Page 12 of Second to None

‘Kinda.’Her sheepish expression firmed as she brushed a lock of stubborn hair out of her face.‘Nana and granddad said he hurt you. So, I don’t like him.’

‘It’s not that simple,’I’d said. Hmm. Also, my mum and dad would not have told Emily anything like that.‘Hey, monkey, did you eavesdrop?’

‘No.’

I arched a brow at her.

‘I just wanted to get a snack,’she said, defensive now.‘So I went down to their kitchen, and I justhappenedto hear that Cass really hurt you, and that you’re still not over him.’

Not good. While I didn’t intend for Cass and Emily to meet, I didn’t want her to hate him on my behalf. So I’d told her that Cass was a good person, awonderfulperson, and that we’d been simply too young. That yes, I’d loved him but I didn’t anymore. That I still cared for him, though, and it was important to keep this a secret—just between him, Emily and me.

She’d promised she wouldn’t tell a soul.‘But you don’t love anyone else either,’she’d said then, like she was still fitting pieces of a puzzle together.

‘I loveyou,’I’d said and proceeded to tickle her until she was giggling and had all but forgotten about Cass.

First my kid, now Mason—neither of them really buying my line that I was over Cass. Well, I would go down with this ship. I was also mixing up my metaphors, tiredness making the ends of my thoughts stick together.

“I don’t mean a quick hookup here and there,” Mason said. “I’m talking someone important enough to meet your friends.”

“We both know how hard it is to trust that people are with you for the right reasons.”

Mason dipped his chin. “You mean friends or romantic partners?”

“Both, really.” I’d made a handful of casual friends at work and was friendly with some of the other parents. Only two school friends had survived my run with Neon Circuit, time zones and vastly diverging life experiences driving a wedge into all my other friendships from before the band. And then there were the other lads, of course. All but one.

It was a small social network, especially for someone who considered himself an extrovert. But it was enough for me.

“I know, yeah. Trust is hard to gain and easy to lose.” Mason settled more comfortably into the cushions. “Which proves my point, though: there hasn’t been anyone since Cass.”

“I’ve been busy. You know I needed some time to get my act together.” I’d needed to stop drinking, needed to stop feeling sorry for myself when most people would love to be in my shoes. “And then Jess got diagnosed, and dating was the last thing on my mind.”

“Yeah,” Mason said quietly. “That really sucked.”

They’d all been at the funeral—Mason and Ellis and Jace. Not Cass; he hadn’t known. I hadn’t wanted him to come out of some lingering sense of obligation, hadn’t wanted him to see me fall apart even more, so I’d asked the others not to tell him even though they’d tried to argue. Without his shining beacon to attract the moths, we’d managed to keep it out of the press.

“No matter what you think,” I told Mason, “I didn’t come here for Cass. This is for charity. For other people’s Jessicas and Emilys, who may get a chance at a cure.”

“One does not exclude the other, you know?”

I set my water down and focused my full attention on Mason. “Okay, mate. What are you actually saying here?”

He met my eyes, face uncommonly sombre. “You always take care of everyone else—the band back then, now Emily and your artists, and your parents too, a bit.”

“I like feeling useful.” I did. Focusing on others kept me from getting lost in my own head.

“Nothing wrong with that.” His smile was small, quietly wistful. “I just wish you had someone you could lean on at least once in a while.”

Ah, hell. I was too tired to sweep his words aside like I usually would. “What does any of that have to do with Cass?”

Mason lifted one shoulder. “Maybe nothing.”

“Well.” I pushed to my feet, vision swaying for a second before it steadied. “And on that vague note, I’m off to bed.”

”Sleep well, bro. Nice to have you here.” His voice softened. “It’s been too long.”

I exhaled. “Yeah, maybe.”

Maybe.