“Because I get the impression you’ve been keeping a lot of shit in, Reed.” He glances at me. “And you’re finally letting it go. It’s not about being a mess—we’re all messy. But most people are too damn scared to face it. Not you. You opened your hand and let it all spill out. You’re facing it, and that’s the bravest thing you can do. You’re strong.”
“Have you seen me?” I wave up at my bruised and bloody eye. “I’m not strong.”
“What he did makes him weak, not you.” Mason turns to face me. “Surviving that… being here now… that takes balls and fucking strength. Falling apart is easy but picking yourself up one piece at a time, getting your shittogether, that’s the hard part. You’re tough as nails, regardless of what you think. You’re not here because you fell apart. You’re here because you’re picking up the pieces.”
“Pick up sticks,” I whisper.
“Yeah.”
I’m not sure I agree with him. He’s hopeful if he thinks that this is me keeping myself together. I’m so far from being one piece, I don’t even know where I lost all the ones that are missing. But I don’t mind if Mason holds onto that belief for me. Maybe someday, I’ll be able to carry it myself.
“Well, if you can remind my brother of that, I’d appreciate it.” I knit my fingers on my lap. “Because all he’s going to do now is stew until he gets his hands on Carter, and I didn’t come here for him to save me.”
“Your brother’s always going to worry about you, regardless of how many times you tell him not to.”
Something about how he says it makes me think he understands.
“Do you have any siblings?”
“A sister.” His gaze drops to the ground. “We were close.”
“And now?”
His eyes meet mine, and that dark storm I’ve always sensed brewing just beneath Mason’s surface finds its way to the edge of his expression.
“Now she’s dead. And every day I wish I’d worried about her more.” Mason stands up, walking his coffee mug to the sink. “Your brother loves you, Reed. Let him.”
He glances over his shoulder at me, and the pain in his eyes is almost too much to face. I don’t know what happened to Mason’s sister, or why he’s chosen now to open up to me, but for the first time since I met him, I see deeper into a man who doesn’t easily let people in.
I see a secret—not that different from the ones I keep. And if I had any more of myself to give, I might stand up, walk into the kitchen, and hug him.
But I don’t.
5
Reed
Carter walks over tothe safe and punches in the code.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you.” He turns around, and I spot the gun in his hand when he does. “I can’t do this without you.”
He places his finger over the trigger and positions the barrel under his chin.
“No.” I drop the clothes I was putting in the suitcase and rush over to him. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m fucking sorry, Reed. Don’t you get that?” His breathing is frantic. “I told you I was sorry, and you’re still packing your shit.”
I grab his forearm, trying to pull the gun away, but he’s too strong. My nails dig into his skin, but I’m shaking and losing my strength as I panic.
“Don’t do this.” I’m pleading, trying to pull his arm with my entire body weight. “I love you.”
“You’re leaving.” It’s so loud, I jump. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was an accident.”
Excuses. Excuses.
I’ve heard them all so many times, and I still want to believe them. My pain is nothing compared to the thoughtthat he might kill himself. Because hating what he does to me doesn’t stop me from loving him. And I hate that more.