The Art of Sage (Cruz Brothers #2)

by Melanie Munton

He spread his legs and crossed his arms, looking ready for battle. “Alright, go ahead. What are you apologizing for?”

  Taking a few deep breaths, I straightened my spine and steeled my shoulders, a move which he seemed to recognize and smirked at. It wasn’t a nice smirk either. More like a condescending one.

  “I’m apologizing for everything I said to you in the car. For taking my own problems out on you. And for not giving you the benefit of the doubt or even giving us a chance.”

  He was silent as he took that in, though his impenetrable stare never wavered from mine. Eventually, he shrugged, looking unaffected. “Okay, that’s done. Was there anything else?”

  My heart broke at his lack of emotion. He’d never been this way with me, though I knew that this was exactly how I’d been with him. I had to remember both that and that he was in a very raw, vulnerable state with his father’s funeral still fresh in his mind. Whether or not he would admit it—and I knew he wouldn’t—it was clear that he was hurting. And whatever he was feeling at the moment was probably going to come flying out of his mouth without the cushioning of a filter.

  I took a step toward him, but stopped when a muscle in his jaw ticked. “I was really upset after we picked Katie up,” I told him. “But that was no excuse for how I treated you or for pushing you away. Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve had trouble dealing with my anger and sometimes, everything just comes exploding up to the surface before I can push it all back down. You were the closest outlet at the time and as horrible as it sounds, I stupidly used you as my punching bag. That was really unfair of me. And I didn’t mean anything I said about us.”

  He slowly shook his head at me and my pulse hammered with worry. “The problem is, I think you did mean it,” he said, forging on despite the vigorous shaking of my head in protest. “I believe most of that was just anger directed at Ed. But all of that about our relationship? About me resenting you and not being able to deal with your baggage? That was real, Sage. That came from somewhere inside of you, and you’d been holding it all in until that moment. You kept all of those feelings from me, and the first opportunity you had to use your excuses of the past, you took it and ran with it. Was everything just getting too real for you, so you decided to take the easy way instead of facing the hard stuff head-on?”

  “None of this is easy!” I ran both hands through my hair and fought to get myself under control. This wasn’t going to go well if I repeated the same mistakes by yelling at him instead of talking. “You were right, okay?” He quirked an eyebrow but didn’t respond. “About the deal with Katie hitting close to home for me. That was the first time I really came face to face with my issues since it all went down when I was a kid. And quite frankly, I was completely unprepared for it. I didn’t have my guard up.”

  He grunted in frustration, his arms flying out to his sides. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need your guard up around me? With other people, with your kids, around those families, sure. I understand the need to protect yourself. But not with me, Sage. Never with me.”

  I nodded and bit back tears. “I know that. I’ve always known that deep down, but that was the very thing that scared me. Because I trust you more than anyone, ever. And you’ve become such a critical part of my life that if I lost you somehow, or worse, if you decided you couldn’t deal with me, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. You seeing me in my most fucked up state was terrifying for me. And for some reason, I just thought that if you left because I told you to leave, the hurt wouldn’t sting as bad once you were gone.”

  “And you realize how idiotic and ridiculous that was, right?” he asked, not mincing his words.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m not used to…channeling my anger in different ways, like I need to do with you. I’m used to yelling and saying whatever comes to my mind, no matter how hateful or hurtful. I know how messed up that sounds. But no one has ever really held me accountable for all of that before. There’s never been someone like you in my life to make me want to improve that. To want to control myself and be better. And when I saw those drugs—”

  “That wasn’t mine.”

  I looked him straight in the eye, my defiance matching his. “I know. I think I even knew at time there was a good explanation. But since I wanted nothing more than to just be mad in that moment, seeing that only fueled me. And I’m so sorry for it. It was wrong of me, and you never deserved any of it.”

  A few beats of silence passed and then, “And it took my father dying for you to realize all of this?”

  I reared back, shocked that he would actually ask that. “No, of course not. I figured all of this out days ago and wanted to talk to you about it, but you weren’t answering my texts or calls. I figured you were still angry and needed more time.”

  He laughed in disbelief and put his hands on his hips. “See, that’s what you still don’t seem to get. It wasn’t that I was angry, Sage. I got over the anger pretty quickly after I left you. It was the hurt that bothered me. You fucking hurt me. Your lack of trust in me felt like someone had stabbed me right through my goddamn heart. I thought you knew me a hell of a lot better than that. But you looking at me like I was a complete stranger? Yeah, that hurt like a son of a bitch.”

  His words were hurting like a son a bitch. I would have much rather dealt with his anger than his pain. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered through my tears, which were now falling down my face. I didn’t know what else could make it better other than repeating those words over and over to him until he believed them wholeheartedly. “I do really trust you, Mason. Completely. And I’m working on my issues from the past. I’m learning to control my emotions and I promise that I’ll never react that way again.”

