by Lane, Stacy
I worried that maybe I was the distraction. He started the game taunting Noah, he sent his brothers here to check on me, and now he’s minutes away from the final buzzer with a complete checked-out glaze over his eyes.
My finger itched to pick up my phone and send him a text. My spine tingled at the thought to wait and call him later tonight. To talk, to dish out sarcasm, to tell him I have two pies waiting for us to dig into together.
But I won’t call or text or ask him to come over. I told Brooks if we carried on then I would eventually fall for him when the truth is I’m likely already more than halfway there.
The disappointments raging through me for thinking a man of his status would stoop to my level, has me battling more emotions on my drive home as I shift into thoughts about my mom.
The last time we spoke she barraged me about the company I’ve been keeping. How I’ve tangled myself up with a not so good guy like Noah. It didn’t matter that I pressed and reiterated that I was not involved with Noah Werner and his bad reputation. It didn’t matter that he was the twin of the doctor boyfriend she used to praise everyone about. Mason was already forgotten. She barely let me skim over the lies and secrets he pulled on me.
I didn’t want her pity because I had a terrible ex-boyfriend. But I wanted something. Her support or encouragement or even some anger that was directed at Mason. A sign of her internal instinct to protect her daughter. Instead, I felt like the accused.
She didn’t know who I was anymore.
She couldn’t understand where she went wrong that I would want to be so far away from home.
And why would I ever want to be involved with a bunch of jocks? They’re not even the highest paid jocks, she said.
Bring a football player home, at the very least, Jolene.
I stopped answering her calls. Not that it slowed her down. She called every day and left a voicemail each time.
I’ll answer one of these days, but right now I can’t take another hit to my self-respect.
Pulling into my driveway, I coast forward as the garage door begins to lift. The overhead light I park under flicks on, illuminating the bare space. Sounds of shutting car doors on the street do not phase me, but hearing a strangers voice call out my name does.
“Excuse us. Are you Jo?” The gentle, feminine voice carries up my driveway.
Hesitating outside of my car, I turn to see two people at the end of the drive, ten feet away from a parked Lexus on the street.
“Can I help you?” I ask with my guard up. It’s eleven o’clock at night. House calls don’t occur at this hour unless it’s for some shady business.
“I’m Clare and this is my husband Pierce. We’re Mason’s parents.” She stops halfway up the driveway. A nervous, but friendly smile graces her attractive face.
I walk to the end of my garage, stopping my calculated steps near the right side where I have a basket full of sharp garden tools. Best to be prepared for every unexpected.
Without responding, for the most part due to no response coming to mind, I stand there with curiosity.
“Mason Werner,” she goes on to explain like I didn’t put that together myself.
“Yeah, got that,” I mumble. “What can I help you with?”
I really don’t know what I’m supposed to say my ex-boyfriend’s parents whom I’ve never met. There is nothing positive left in me regarding their son.
“Sorry it’s so late, we just keep missing you every time we’ve come by,” she says, glancing at her husband then back at me.
Mason’s dad, Pierce, stands with his hands tucked in his slacks, a light shade button down, and a long, tailored coat over it. He stares straight ahead with a set brow and an unwavering grimace.
Clare wears a fashionable red pantsuit, close to burgundy if I had to guess in the night time lighting.
If this is how they’re dressed after eleven p.m. I’m sticking close to the loppers.
I’m starting to become agitated with having to ask why they are here for the third time.
“Mason has recently been pulled into some scandal with his brother, Noah.” Clare clasps her hands together, prepping her speech like she’s in front of a jury. “We just wanted to formally apologize to you for being dragged into it. Noah told us you and Mason dated for a year.”
“Yes.”
I had no intention of soiling a man’s name to his own momma. If she was here to apologize or whatever was going to help her sleep better at night because she procreated a two-timing assface, then I’ll stick with bless her heart and say good night.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jo,” she smiles.
Something is off. The visiting hour, for starters, but there’s something about her smile that is throwing me off. A stepped-into-Pleasantville kind of feeling.
“We’re flying out Monday morning,” she continues on. “Maybe we can get together over coffee tomorrow?”
“Um, I have plans tomorrow,” I lie.
“Clare,” Pierce mutters low.
“Okay, that’s fine,” she nods at her husband, then faces me again. “Again, I’m so sorry that Mason never brought you around. We would have loved meeting you. He was such a great son. Did you ever meet Noah before now, or Mason kept you all to himself?”
She speaks to me as if we’ve gathered just to reminisce. As if we share common ground over what a “great” son he was.
Shifting my stance, I say, “I’m not sure what Noah told you about Mason and I, but keeping me to himself was all under a pretense.”
“Oh, yes, we know about that,” she nods in agreement. “It’s why we’re so sorry we have to meet like this after he’s gone, and on such sad circumstances.”
“You have my condolences on the loss of your son.”
“Thank you,” she smiles.
“But the Mason I knew, was named Kason. He told me he was estranged from his parents. Actually, the only thing he didn’t lie to me about was that you all are from Connecticut.” The smile drains from her face. Pierce’s shoulders stiffen as he finally meets my gaze. “Now, it’s very late and I think you came here for a different reason. So please speak your peace and let’s move on. Because your son was anything but great to me.”
