Page 39 of Brando

“You’ve had enough, let’s go.”

Mason lets out a hollow laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “Mia’s gone. She doesn’t need me anymore,” he slurs. “I’ve failed her. I’ve failed all of them.”

“Failed? What are you talking about?” I ask, my brow furrowing in confusion.

Mason takes a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches for another shot. I push it out of his way and in return, he throws me a stony glare. “You’ll never understand, Brando.” He shakes his head.

“Understand what?”

There is only sorrow on his face as he looks down at the empty glass in front of him. He is a deep well of despair, the very indication of human frailty as he buries his regret at the bottom of a bottle.

“I’ve lost her. I failed her and now she’s lost to me. Mia will never even know the truth of who I am to her.”

My heart races. “What do you mean?”

Mason closes his eyes, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It doesn’t matter anymore. She’ll never know.”

It could be that he’s drunk. Or it could be that he’s too far gone that he doesn’t know what he’s saying. But there’s a deep curiosity inside me to know what a drunk Mason has to say.

“What won’t she know, Mason?”

“I’m her father. I’m Mia’s biological father.”

Blood rushes to my head, and I feel like I’ve been doused with icy cold water. My eyes widen, a seismic shift rumbling through the room. “What? What are you talking about, Mason?”

“I’m Mia’s father.”

“But…Tommy Corsica…?”

“Wasn’t her biological father,” Mason admits, anguish lacing his words. “Her parents had an open marriage. They loved each other, but they also loved me. I was the third person in that bed.”

“You’re drunk,” I remind him, although the reminder is more for myself than it is for him. He’s too drunk to know what he’s saying. A drunk Mason Ironside spews shit he has no business saying.

“When they died, I lost everything,” he starts again. And now, I’ve failed to protect her. She’s out there, and I’m here, drinking myself to death. Because that’s exactly what I deserve after failing her.”

I feel as if the ground has shifted beneath me. “You’re telling me that all this time, you’ve been protecting her and her sisters because she’s your daughter?”

“Yes!” Mason exclaims, his voice rising with desperation. “Mia is an extension of my heart. When I lost her parents, I lost my family. I promised I would always look after her, but now… now I’ve lost everything.”

I drop heavily into the stool across from him, the weight of Mason’s revelation settling heavily in the air. I wonder if he’ll remember this conversation in the morning. I wonder if he’lladmit to it when he’s once again coherent and not so drunk. I came here to check up on him, not expecting a night of revelations.

“Does she know?” I ask him. I don’t know that this changes anything between us, but it explains why Mason has been so protective of the girls, so fixated on finding them.

He shakes his head and tells me the three of them, Mason and her parents, decided it was in her best interest to keep quiet about it until she was older.

“You never thought to tell her? She’s going to hate you for keeping this from her when she finds out.”

“That’s why she can never know, Brando.” He shoots me a warning glare, daring me to be the one to break it to her. Not my place, I think. “I wasn’t prepared to be a father, never even gave it a thought. But once I found out that Mia was mine, I did the best I could.”

“That’s a whole other conversation for another time,” I tell him. “We need to find those girls.”

“I’m scared, Brando,” Mason admits, this eyes wet with moisture. “I’m terrified that Frank will hurt her and I’ll never see her again.”

“Then get up and help me find her,” I hiss, determination igniting in my chest.

“We’ve looked everywhere,” he reminds me.”

“Not everywhere,” I remind him. “We’re taking the search to the backyard of the Maltese.”

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