  “You can’t promise that,” he said, his expression turning sad, resigned. No, no, no. I didn’t like that look at all. “Who’s to say you won’t have problems with another kid that remind you of your past and I just happen to be standing in the line of fire again? I can’t live my life constantly fighting with the person I love and who’s supposed to love me. I grew up that way. With parents who showed each other more hate than love, and I refuse to live like that. I can’t deal with having a huge blow-up fight after every issue we have, big or small. That’s not the kind of relationship I want.”

  You’re losing him. “I know and I promise I’m going to change,” I said, pleading with him. My voice was growing desperate. “It’s just not something that can happen overnight. Those instincts are engrained in me. It’s the way I’ve handled things since I was young. It’s going to take some time to readjust and rewire everything. But I need you to have patience with me. Please. I need you to stay and give me the chance to make this better.”

  He stared at the wall behind me, not at me. With his chin lifted, I recognized the signs of stubbornness when I saw them. “I don’t know if I can,” he said, his voice flat.

  It felt like my heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe for several seconds as those words filled the void between us. “You said you wouldn’t give up on me.” My voice was shaky as more tears fell. My hand clutched my chest, trying to bring life back into my heart as I fought through my panic. “You said you wouldn’t give up on us. That you loved me.”

  His mouth drew into a tight line, his brow furrowing, though his voice didn’t change, remaining even. “That’s hard to do when the other person is so willing to give up on you first. It makes you wonder why you were even trying at all.”

  I backed up, my shoulder blades hitting the door, hardly believing what I was hearing. I wanted to escape from the hardness in his eyes, erase that look and his words from my memory forever.

  “No…” I shook my head as my hand subconsciously reached for the doorknob. “You don’t mean that. We need to talk about this another day. You just lost your father. There’s probably a lot of things on your mind right now.”

  “It’s not going to change anything.” God, his voice was so hard. “You’ll still be who you are and I’ll still be me.” />
  “So, that’s it?” I asked on a whisper. “You’re done?”

  There was a brief flash of pain in his eyes before he covered it behind the mask he now wore. “You didn’t even question your trust in me or in us, Sage. Because it was never there in the first place.” His expression was so sad, it devastated me, obliterating what fraction of a soul I had left within me. “I can’t pretend that didn’t affect me on a deep level. I can’t snap my fingers and magically make all of that go away.”

  How had it come to this? You did this to him. It’s all your fault.

  Story of my damn life.

  I nodded my head slowly, trying to muster up some dignity even if my heart was still in denial about everything. “Okay,” I said in a broken voice. “I’ll leave you alone then. I’m—” I took a deep breath when I got choked up. “I’m really sorry about your father. Give my respects to your family. And please send my apologies to Diane.”

  I wouldn’t allow myself to look back at him as I opened the door and briskly walked out of that basement, making a beeline for my car. I was grateful that no one inside the house had spotted me making a run for it and come out to intercept me.

  Although I kind of wished Mason had.

  Not that I expected him to. Not after what he’d just admitted. But the hopeful side of me still prayed until the second I drove away from the house that I would see him come running toward me, waving his hands, telling me he didn’t mean any of what he’d just said. I wanted him to say we could start over, start fresh.

  But he never did.

  For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have an overpowering sense of hope to guide me.

  And without Mason in my life, I was afraid that I would never get it back.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mason

  What the fuck have you done?

  Excellent question, and one I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even re-trace my steps and figure out the exact spot where I’d gone wrong because my thoughts had been all over the place. If I were to do an autopsy on that conversation with Sage, the results would have been inconclusive. Cause of death: stupidity? So many things were being screamed at me when it had been my turn to speak. There had been so many different responses to every one of her statements, and I had apparently chosen the worst, most asinine one every time. I hadn’t realized how frustrated I still was over the scene in her car the morning she found the drugs.

  I almost took my fist and punched a hole through the bathroom wall but quickly remembered that it wasn’t my house.

  But even with Sage’s absence, clarity was still lost to me. It wasn’t like the second she walked away, I immediately knew everything I had done wrong. Truthfully, I knew I had screwed up, monumentally. But I couldn’t explain to her or even to myself why. I didn’t automatically know how to make it better and get back to where we were, when everything had been fantastic between us.

  And if I didn’t have those answers, what would be the point of going after her?

  I eventually made my way back upstairs, preparing myself for the inquisition that was sure to come my way when everyone realized I was sans my “friend.” I saw the men had congregated in the living room while the women were all bustling from the kitchen to the dining room and back, getting lunch ready. Of course, the first person to take notice of me was Diane, the woman who had invited Sage over in the first place.

  “Where’s Sage?” she asked, concern lacing her words.

  “She got called into work,” I answered. “Some kind of emergency. She told me to apologize for her and to thank you for the invitation.”

  Worry was etched in every line of her face, though I didn’t want to contemplate the reason for it. “Well, I hope everything is okay,” was all she said before walking back into the kitchen.

  When I turned for the living room, I realized that all the guys—Dawson, Parker, Clay, and Sam—were all watching me and had clearly heard every word I said.

  None of them looked like they believed one damn bit of it either.

