I Need You Tonight

by Stina Lindenblatt

  And had I waited a few more weeks before looking, I might never have known—the obituary long since buried way down on the search-engine page. Fortunately, because Dell was a common last name and I had been estranged from my family well before Pushing Limits was formed, I didn’t have to worry about the media finding out about my father. Not unless a family friend or relative leaked it. My father’s memory didn’t need to be caught up in the media circus that would no doubt follow.

  Nicole didn’t say anything at first. She took my hand and held on to it, sharing her own strength with me. “What do you need from me, Mason? I love you, and whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

  The emotion behind her words almost knocked me over. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had loved me enough to care about me. At least not since her brother stepped in and saved my sorry ass. For years the guys in the band had known me as the prankster, the guy you didn’t take too seriously. That was the man I had pretended to be when I checked out of rehab. It had been easier that way once I’d realized how alone I really was. Even Zack hadn’t been around at that point. He had been stationed on the other side of the country.

  I wrapped Nicole in my arms and held her for a few minutes. “Thank you,” I whispered, emotion clogging my words. I kissed the top of her head, doing my best to keep things together. Nicole didn’t need to know the truth: how I felt like a wild animal had clawed me from the inside out and left me to bleed to death.

  She glanced up at me, her beautiful face filled with sincerity. I kissed her mouth, but mere kissing didn’t fill the cavernous void inside me, and I pulled her onto the bed….

  Once our breaths had finally returned to normal and the memory of my father’s death broke through the euphoria-induced haze, I grabbed my phone. After the concert tonight I could take a red-eye to L.A., then grab a flight after my father’s funeral to Atlantic City, where we were playing the following night.

  But I couldn’t do it alone.

  “I’m going home after the concert tonight to attend his funeral tomorrow,” I said. It was the least I could do to show that I still loved him, even though he had been unable to love me in the end. That had all been my fault, not his. “Would you go with me?”

  “Of course.” She stroked her fingers against my jaw.

  I grasped hold of her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Thank you.”

  Without her, I would never survive tomorrow. Now I just had to hope bringing her with me wasn’t a big mistake—one I would forever regret.

  Chapter 25

  Nicole

  The twenty-four hours after Mason discovered his father’s obituary rushed by in a blur. After learning of his father’s death, Mason had become more restless than he’d been the first day back on tour—back when I had kissed him before the show. How he made it through the concert last night was beyond me.

  As it was, none of the guys in the band knew about his father. His rationale for keeping quiet about it was that he didn’t want to worry them. So instead he told them simply that he needed to fly back home and would join them in time for the concert in Atlantic City.

  Based on the weird looks the guys kept shooting me before we left, it was clear they didn’t suspect the real reason he was leaving. Although I wouldn’t have been surprised if they thought we were flying off to Vegas to get hitched.

  Mason parked his car in the funeral home parking lot, not far from the entrance to the squat brick building. Unlike in the movies, where it often rained during funerals, as if the heavens also were in mourning, the sun shone down from the faded blue sky. Despite the lack of rain for the past few weeks, the lawn and decorative flower garden on either side of the building looked fresh and inviting—or would, under any other circumstance.

  Mason cut the engine but made no move to leave the car. He just sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the stream of people in black suits and dresses filing into the building. Tension and sadness sat between us. I reached out and threaded my fingers with his. My heart broke seeing him like this. I remembered how lost I’d felt when Zack and I buried our mother. All I knew about Mason and his family was that they were no longer on speaking terms, but I didn’t know why. I had no idea how to ask him, and this wasn’t the right time to try to get him to open up. He needed me to support him. The rest could come later, when he was ready.

  “It’s going to be okay, Mason.”

  He tore his gaze from the front entrance, and my heart broke some more at the sorrow in his eyes. “How can you be so sure?” he asked.

  That was the thing—I couldn’t. I had no idea what demons he was facing by being back here, other than they were big enough that he didn’t wish to deal with them alone when he was at his most vulnerable.

  “You just need to take small steps,” I said. “Go in there and say goodbye to your father. Otherwise you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.”

  The moment I said the words, I realized how true they were. My father had died a few years ago. Suicide. A side effect of his gambling addiction. Zack had been away on a mission, and I couldn’t bear the idea of facing the man—even if he was dead—to say goodbye. He had hurt my mother and he had hurt Zack and me, and I had let the pain block out the happy memories of him from before our lives took a turn for the worse.

  And now a part of me regretted that decision. Despite everything, he had been my father and I had loved him. I was only understanding that now.

  “After you say goodbye to him,” I said, “then we can leave if you want.”

  Mason thought about it for a second, then nodded. “And you’ll stay with me?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “I do.” He glanced back at the funeral home and nodded again, this time with a little more conviction. “Whatever happens in there, thank you for coming here with me…and thank you for not asking any questions. I promise I’ll explain everything another time. When I feel brave enough. I just can’t deal with it now.”

