woman that was withering away right before my very eyes.
And yet her stare boasted of a strength I’d only ever seen in one other person.
Sarah.
Sarah reminded me of my mother.
“I loved your father so much,” she said.
“Then why’d you leave, Mom?” I asked.
“Because love isn’t all it takes to make a marriage work,” she said.
“I don’t understand.”
“A marriage takes commitment. Dedication. Patience. Perseverance. It takes compromise to a point where you no longer believe you could compromise any more of yourself. It takes a will to want to make things work. It takes a dedication that is sometimes blinded by the very rage you have toward the person you claim to love. Mason, it takes more than love to make a marriage work. And your father and I, we didn’t have it.”
“Then why didn’t you take me with you? Why didn’t you talk to me? Or come back to see me?” I asked.
“You wouldn’t take my calls. You were so angry, and I couldn’t blame you. You were settled into your schools, and you had your friends already established. You were a thriving sixteen-year-old boy. I couldn’t yank you from your life like that. Stick you in another school halfway through your high school career. What kind of mother would that have made me?” she asked.
“Why didn’t you pick up the phone whenever I called? Why didn’t you call me back?” I asked.
“Did your father not tell you?” she asked.
“Tell me what?”
“The agreement between us was to split all of your costs down the middle. Fifty-fifty. The only job I could find was working third shift in a factory. I couldn’t ever call at a decent hour, so I took to writing you letters. Did you not get my letters?”
“No. I-I never got any letters,” I said.
“Well, your father’s never been perfect,” she said as she dropped her hands.
“You wrote me letters?” I asked.
“Every morning after I got off work. I’d get them in the mail before I went to bed to sleep before my next shift.”