Gone is the soil, and welcomed is manure straight from the barn.
Her mouth opens and closes twice before she speaks again. “Mason made some mistakes, but he doesn’t deserve to be dragged down with his brother. Noah’s always been the wild, unpredictable son of ours. We really did come to apologize on Mason’s behalf. We only ask for a guarantee on your part that you won’t come forward on a matter of any kind involving Mason.”
I tilt my head, curiouser and curiouser as every well-placed word falls from her lips. “There’s nothing for me to come forward with.”
“So you didn’t know Noah while Mason was alive?” The pleasant falls from her voice.
“No. I met Noah by coincidence.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake, Clare, can we go now?” Pierce flings an arm toward their parked car in front of my house. “This was a wasted trip.”
“Jo, we need our son’s name out of any scandal once and for all. If you ever loved my boy, I hope you can honor that.”
I shake my head, baffled. These people seriously tracked me down to bribe me from slandering the Werner name any further. Did they pay attention to anything? I was the one dragged into the scandal with Mason and Noah. They did the rest all on their own by being the scumbags that they are.
“I don’t plan on speaking about your son ever again, scandal or no scandal. I don’t know why Mason kept me a secret from your family and vice versa, and I’m the one who will never get that closure, but I think it’s pretty terrible of you guys to come to my home and ask me for favors and pretend to be oblivious to the hurt I felt caused by your son.”
“Honey.” Clare’s features turn cold. Her sweet, motherly tone freezes over and into an ice queen. It’s Pleasantville meets Narnia. “If my Mason kept you from his real life, t
hen it’s not him, but you that was the problem. You just didn’t mean enough to him, Jo.”
“Clare, let’s go,” Pierce breaths down her neck.
“Can you wait here for a sec? I have something of Mason’s you might like to have back.” I turn heel without waiting for a response. If Mason is so precious to his mother as she makes it seem, she’ll wait to see what I come back with.
Walking through my garage and into the house, I cross the hallway and into my bedroom. Inside my nightstand, I pull out the final piece of my life that was connected to Mason.
Gripping tight, I storm back outside into a beautiful dark night deserving of a happy ending.
For me, that is. However, his parents see it and deal with it is up to them.
This is how I’m choosing to take the closure I deserve.
I don’t stop until I’m right in front of them, still standing in the middle of my driveway. Holding up the blue velvet box, I speak as Clare’s eyes drop to what’s in my hand. “Mason lied about everything and for all I know the sweet tale he told me about this ring was just another string in his web. But if he wasn’t lying and this is your great grandmother’s ring, a family heirloom, then it’s only right if I give it back to you, seeing as I couldn’t possibly have meant anything to your son.”
By the look on Clare’s shocked face, and Pierce’s that is ready to blow a gasket, it’s safe to say Mason didn’t lie about the ring he proposed to me with.
Speaking my peace, I go inside without another word. Exhausted and knowing the second my head hits the pillow my mind won’t sleep with all the excitement from tonight, I take a sleeping pill and climb right into bed.
Mason-Kason proposed to me two nights before he died. I never gave him an answer. I never told anyone about his proposal. I never wanted to say yes.
I asked for time. Time I really didn’t need. Time, as it turned out, Mason didn’t have.
The sleeping pill kicks in, I was easily drifting away without any worries or anxieties weighing heavy on my mind for one night.
But as my eyes closed and nothing came to haunt my dreams, I liked to think the absence of that ring did what no sedative could. I now only wish I had gotten rid of it a long time ago.
TWENTY
Jo
I’m having flashes of déjà vu.
I rode in the backseat of Taytum and Nick’s car after leaving a hockey game and was being forced to go to Triplets.
The game was my idea this time around, but the petulant pouting as Taytum all but dragged me inside with, was just the same as my first time here.
The company I work for had a suite for tonight’s game.
Let me rephrase, they get a suite for one game a month, but tonight’s game was the first time I put my hat in the ring.
When the boss saw my name on the list of who wished to attend, they called me personally. It’s irregular that I’m at the office, and more so that I speak to my actual boss on the phone since all of our correspondence is done through email. He thought someone wrote my name down in the hopes to swipe my tickets and bring more guests.
I assured him I wrote down my own entry.
Then I had to assure him that I really was planning on attending and this wasn’t a fluke.
Geez. You’d think I never joined work functions with all the questioning.
You never join work functions.
He was so ecstatic that I finally agreed to be a part of a company gathering, he asked how many tickets I wanted. Which worked in my favor as I wasn’t sure how to tell Nick he couldn’t come with Taytum and I.
Knowing them, one would stay with me and the other would sit in their regular seats, and then they would switch back and forth. Anything to get free food.
But we all watched the game from the box, sat in cushy chairs, ate a bunch of free food, and then after enough badgering they persuaded me to buy my first team shirt.
The Fury won in overtime and then the three of us left.
It’s a Friday night, no reason to go home. I didn’t want to go home, but I didn’t want to go to Triplets either. Especially on a game night.
