Page 68 of I Need You Tonight
Chapter 25
Nicole
The twenty-four hours after Mason discovered his father’s obituary rushed by in a blur. After learning of his father’s death, Mason had become more restless than he’d been the first day back on tour—back when I had kissed him before the show. How he made it through the concert last night was beyond me.
As it was, none of the guys in the band knew about his father. His rationale for keeping quiet about it was that he didn’t want to worry them. So instead he told them simply that he needed to fly back home and would join them in time for the concert in Atlantic City.
Based on the weird looks the guys kept shooting me before we left, it was clear they didn’t suspect the real reason he was leaving. Although I wouldn’t have been surprised if they thought we were flying off to Vegas to get hitched.
Mason parked his car in the funeral home parking lot, not far from the entrance to the squat brick building. Unlike in the movies, where it often rained during funerals, as if the heavens also were in mourning, the sun shone down from the faded blue sky. Despite the lack of rain for the past few weeks, the lawn and decorative flower garden on either side of the building looked fresh and inviting—or would, under any other circumstance.
Mason cut the engine but made no move to leave the car. He just sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the stream of people in black suits and dresses filing into the building. Tension and sadness sat between us. I reached out and threaded my fingers with his. My heart broke seeing him like this. I remembered how lost I’d felt when Zack and I buried our mother. All I knew about Mason and his family was that they were no longer on speaking terms, but I didn’t know why. I had no idea how to ask him, and this wasn’t the right time to try to get him to open up. He needed me to support him. The rest could come later, when he was ready.
“It’s going to be okay, Mason.”
He tore his gaze from the front entrance, and my heart broke some more at the sorrow in his eyes. “How can you be so sure?” he asked.
That was the thing—I couldn’t. I had no idea what demons he was facing by being back here, other than they were big enough that he didn’t wish to deal with them alone when he was at his most vulnerable.
“You just need to take small steps,” I said. “Go in there and say goodbye to your father. Otherwise you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.”
The moment I said the words, I realized how true they were. My father had died a few years ago. Suicide. A side effect of his gambling addiction. Zack had been away on a mission, and I couldn’t bear the idea of facing the man—even if he was dead—to say goodbye. He had hurt my mother and he had hurt Zack and me, and I had let the pain block out the happy memories of him from before our lives took a turn for the worse.
And now a part of me regretted that decision. Despite everything, he had been my father and I had loved him. I was only understanding that now.
“After you say goodbye to him,” I said, “then we can leave if you want.”
Mason thought about it for a second, then nodded. “And you’ll stay with me?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“I do.” He glanced back at the funeral home and nodded again, this time with a little more conviction. “Whatever happens in there, thank you for coming here with me…and thank you for not asking any questions. I promise I’ll explain everything another time. When I feel brave enough. I just can’t deal with it now.”
He turned his head back to me, and the vulnerability in his eyes brought the sting of tears to mine. “Okay.” I reached out and lightly squeezed his hand, which was gripping the steering wheel.
He loosened his hold on it, then exited the car and waited for me to join him. Once out of the car, I straightened the short black dress I had bought yesterday afternoon in New York City for the funeral. The outfit, with the ballet flats, was simple and classy enough for a funeral. Mason also looked good. Unlike me, he’d been able to go home before heading here and change into one of his black suits.
He slipped his fingers between mine, and we joined the mourners heading into the building. A gentle sob broke out behind me, bringing tears to my own eyes. It didn’t matter that I’d never met Mason’s father or didn’t know anything about him. It was enough that his death touched so many people whohadknown him.
At the dark wooden doors leading into the building, Mason came to an abrupt halt, and part of me was grateful for that. The memory of the last time I’d been in a funeral home was still too fresh and I could barely breathe, so I imagined how much worse it was for Mason. I had at least been there for my mother during her final days. She’d died knowing I loved her.
My palms grew damp, but despite how much I longed to turn and run, I couldn’t. The man I loved needed me to help him get through this. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to encourage him to keep going, but before the words could form, Mason resumed walking.
Inside the building, the cloying scents of a large white floral wreath, burning candles, and furniture polish greeted us. I was instantly transported back to my mother’s funeral, except in her case the wreath had been much smaller, because Zack and I couldn’t afford the size she had deserved. I closed my eyes against the sob building in my chest.She died five years ago,I reminded myself.She’s not the one lying in the coffin.
Organ music spilled from the open doorway, beckoning us to enter—or maybe it was warning us that we should leave while we still could.
We stepped into the room. The beautiful yet haunting melody was now accompanied by the murmur of hushed voices with occasional sobs and sniffles. I scanned the rows of seats, searching for a spot to sit. The chapel was crowded, with well over a hundred people already seated, leaving us with few options.
I was about to ask Mason if he wanted to sit up front, where some empty seats still remained, possibly for family members, when I noticed his gaze was fixed on something ahead of us. I couldn’t tell if he was looking at the closed coffin with the massive red and green floral arrangement on it or at the two men standing up front.
A man a few years older than Mason was talking to a man with gray hair. As if sensing us standing there, the younger man looked in our direction and scowled. Mason stiffened and his hand tightened its hold on mine.
The man, who looked too similar to Mason to be anyone but his brother or other close relative, continued glaring as he walked toward us. My breath became shallow, my heartbeat rapid. I wasn’t one for confrontations, especially in a funeral home with so many people there to pay their final respects. I had a bad feeling in my gut that nothing good could come from us being here.
“You have some nerve coming here, Mason,” the man said. The intensity of the anger in his voice forced me to take a step back. Mason didn’t so much as flinch.
People sitting near the front turned in our direction or peered over their shoulders. Some were also frowning at us, but I couldn’t tell if that was because Mason was here or because they sensed a fight was about to break out.