  Ignoring them, I went and sat down on the end of the couch where Dawson and Parker sat. They were all smart enough to go back to their conversations or watch the baseball game on TV. I mostly stewed, going over and over my conversation with Sage, only speaking when someone asked me a specific question.

  After eating lunch and helping clean up the table, I made my way out to the back patio, hoping no one would follow me. I just wanted to be left alone with my thoughts for a little while. Though as soon as the back door opened and I heard heavy footsteps approaching me from behind, I knew that my brothers were not going to allow it.

  With Dawson on my left and Parker on my right, I stared out at the backyard, trying to avoid thinking of the day’s events but finding it impossible.

  “I always liked those trees,” Dawson commented, referring to the row of trees that lined the Masterson’s backyard. Their red, pink, and white flowers were in full bloom. “What are they called?”

  “Crepe myrtles,” Parker answered. “When we were kids, Diane said they were her favorite tree and that she wanted some. Said she could remember having a dozen or so in her yard when she was a kid and that they always made her happy. Not even an hour later, Sam was out buying them in bulk and planting them the next day.”

  We all three chuckled. “That sounds like Sam,” Dawson said.

  We were quiet for a few minutes before I felt the need to speak up. “The service was nice,” I said to Dawson since he had planned most of it. “You did a good job.”

  He grunted and cleared his throat. “I did it more for Mom than anything.”

  “How do you think she’s doing?” Parker asked.

  “I think she’s accepted it,” he answered. “I just don’t think she has a clue what she’s going to do now. She needs to move out and get her own place. There’s too many shitty memories in that house to make her staying there worth it. But before she can do anything, she needs to get clean.”

  I felt Parker’s head whip around to look at Dawson, though I kept my gaze facing forward. “She’s still getting the pills?” Parker asked incredulously.

  “Found a couple of bottles in her purse just this morning,” Dawson replied. “She doesn’t know I took them yet.”

  “We need to admit her to a facility,” I blurted.

  I had been thinking about it while in the hospital with Sal, trying to figure out the right time to bring it up. The three of us hadn’t discussed it in months.

  “I think you’re right,” Parker said.

  We waited to hear Dawson’s take on it because we had to be unanimous in the decision. He had always had a different relationship with our mother since he’d spent the most time with her, being the oldest son. He had seen a completely different side of her for much longer than Parker and I had, and he’d looked out for her more diligently over the years.

  I wasn’t sure if he’d changed his mind since our conversation that night at Riverside Park.

  “I don’t know,” Dawson finally said. “How do we know that she won’t eventually ween herself off of it over time? I mean, now that Sal’s gone and she doesn’t really need it anymore. Maybe we should give her a chance to do it on her own.”

  I glanced over at him and saw conflict marring his face. I had a feeling it was affecting him differently than me or Parker, so I didn’t scold or criticize but merely informed. “That’s not how addiction works, man. And she is an addict, whether we want to accept it or not. With Sal gone and her now being completely alone, she could get a lot worse before she gets better. You finding pills in her purse isn’t a good sign either. She needs professional help.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to go?” Dawson asked. “Are we supposed to force her?”

  “If her own life is in danger—which it is—yes, we can admit her. It would obviously go smoother if she were willing to go.”

  “You need to bring it up with her, Dawson,” Parker said. “You know how to talk to her and she listens to yo
u more than anyone.”

  “I agree,” I added.

  Dawson blew out a heavy breath and sighed. “When?” he asked. “How soon can the facility take her and what’s the admission procedure?”

  “I’ll call the facility and take care of everything,” I said. Since it was the same rehab center I attended five years ago, I knew the in’s and out’s of the place better than anyone. “When she’s ready, we’ll drive her up there and fill out some paperwork.”

  “And then we just…leave her there?”

  I knew that was the hardest part for Dawson, the feeling of abandoning her. “They’ll allow her a certain number of visits every week, so all we have to do is call if we want to go see her. We’ll be able to talk to her on the phone too, make sure she’s doing okay. And she will be okay, man.” I slapped my hand on his shoulder. “They know what they’re doing at this place. They’ll take care of her.”

  He chewed on that for several seconds and eventually stated, “I’ll talk to her.”

  We all fell silent again, until Dawson had to open his big mouth. “So, what was that whole thing with Sage earlier?”

  I dropped my arm and leaned onto the wooden railing, feeling my neck and shoulders tense at the reminder that I’d been a total dick to her. “What are you talking about?”

  Parker snorted and I could practically hear his eyes roll. “Come on, bro. You don’t expect us to believe that bullshit about her getting called into work, do you? The fire of a thousand suns was in your eyes when you took her down into that basement. We know something happened. And it didn’t seem to go well.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you were grinding your teeth together so hard during lunch, I thought you were going to bust your jawbone,” Dawson said matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, so what’d you do?” Parker asked. “Fess up.”

  I looked at both of them to see them staring at me expectantly. “First, I didn’t realize I was on a talk show. Since when did you two bastards become Dr. Phil and Dr. Ruth? Second—”