  He turned his head back to me, and the vulnerability in his eyes brought the sting of tears to mine. “Okay.” I reached out and lightly squeezed his hand, which was gripping the steering wheel.

  He loosened his hold on it, then exited the car and waited for me to join him. Once out of the car, I straightened the short black dress I had bought yesterday afternoon in New York City for the funeral. The outfit, with the ballet flats, was simple and classy enough for a funeral. Mason also looked good. Unlike me, he’d been able to go home before heading here and change into one of his black suits.

  He slipped his fingers between mine, and we joined the mourners heading into the building. A gentle sob broke out behind me, bringing tears to my own eyes. It didn’t matter that I’d never met Mason’s father or didn’t know anything about him. It was enough that his death touched so many people who had known him.

  At the dark wooden doors leading into the building, Mason came to an abrupt halt, and part of me was grateful for that. The memory of the last time I’d been in a funeral home was still too fresh and I could barely breathe, so I imagined how much worse it was for Mason. I had at least been there for my mother during her final days. She’d died knowing I loved her.

  My palms grew damp, but despite how much I longed to turn and run, I couldn’t. The man I loved needed me to help him get through this. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to encourage him to keep going, but before the words could form, Mason resumed walking.

  Inside the building, the cloying scents of a large white floral wreath, burning candles, and furniture polish greeted us. I was instantly transported back to my mother’s funeral, except in her case the wreath had been much smaller, because Zack and I couldn’t afford the size she had deserved. I closed my eyes against the sob building in my chest. She died five years ago, I reminded myself. She’s not the one lying in the coffin.

  Organ music spilled from the open doorway, beckoning us to enter—or maybe it was warning us that we should leave while we still could.

>   We stepped into the room. The beautiful yet haunting melody was now accompanied by the murmur of hushed voices with occasional sobs and sniffles. I scanned the rows of seats, searching for a spot to sit. The chapel was crowded, with well over a hundred people already seated, leaving us with few options.

  I was about to ask Mason if he wanted to sit up front, where some empty seats still remained, possibly for family members, when I noticed his gaze was fixed on something ahead of us. I couldn’t tell if he was looking at the closed coffin with the massive red and green floral arrangement on it or at the two men standing up front.

  A man a few years older than Mason was talking to a man with gray hair. As if sensing us standing there, the younger man looked in our direction and scowled. Mason stiffened and his hand tightened its hold on mine.

  The man, who looked too similar to Mason to be anyone but his brother or other close relative, continued glaring as he walked toward us. My breath became shallow, my heartbeat rapid. I wasn’t one for confrontations, especially in a funeral home with so many people there to pay their final respects. I had a bad feeling in my gut that nothing good could come from us being here.

  “You have some nerve coming here, Mason,” the man said. The intensity of the anger in his voice forced me to take a step back. Mason didn’t so much as flinch.

  People sitting near the front turned in our direction or peered over their shoulders. Some were also frowning at us, but I couldn’t tell if that was because Mason was here or because they sensed a fight was about to break out.

  “I have every right to be here. He was my father as much as he was yours,” Mason said, his voice low and dangerous. I had a feeling I was the only one who could hear the edge of hurt in it, but that was because I had seen how broken he’d been upon finding out that his father had died, how torn up he’d been when he realized no one had told him his father had been battling cancer. It wouldn’t have been hard to track Mason down. They could have contacted his recording label and had them tell him.

  “You lost the right years ago,” the man said.

  “So you’re telling me I can’t even say goodbye to my own father?”

  The man scoffed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You fucked up his life, and now that he’s dead, you want forgiveness.”

  A muscle in Mason’s jaw twitched. It was a look I wasn’t used to seeing on him, and one I’d be happy never to witness again. “That’s not true. I contacted him numerous times and apologized. I did whatever I could to make everything up to him. He was the one who walked away, not me.”

  For the first time since I’d met him, the Mason standing next to me was nothing like the man I’d fallen in love with. That man was filled with passion and life. This Mason was a mask of the real man.

  “Why are you here, Mason?” a petite woman with graying strands in her short, curly black hair said as she came toward us. Her eyes were red from crying and her mascara had smudged beneath them. I shivered at the chill in her tone and at the way she glared at Mason, like she wished it were his body in the coffin instead of the man who was currently there.

  “I wanted to pay my respects, Mama.” Mason’s voice was noticeably softer now, but also wary.

  “You don’t belong here,” she said, voice shrill and easily heard by everyone in the chapel. “Leave before I get security to remove you.”

  What the hell had Mason done to deserve this? They were acting like he had killed someone. Obviously I didn’t know the history behind all this, but that didn’t prevent me from wanting to comfort the vulnerable man standing beside me, his hands shaking.

  “Look,” I said, somehow finding my voice, even if it did sound rusty from lack of use, “he’s sorry for what he did, and he just wants a chance to say goodbye to the man who raised him. He flew all the way from New York City last night to do that. Can’t you just give him a chance?”

