“Mason?”
“Yeah, love?”
“Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you.”
“Ah, Emery Jean,” his smile shines bright as he moves the hair from my face, "I dove in headfirst.” His lips come down on mine, and we smile through our kisses.
“I love you,” I say it one more time.
“I love you, too.”
I snuggle into him deeper for the rest of the boat ride. By the time we get back to my house, it’s six-thirty, and I’m starving. Walking in my front door, my parents and Derek’s mom are already inside, getting ready to sit down and eat.
“I knew you guys were coming, but I didn’t know you were cooking! Thank you!” I hug and kiss my mom and dad before going to Derek’s mom, wrapping her in a hug.
“So good to see you. How are you?” I say.
“I’m good, considering,” I say, and she smiles. “How are you?”
“The same.” Hugging her one more time, I squeeze her a little more. We’ve been texting on and off since that phone call so long ago, and we’ve grown closer than we were when Derek was alive, which I’m sad about, but I’m grateful our relationship has grown.
The six of us sit at my table, laughing and honoring my late husband, and as I look around at each person, I’m beyond grateful I have these people in my life.
You made me proud, Emery Jean.
I close my eyes and smile.
I’ll always love you, baby.
Then he’s gone, and it gets a little colder. A little emptier. But with the people around me, my heart is still so damn full.
waldosia—A condition characterized by scanning faces
in a crowd looking for a specific person
Emery
Are you okay? It’s been a long time since you’ve written. I hope you're okay.
Today was the one-year anniversary of Derek’s death. As hard as it was, it was good to celebrate him with my family.
Please write back.
Please be okay.
exulansis—the tendency to give up trying to talk
about an experience because people are unable to relate to it
Emery
It feels like months since I’ve read your words. It’s been two months. I’ve wanted to write to you more, but it felt kinda creepy, so I’m writing this last one to say I hope you're okay. I’m worried to death that maybe you relapsed, or you’ve gotten hurt.
Please, at the very least, let me know you’re okay—
When I hear the front door open, I quickly hide the letter I was in the middle of writing. Embarrassment and a bit of guilt are written on my face, and I’m not sure why. I don’t know why I still feel the need to hide these letters. Maybe it’s the fact I have no clue who I’m writing to, and I’ve told them very personal things? That I’ve been doing it for so long? I don’t know, but I don’t feel like looking too deep into that right now.
Mason is already smiling as he struts to me in his uniform and hugs me. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”
My arms wrap around his waist. “Hi, babe.”
“Hi, love.” He kisses me, lingering for a minute before parting from me and pushing the hair back from my face. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” I slowly sign the words to him as I speak. He’s been teaching me ASL as much as possible.
He looks lovingly at me, and the adoration in his eyes feels like home. His hands move as he speaks. “How about you go change into something comfy, and I’ll make us dinner.”
“Ooh, I like it when you talk dirty.”
“I know you do.” Mason bites my lip before he slaps my butt as I leave.
“Ow!” Throwing a fake glare at him, I rub the sting left on my skin.
“We’re gonna have to work on that, love!” he hollers at me from the kitchen, and I roll my eyes. After I’m done freshening up and changing, I walk back to the kitchen, and what I see makes my stomach drop. Mason’s brows are pulled together as he holds the letter I was writing in his hands.
“Oh, um.” I rush over, taking it from him, unsure of what to say. “Where did you get this?”
“I was looking for a spatula, and I opened the wrong drawer. The drawer was full, and it popped out.” He runs his tongue across his teeth. “What is that, Emery?”
I look down at my feet and sigh. “Can we sit? And talk?”
Mason’s face screws up in pain as he rubs his temples. “Yeah, we need to talk.”
His tone implies that he has something to say as well, and it throws me off guard a bit. We sit on the couch, but for the first time, there’s a divide. Butterflies stir in my belly, and it’s not in the way they normally would with Mason. It’s dread.
A sigh leaves me. “Mason, I—”
“It’s Tristan.” He’s staring at his palms, picking at his fingers.
“What?”
“My twin brother. Tristan.”
“Okay…” The dread in my belly turns to a nervousness. From the quickening in my throat and my shaking fingers, I know something big is about to happen.
“Tristan is a recovering drug addict. He’s struggled his entire adult life, and most of his teenage life with addiction.”
“Oh, my God.” I stand to my feet. This can’t be.
Mason doesn’t make eye contact with me, licking his lips before pursing them. “He’s the one who’s been writing to you.
“How the hell do you know that, Mason?” I don’t yell, but the desperation under my question is loud and clear.
He bites his lips and scratches his scalp before he groans and stands. “Please don’t be angry.” His eyes plead with mine.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I’m hesitant to sit back down, and when he tries to hold my hand, I snatch mine from his grip.
“I tried telling you.”
“Tried telling me what, Mason?” Anger coats my words and my vision as my heart speeds up.
“When I helped him move, I was carrying a box, and the bottom fell out. Letters from a shoe box were everywhere, and I wasn’t going to read them until I saw your name at the bottom of one. Then I read more. And a few more. And when I realized you completely poured out your heart to him, and not me, I freaked out, Emery. I was so angry. Hell, I was jealous because I wanted all of you, and he was getting parts of you I never had!”