“Do you remember the first time we came here?” Taytum asks in a dreamy, far off memory sort of way. “It was karaoke night, we sang something from Grease, had a talk about you coming out of your shell and working on being more spontaneous.”
“Yes…”
“Oh good so it’s not just my imagination,” she snips, dreamy face turning into a nightmare glare. “I worried there for a minute that my best friend, who’s been a lot of fun and open to anything lately, was all in my head.”
Guess I wasn’t the only one experiencing some déjà vu.
“I’m never open to anything,” I defend with a dry remark. “But I am better with the fun.”
“Yes, you are and I won’t let you retreat to your old ways.”
“All I said was that I didn’t feel up to the bar scene tonight. That’s not retreating.”
That’s procrastination.
It’s a game night, which means Brooks will be here at some point if he’s not already, and I wanted to put off running into him as long as possible.
Without Chelsea, we sat with the rest of the patrons like the commoners we used to be before having an in with royalty. And that was fine by me…because procrastination.
Nick shuffles back to the table I nabbed up right when we stepped through the doors.
I may have dragged my feet getting here, but I made damn sure I was the first one over the threshold and grabbing a table as far from the VIP section as we could get.
They knew something was up after I made an unnecessary scene of coercing Nick to go get the drinks and to make sure he ordered from anyone but Cam.
Taytum and her bloodhound senses started sniffing out a story with my scent all over it.
“I ordered from a guy named Josh who I think is new, so you are still invisible for now.” Nick puts me at ease as he sits down next to Taytum.
“Why are you so hellbent on avoiding Cam?” Taytum asks, leaning into the crook of the arm Nick threw around her.
Beer near his mouth and at the ready, Nick tosses in, “I think she slept with him.”
Drinking right as a foot connects with his shin from beneath the table, the liquid trickles down his mouth and chin.
“Oops,” I smirk.
Taytum gasps, drawing attention from people at the next table over. If she believes I slept with Cam, then she’s losing her Carmen Sandiego instincts.
“You slept with him,” she says with shock. Actual shock. Her mouth hangs ajar and she looks as if she’s been zapped by a stun gun.
“I did not sleep with Cam,” I ground out.
“Not him. Brooks.”
My turn to lift the beer and drink.
Nick rolls his eyes. Even he doesn’t believe it.
But when I don’t decline and Taytum sits straighter in her chair as the silence wears on, he flicks his gaze back and forth between Taytum and I before they remain on me. “Holy shit.”
“When? Where?” Taytum fires off. “Was it just one time? Multiple times? Jesus, woman, tell me something!”
I keep drinking.
“Wait. What does Cam have to do with this?” Nick asks.
“Cam will tell Brooks we’re here if he sees us,” I reply. They stare at me like there wasn’t a problem with that happening. “If Cam tells Brooks I’m here and he does nothing, I’ll feel like an idiot. If Cam tells Brooks I’m here and he comes to find me, I’m still an idiot but more so because I’ll let that get my hopes up for something that cannot happen ever again.”
“The something to never happen again is code for sex, right,” Taytum grins, wiggling her brows.
“This is your fault. You told me to have a one night stand. You said a one night stand with a hockey player would be perfect for me because I don’t even like hockey. Well, guess what, Tay, I like him and I like hockey now.”
She keeps grinning as my voice rises. I’m close to k
icking her in the shin too.
“So what happened afterward?” she asks. “Did he kick you out the next morning or the same night? I don’t understand what is making you feel like an idiot.”
“No he didn’t kick me out,” I grumble. “I stayed the night and he wanted me to spend the day with him but I hightailed it out of there.”
“He wanted more of the Jo-Jo Juice and you left,” she screeches.
“Ew. Don’t call my…bits Jo-Jo Juice.”
Nick spits up a little.
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“That was the deal,” I say simply. “One night. He’s a serial hookup kind of guy.”
“She’s right,” Nick adds after needing another moment to recover from hearing about my lady parts in gruesome detail. “Jo’s smart to not get attached. A guy that’s only in it for the sex will never fall for the woman.”
“You fell for me,” she sasses, pointing out how they slept together right after they met.
“I was in it for the sex with you, though. I didn’t have other women on stand-by.”
Strangely enough, I get what Nick is saying to Taytum and it’s oddly romantic.
After Taytum glistens with hearts in her eyes, she shifts them into lasers and back on me. “You slept with him, so there’s no need to feel like an idiot about anything, Jo. Unless you get the opportunity to have sex with him again and you turn it down, then you’re an idiot.”
“It’s more than just about the sex,” I mumble. I’m not sure if Taytum can hear me over the constant chatter and loud music throughout the bar, but the words I spoke weren’t necessary for anyone really. The sex was on my mind a lot. But the man was on my mind more.
“This is a big place and it’s packed. I doubt any of them will recognize you.” Taytum tries reassuring me, and by the gentle tilt of her mouth, I can tell she’s done with the intense questioning. For now.
Allowing me to have my woes will only last so long before she seeks out the details.
“Let’s play darts,” Nick suggested. “Maybe have another round of beers, but let’s just enjoy our night. We don’t need famous people to have fun like we used to.”