Page 8 of The Art of Dying

“You mean you were tipped not to say,” Alecia said with a wink.

Dani chuckled as she returned to her station. “That, too.”

Alecia took another swig before her next thought came tumbling from her mouth. “It was Kitsch.”

“I know,” I said. “He left a note on my car asking if he could buy me a drink tonight. I guess this is it.”

“He paid and skipped out, I guess? That’s… I think I like that for you. Giving you space. Kitsch is hot.”

“He’s okay,” I said.

Alecia chuckled. “Okay? He’s six feet tall, built like a rugby player, and wicked alpha. That jawline? Did I mention the dark hair with olive eyes? Holy hell.”

“You mentioned it. Maybe you should date him,” I grumbled.

“I don’t think Lucas would like that. And…and… he’s giving you space. That has to be nice, especially after Mason’s aggressive ass. Did the man leave you alone from the moment you met?”

“Nope,” I said, staring at the bottle in front of me.

I didn’t like talking about Mason. No one had made me feel as loved—or as worthless—as he had. In the beginning, I’d felt flattered that he’d asked so many specific questions about me. For a man to be so curious about my likes and dislikes was refreshing. It didn’t occur to me until it was too late that his perfection was the result of such calculated research. He was my soulmate, or so I thought. His insistence that we were together at all times, and the incessant phone calls when we weren’t, felt like love. I told myself the mediocre sex was great because it became the best way to make up after one of our million fights or the only way to connect with someone who in-person seemed devoid of emotion. He built me up so much in the beginning, I didn’t want to be knocked off that pedestal. It didn’t take long for the jealousy to seep in, the restrictions, the arguments about spending time with anyone or going anywhere but with him. The scary part was, he’d made pleasing him feel like approval and ignoring my own boundaries was expected, as if I weren’t a total failure of a partner if I gave in to his endless demands.

“Where are you?” Alecia asked.

I blinked, snapping out of the personal hell that were my memories of him. Nine months with Mason had felt like an eternity, and just thinking about what he put me through was exhausting. Emotional, verbal, and mental abuse leaves scars no one sees and takes much longer to heal than any bruises.

“Here.”

Alecia put her hand on my arm. “He lied to you. He cheated on you. The manipulation was unreal. He made everything your fault. He twisted every argument. He obliterated your self-esteem. He isolated you from your friends and family before abandoning you.”

“That’s not what bothers me.”

“How can that not disturb you on every level, Mack?”

“What bothers me is that he knew. He picked me knowing I’d fall for it.”

“He didn’t choose you because you’re weak. Men like Mason choose women who have so much of what they wish they were. They find women like you with all the intelligence, strength, beauty, talent, and personality and then spend the relationship breaking you down instead of stepping up to be the man you deserve. Mason knew he didn’t deserve you, Mack. He chose you to make him look good, slowly but surely making you feel small so he could feel superior.”

“I just don’t understand how—if I’m all those things—that I could let someone do that to me,” I said, feeling blood pool under my cheeks.

“If Mason showed you the real him in the beginning, you would’ve ran and he knew it. You were a frog in a frying pan, no clue he was turning up the fire every few weeks. You were groomed the way a damn pedophile does to a child. He made you trust him, made you think he was perfect and then enjoyed watching you desperately trying to get that version of him back. Hell, he even fooled me, and I’ve known him since kindergarten. He’s been awful to every woman he’s ever been involved with. I watched him show you glimpses of who you fell in love with just to keep you hanging on. Until you’ve been with someone so evil, you just don’t know it’s possible to do that to another human being.”

I took another drink, nearly finishing the bottle, the liquid sliding over my tongue less bitter. “Well, Al, I can tell you one thing… it will never happen again.”

We clinked our drinks together.

“Silver lining,” she said, staring forward. “Fair warning, though. Kitsch has been training.”

“For what?” I asked.

“He joined the Marines. I think he gets deployed this year.”

“Yeah, I’m not getting involved with someone who’s just going to leave in a few months.”

She shrugged. “Maybe you’ll go with him one of these days. Get out of the Cape, see the world? Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I’m not the military wife type.”

“What? Self-sufficient? A bad ass? You totally are.”

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