Page 5 of Synced to Us

Mason hands me a grater and a block of cheese in answer as I approach. “Make a fucking mountain of orange shreds. She likes them fresh, not packaged.”

“Got it.”

I start grating, paying close attention to the blades near my thumb. I’m not fully awake yet and working the kitchen with one functional eyeball is hazardous.

Mason turns to the fridge, pulling out eggs and milk, and then hunches over the coffee machine as he watches it drip, drip, drip our lifeblood into a carafe.

“Still ain’t sleeping either, huh?” I say.

“It’s like slumbering beside a pregnant Atilla the Hun every night.” Mason glances toward the doorway as if expecting his wife’s approach. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“You and I both know we’ll hear her coming,” I mutter through the side of my mouth—also terrified over getting on McKenna’s bad side despite my assurances.

The coffee machine’s light goes off and Mason almost buckles in relief. He automatically reaches for three mugs, pouring an equal amount in each.

“How’d you sleep?” Mase offers me a mug.

I shrug and bring it to my mouth. The first sip of caffeine does way more for me than admitting sleeping on his and his wife’s couch and not my own bed is comfortable.

“Hey.” Mason draws my attention. The expression on his face alerts me that I’m doing a shit job at disguising the truth. “I’m sorry we kicked you to the couch. Mack’s in that nesting stage, I guess, and she’s determined to have the nursery primed and painted by month seven.”

I wave it off. “Buddy, it’s your apartment. You’re doing me a solid letting me stay here while I…”

Mason tips his head, waiting for me to finish my thought. I don’t.

After a deep exhale, he sets down his mug. “Look, we don’t do this thing. This, you know.” Mason motions to the space between us. “Heart-to-heart shit. But I have to admit, I’m a little worried about you.”

“So I’m a tad down-and-out. It’s not a big deal. We have continued royalties from Nocturne Court. I just have to wait until those come in, then I’ll be good again.”

“It’s not that.”

“I don’t want to be a burden, bro. Say the word and I’ll be out of your space.”

“You’ve said that a few times now, Wyn.”

“I’ll be good in a few months. I swear.”

“I mean, sure, but you seem to lose the money as soon as you get it.”

My back goes up, but I release the grater and rake a hand through my hair in an effort to maintain calm.

“Those royalties only take us so far,” Mason continues. “And it’s kinda stopped taking you anywhere. You’ve lost your lease, sold your furniture—”

“Not everybody gets a blockbuster solo career after their band breaks up.”

Mason’s expression goes slack. “Dude.”

Damn. So much for calm and collected. It’s no secret Nocturne Court broke up because the boys wanted to focus on their families, and I’m an ass for throwing it in his face. I blame it on the water bottle to the forehead as his morning greeting. “I appreciate everything you and McKenna have done for me. Really, I do. But maybe you’re right. Two months is too much. I should look for someplace else.”

“Ah, come on, don’t put words into my mouth.”

“I’m not jealous.” I fist-bump my chest to enunciate the point. “It’s great you and Rex released epic singles, and East is happy as a fuckin’ clambake being a dad and music teacher. I’ll find success, too. It’s just taking me longer.”

“I know all that. I’m not trying to push you out on your ass. This is me trying to show some concern, but I’m pretty shitty at it, so this is where we’re at.” Mason crosses his arms and glares at the ingredients. “Now, how the fuck do I make a scramble?”

“Get out of the way.” I round the granite counter and elbow him aside, heating up a pan on the stove and getting to work cracking the eggs.

“See? You’re good for something around here.”

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