“What did you do, Mason?” My nose flares in trepidation.
“I told him to stop writing you.” His face is cold, but I see the apprehension.
“Why. The hell. Would you do that?” I point at the letter on the coffee table. “Those letters are what got me through the darkest moments of my life, Mason! Those letters are what brought me to you!”
“And I’m glad he was there to get you through that. But even after, you told him shit about us, Emery. About me. Of course, I’m angry.”
“You had no right.” I spit through my teeth. “You knew the whole time, and you didn’t tell me. I’ve been worried sick that yet another person in my life has died, Mason! Are you kidding me?” My hands grip my hair in disbelief. My cheeks are burning hot with rage, but I have more questions.
“How did he get my address? How did he know about me?” Mason sighs and sits back on the couch with his head in his hands. “Is there more you’re not telling me?”
He clears his throat and wipes his eyes, and when he looks up at me, I see red surround those beautiful brown eyes filled with tears. “Sit down, Emery.”
“No. Now what aren’t you telling me?”
His voice cracks, “I tried, love. I tried to tell you so many fucking times.”
“Mason, I’m not kidding. What is it?” My irritation grows as he keeps trying to stall.
“He got your address from me.” His chin quivers. “I’m about to tell you something, and you’re going to leave me, Emery. I can’t lose you.” He breaks as a tear falls down his cheek.
“That’s not your decision, Mason. Explain. Now.” My heart echoes through my whole body,
waiting for him.
“Tristan stayed with me for a bit and was struggling. Bad. Then he was leaving to stay with my parents for a few weeks, and he found a file in my office one day.” He looks up at me again with apologetic eyes. “He got your information from that and wanted to write to you, someone he didn’t know and didn’t think would write back. He wanted to vent to someone who didn’t know anything about him. But you ended up writing back.”
I start connecting the timeline dots in my head. “He wrote to me a month or two before I met you, Mason. What do you mean you had a file on me?”
Mason's head shakes back and forth as tears start to fall down his face. “I’m so fucking sorry.” I don’t say anything as I wait for him to continue. “I tried. I tried so fucking hard. He was just too far gone. I did CPR for forty minutes until they got there. I tied my belt around his leg to try and save it.”
Blood immediately drains from my face as a cold wave of shock hits me like a brick wall. “What the fuck are you talking about, Mason?” My hands shake, and my breathing is shallow.
Mason is sobbing, trying to recall what he did. “It happened right in front of me. The car crossed the divider and hit him. I can’t remember how many times his car flipped. I wasn’t on duty, but I pulled over and ran to him because I didn’t want the flames to get to him.” He’s not making eye contact with me, and it’s a good thing because all he would see from me is utter shock.
Mason clears his throat and continues through his cries, “It was pitch-black out, but the small flames cast just enough light on him. It took me five blows with my elbow to shatter the window and try to open the door, but it wasn’t budging. The car was upside down and his seatbelt was locked. All I kept thinking about were those fucking flames, and I couldn’t get him out. No matter how hard I tried. I ended up grabbing a shard of glass and cutting the belt off him.” He rubs the scar on the inside of his palm as his tears slowly fall into it. “I finally pulled him through the window and carried him about twenty yards up.”
The breath leaves my lungs as I back up against the wall, slowly sliding down until I’m on the floor, tears streaming down my face.
“Someone had already called an ambulance, but it took them forty fucking minutes. For forty minutes straight, I did chest compressions and rescue breaths until I felt hands pry me off him.” His chin quivers again as he looks at me. “I wouldn’t. I didn’t stop.” His eyes find mine as his head shakes back and forth. “I told them I was a paramedic, and I rode in the ambulance, trying to do everything I fucking could to save him, Emery.”
I shake my head, tears rolling down my face. “No. Don’t say it.”
“I couldn’t save him. I was so fucking close, but I couldn’t save him. And when we got to the hospital, and he went back, I didn’t know what to do. I remember seeing the ring on his left finger and thinking, ‘this man has a wife, and she’s never going to see her husband again because I couldn’t save him.’ That’s on me, Emery.”
My silent cries are uncontrollable.
“I sat in the waiting room for what felt like hours. Then you came in. I didn’t notice you at first until a doctor came out to ask for the family of Derek Sutton. You stood up, and I’ll never forget the look in your eyes, Emery. The way you fell to the floor sobbing, screaming his name over and over again.”
The sob leaves my body as my head falls into my hands.
“When I watched you breakdown, I promised myself I would check up on you. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and I wanted to make sure I never forgot how I felt watching you in that waiting room that night. I never wanted someone to ever go through that on my watch again.”
Mason stands and slowly walks to me, crouching down in front of me to tip my chin up. “I’m so fucking sorry, Emery.”
My head shakes furiously, still unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a word. Mason’s hand lays on mine, but I move mine away quickly as if he burned me. The look on his face is heartbreaking. “I told you, you would hate me.”
“I think you should leave.”
