Page 17 of Black Roses

He finishes his examination and motions for someone to come clean the spill. “I’ll get you another.”

“No, it’s okay,” I say, with a shaky voice I pray he doesn’t discern. I pull a bottle of water from my bag. “I have a drink.”

I’m not sure what persuades me, but in a split second, I decide to confide in him. Maybe it was his gentle touch. Maybe it’s the way he makes me feel protected. Maybe it’ll appease him and get him off my back. But am I throwing Charlie under the bus by telling him?

“Nobody knows about this,” I say, silently apologizing to Charlie. She’ll understand. I know she will. “Nobody except me, my best friend, and my mother.”

He tentatively picks at his sandwich as if what I’m about to tell him will hurt him. “Okay. Tell me.”

I look around the café to make sure we’re alone. “That man was Charlie’s father.”

“Charlie’s dad?” His brow furrows in anger. “Did he do anything to you? To her?”

“Yes and no. I mean to her, not to me,” I say, fumbling over my words. “Well, he didn’t do anythingtoher. It’s more like what he didn’t do.”

Mason’s confused eyes question me.

“It’s a long story,” I say.

He drops his sandwich and leans back into the booth. “I’m not going anywhere. I have all the time in the world.”

I can’t believe I’m about to divulge such information to a virtual stranger. What do I really know about Mason Lawrence? Other than what my sisters have told me and the stuff I’ve Googled about him in the last few weeks—I roll my eyes at myself—I barely know him at all. But all the articles, all the stories I’ve heard from friends and family, they all say the same thing. He can be trusted. He’s an honorable and genuine guy, if one can truly exist. And deep down in my gut, I know I agree.

“He left Charlie and her mom when Charlie was twelve years old.” I dare to look up at him. He doesn’t comment. His eyes encourage me to continue. “Her mom was famous. A runway model and actress. But after Charlie was born, she lost her modeling contract and the roles stopped coming in. She turned to drugs and alcohol. And she, uh . . . blamed Charlie for her lack of work.”

“What do you meanblamed?”he asks.

“Exactly what it sounds like. She hit her. She hit Charlie.” My heart races as I reveal her secret, hoping I’m not damned to hell for doing it.

Mason contemplates my words as he looks at me over the rim of his coffee cup. “And he knew about it?”

I nod my head. “Yeah, we’re pretty sure. Charlie heard them arguing about it once. Her mom threatened him. Told him if he ever breathed a word of it, she’d end his career. He was a fairly new screenwriter trying to sell his screenplays, and she had enough clout to keep that from happening.”

“So he chose his career over his daughter?” Mason balls his hand into a fist and hits the table, causing everything on it to jump. “Fucker.”

I realize in this moment what I had forgotten. Mason has a daughter. I’ve never seen him with her, so it never occurred to me until this minute that he’s a dad. He’s probably envisioning someone hurting his daughter. I push the thought out of my head, not wanting to even contemplate it.

“And that’s why she wanted to leave the country after high school?” He shakes his head, confused. “But she’s a grown woman now. Her mother can’t hurt her anymore.” He slams his coffee on the table, causing it to spill out the top. “Wait . . . yourmomknew about this?”

Unmindfully, I put my hand on his arm to calm him. I instantly pull it back when I feel the spark that ignites between his flesh and mine. I ignore the unfamiliar feeling in my belly and proceed to explain. “Only after it had ended and we were getting ready to leave the country. Anyway, there wasn’t anything my mom could do about it. Charlie asked her to keep quiet, saying she’d deny all of it if my mom went to the authorities. It would be Charlie’s word against hers.”

“But why stay away all this time? Why not just move out of the house when she turned eighteen?”

“Because that’s not the end of the story,” I say flatly, clamping down my emotions.

“Shit,” he says, shifting in his seat, putting his large arm on the bench behind my head, but not quite touching me. He doesn’t even know Charlie. Doesn’t barely even know me, yet his eyes are filled with concern and trepidation. He nods at my water bottle. “Do you want something a little stronger than that?”

A quiet laugh escapes my nose and I shake my head. “I’m in training, remember? No alcohol.”

“Right. You’re saving it for our date,” he deadpans.

I tense. He must realize he’s hit a nerve. He quickly adds, “I was joking, Piper. So, you were saying there’s more to the story?”

I blow out a breath and rub the tension from my neck. I can sense his hand behind me, moving towards me then dubiously pulling away, as if he’s having to keep himself from touching me. My pulse quickens and another sigh escapes me, leaving me wondering if it’s because he almost touched me. Or because he didn’t.

I push my sandwich away, feeling sick over what I’m going to tell him. “Charlie’s mom was a drunk. She hung out with other drunks. Sometimes the guys she had over to the house would . . . do inappropriate things to Charlie.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. “I’m so sorry.”

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