  The woman turned her chilly regard on me. This time I stood my ground, ready to do whatever was necessary to defend him.

  “I don’t want you or your…your hussy here,” she bit out. “It’s as simple as that.”

  “Nicole isn’t a hussy,” Mason said, his words strong and certain. He might’ve been hurting from everything else, but his love for me pushed that aside for the moment. “She’s a sweet and loving woman, and no matter what you may think of me, she doesn’t deserve to be called that.”

  The way his mother studied me warned me that no matter what either Mason or I said, she would see me as someone I wasn’t. She would see me as someone well beneath her.

  “Son,” a man said behind me, “you should leave.”

  I turned to find a cop standing there. Great—they had called the police to have him removed. Unlike with Mason’s mother and the other man, the cop’s tone was free of anger. If anything, it held a note of compassion.

  Mason nodded, the fight now burned out of him. His head dropped forward slightly and he made a move to leave. I tried to blink away the tears threatening to fall, but one broke free. I sniffed and wiped it away as we walked out of the chapel and through the main doors.

  “I’m sorry, Mason,” the cop said once we were outside. I started at hearing him use Mason’s name. “I’m sorry no one told you about your father. And I’m sorry ’bout what happened in there.”

  Seeing the confused expression on my face, Mason said, “Nicole, this is my uncle T.J.”

  “Nice to meet you,” the hulking man said, holding out his beefy hand for me to shake.

  “Nice to meet you too,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice I was trembling slightly from what had transpired a few minutes ago.

  “Are you staying in town long?”

  Mason shook his head. “We have a flight to Atlantic City in two hours.”

  His uncle raised an eyebrow. Mason answered it with an almost negligible shake of his head.

  “So, are you two dating?” T.J. asked.

  Good question. We might’ve said the “love” word to each other two nights ago, but otherwise nothing had changed between us. And after discovering that Mason’s father had died, we had been too focused on that to discuss us. He was still my boss as far as I was concerned. A boss whom I was now officially having sex with.

  “Nicole manages the band’s social media accounts,” Mason said, “and has been organizing a few promotional events beyond what our label does for us.”

  His uncle chuckled. “I have no idea what you said, but it sounds good to me.” He looked back at the building. Gospel music now drifted from the open doors. “I should go back inside. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  They gave each other a one-armed man hug. T.J. wished us a safe flight and told Mason not to be a stranger anymore as far as he was concerned. There was a message in the look he gave Mason as he said it that was lost on me.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked Mason once his uncle was inside and we were walking back to Mason’s car. “I mean with your uncle.”

  “Considering he’s the only member of my family who can stand the sight of me…”

  I waited for the remainder of the sentence, but was met by the click of the car doors unlocking instead.

  “What happened to make your family act like that?” I asked, temporarily forgetting what he had said about telling me everything once he was ready. But as soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. “I’m sorry, Mason. Forget I asked. I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” He had gone through so much in the last twenty-four hours, he didn’t need me interrogating him.

  “I just can’t right now….I’m sorry. I made a mistake and have been trying to make up for it. They obviously will never forgive me, and it’s about time I accept that.” He turned the key in the ignition, making it clear that whatever had happened in his past wasn’t up for discussion.

  Chapter 26

  Mason

  Don’t fuck things up, son. That’s what my uncle had been telling me. He wanted me to confess the truth to Nicole about what had
really happened between my family and me. If he had known about her father, he might not have felt the same way. Or maybe he would’ve been even more adamant about me telling her the truth.

  When my family had initially turned their backs on me six years ago, my uncle knew how upset I was, and he’d eventually checked on me a few months later. It had taken him that long because he too had been pissed at me. I’d promised him I would turn my life around.

  And I did. Temporarily.

  But then I lost everything I owned and then some on a bad deal, which meant I was royally fucked—as in the if-you-don’t-pay-us-by-the-end-of-the-day-you’re-dead type of fucked. So I’d overdosed on alcohol and painkillers. Zack had found me and called the police—and my uncle had been the cop sent on the call. The cop responsible for telling my family the news.

  I can’t imagine they were too upset when they heard it. More likely they were upset that Zack had saved my miserable ass. His photo was probably on some family dartboard, along with mine.

  As much as my uncle clearly wanted me to tell Nicole everything, I couldn’t. Besides, what was the point? That wasn’t who I was anymore. Plus, who knew how long Nicole and I would be together? I longed for it to work out between us, but I had no idea if that was the same future she also saw for us.

  And right now I wasn’t in the mood to ask her.

  We drove back to my house and changed our clothes, then took a cab to the airport. Once we had checked in for the flight, we sat down in a restaurant and ordered food and drinks. She had water; I had beer.

  Before she was halfway finished with her drink, I was already on my second beer. But it would take a lot more than two beers to push away the memory of what had happened at the funeral.