“Emery, please—”
“LEAVE!” The scream bellows through my cries.
“I can’t leave you like this.” His face is filled with regret, but so is mine.
Standing to my feet, I shove him back. “Leave! Get out! Leave!” I deliver blow after blow to his chest with every word, and he takes every single one like he’s hungry for it. Like he knows he deserves it and wants the pain.
Backing away, Mason’s hand grips his hair, unsure what to do. Now that he’s several feet away from me, I sink back down the wall, and when my butt hits the floor, I lay on my side, crying into my own arms.
“Drew? Can you come to Emery’s? No, she’s not. I’m gonna wait outside till you get here.” His voice cracks again. “She needs you. Just hurry.”
Mason walks back over to me, his hand reaching to push the hair from my face, but I shrink away. “I’m so sorry, Emery. I’m so fucking sorry. I love you so damn much. Please don’t forget that.” He sniffles and stands, leaving me be because he knows I need my own space.
Ten minutes later, the door opens, and I hear Drew’s worried voice. “Emery? Emery!” Once she walks into the living room, the sound of my cries catches her attention. “Oh my God, what happened? Emery, what is going on?”
Her worried voice makes me cry harder as she sits me up and hugs me, squeezing tight. I cling to her like she’s the only lifeline I have left.
Because in a way, she is.
zenosyne—the sense that time keeps going faster
Mason
“Here, bud.” Tristan hands me a beer, and I take it, popping open the tab and letting the cold bubbles fall down my throat.
“I’m sorry, man,” Tristan speaks up, and I shrug my shoulders. “You know it's not your fault he died, right?”
My tired, lifeless eyes move to his.
“Were you the one in the other car? Did you leave the scene? No. You fucking broke a window, cut off his seat belt with a shard of glass, dragged a man out of the car, and did CPR for over thirty minutes. Do you know how fucking heroic that is, Mason?”
“He died, Tristan,” I say and take a swig of my beer.
“But not because of anything you did. You kept him alive, longer. You gave him a chance.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“It wouldn’t have been enough no matter who or what you were, Mase.” The words make sense, but they don’t matter. He didn’t have to watch a woman crumble to the floor when she heard the words, “We’ve done all we could do.”
“I’m just saying, give her a little while. Some space. Then go get your fucking girl because, whether she or you know it or not, she’s not mad at you for not keeping him alive, Mason.”
That catches my attention.
“She’s mad because you hid it. Because you lied.” He takes a drink of his beer and raises his brows.
Rolling my eyes, I fall off his couch. I’ve been here for two days. I’ve tried texting her. I’ve tried calling her. But it gets stuck on delivered and goes straight to voicemail.
“What if she’s gone forever, Tristan?”
“She won’t be.” He says it with every ounce of confidence.
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, but I do. Because I’ve gotten to know her on a different level. And believe me when I say I would give anything to have a woman love me like Emery loves you. She just needs time, man. More than that, she needs you to respect that.”
“Why do you have beer here?” I ask him.
He raises a Dr. Pepper. “Damn, you really are tanked. You brought it with you. I’ve been a good boy, which is a surprising turn of events. Too bad Mom and Dad aren’t here to witness this.”
“I’m sure you’ll rub it in at some point.” I get up, tripping on the pile of cans around me. “Did I make this mess?”
“Yep. Is this what it was like taking care of me?”
“No. You were worse.” I open the fridg
e and take out the pizza box, grabbing a cold slice.
“So. What’s the plan?”
“What’s what plan?” I ask with a mouth full of pizza as I flip through his TV.
“How are you getting your girl back, jackass?”
I shrug. “She probably hates me.”
“Oh my—are you kidding me? Get out of your damn pity party, Mason. Man the fuck up and go get her.”
“You literally just said to give her time.”
Tristan throws his head back, exasperated. “I’m going to have to spell it out for you. Okay. Do what you have to do to get her back, dummy. Emery is the best woman either of us has known, and I haven’t met her yet.”
My tired eyes meet his. “You didn’t see the look in her eyes, Tristan. She hates me.”
“Would you stop thinking about yourself and realize she just found out the man she loves—the FIRST man she’s loved after her husband—only knew of her because he tried saving her husband’s life, and his brother wrote her anonymous letters because he had a lapse in judgment, but it ended up saving both of them?”
“That was a lot, dude.”
“So, you’re going to just let her walk away? That’s that?”
“What’s your point, Tristan?”
“My point is,” he says as he grabs a slice, “get your head out of your ass and stop thinking about yourself. That woman has been through the ringer, she needs your support and love, not your selfishness and pride. Man up, brother.”
I throw the pizza back in the box. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“Fuck, I love it. Been a long time coming.”
Time to get my girl back.
oenomel—something combining strength with sweetness
Emery
Drew and I have been staying at an AirBnB off the coast, needing to get away for a bit, needing to think. Rationalize. Let my anger simmer down. I’m hurt and so livid, but I miss him at the same time. It’s his arms I want around me, not my sisters. But then when I think about what he hid from me, what he lied to me about, the anger starts to boil again, and I feel hot all over.
The Best of Me Page 16