Page 48 of Mason
But no one answers, and I’m left in the dark with my panties around my knees.
TWENTY-SIX
DUKE
I runmy hand through my hair, letting a frustrated gust of air leave my lungs.Where the fucking hell is she?My gaze sweeps from Cabot Hall, where I stand on the steps, and out across the quad, scanning the lush green grass and KU students hanging out in small groups, talking animatedly amongst themselves. She wouldn’t have taken off. She knows better. At least I think she does. Lennon’s angry with me for how I treated her this morning. I don’t blame her. I was a dick. The things I made myself say to push her away… fuck, I’m kinda mad at myself. Tired and hungover—and other things I’d rather not think about—do not mix. So, now I’ve pissed her off badly enough that I’m unsure she’ll ever look me in the eye again.
An incoming text message grabs my attention, and I pull out my phone, fully expecting to see a message from her.
Do you have her under control?
But it’s not Lennon texting me, and there’s only one “her” my father could be referring to. I grit my teeth. We knew, obviously, that they’d be alerted about the alarm going off. Whether she’d done it on purpose, I have no fucking clue. All day I’ve anticipated my father’s call, and when it hadn’t come, I’d hoped he’d brushed it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Oops, there goes an over-anxious girl wanting to head to class or some shit like that. Yeah, I don’t buy it either, but when my father hadn’t immediately been up my ass about it, I’d been hopeful.
I’d also been wrong.
We’re fine.
Just a misunderstanding.
Waiting for her to exit her class now.
If you can’t handle her…
If you didn’t trust me,
you shouldn’t have enrolled her at KU.
Shouldn’t have left her with me.
Gotta go.
See you at the game.
Yep, that’s just like Tristan Valentine to not allow me the last word. And it might look like a friendlySee you soon!to the untrained eye, but my father is a master at delivering subtle barbs. What he really meant was,Congratulations, Duke. This is the fifth year you should have been playing ball, the fourth as a Kingston Lion. But instead, you let a girl derail your entire future. Bravo.
And yeah. I did. I’ve been thinking plenty about it lately, but not in the way he has. The anniversary of Juliette’s suicide snuck up fast. Next Monday commemorates the day my entire world turned into a nightmare of epic proportions.
When I’d looked at my phone this morning with my head pounding so hard I swore it was going to come off my neck, I’d gotten a reminder notice in my calendar app. It simply says Juliette. Four days. It’s a sick little countdown I’d plugged in as a reminder to myself that first year after I lost her. Because yes. Four days from now will be the anniversary of my girlfriend’s death. Though, why I thought I could ever—would ever—forget, I’ll never know. More than likely, I’d plugged it in as a way to ram the knife into my chest and twist it every goddamn year.
I thought I’d handle it better by now, but it’s just as fresh as the day I found out she was dead. And then, this morning, there was Lennon looking all kinds of beautiful. Lennon, who got to spend hours at that damn diner with Juliette. Lennon, who I need to push far away from me. She’s constantly on my mind lately, and it’s not fucking acceptable. It’s not fair.
My mind twists and forces me back to Juliette, making my heart convulse in my chest. Juliette, my god, she’d been perfect in my eyes. Kingston, as her big brother, should have stood up for her, fuckin’ helped her. But he was too wound up in himself and his own life to see the pain she was in. How the fuck had he missed it, living with her? How had he not seen it coming? How the fuck hadImissed it?
To me, she’d been everything light and good. And then she was just gone. She’s dead. She’s never going to smile at me again, I’ll never get to touch her. And all that’s left is this hollow feeling in my gut and the need to make Kingston hurt as much as I do. His sister isnevercoming back. He shouldn’t be fucking moving on with his life like he is.
I never have. I don’t know if I can or will ever be able to. I know we were young, but I thought she was it for me. Closing my eyes, I make an attempt to shake it off and am surprised when I open my eyes not to see myself bleeding all over the steps of Cabot Hall. Because that’s what it feels like every time I think of Juliette. It feels like I’m bleeding out. Like there’s nothing left inside me that’s worth a damn.
Lennon didn’t deserve my wrath this morning. But lately, every time I look at her, I’m reminded of Juliette in her cute little diner uniform. She’d been so happy. So damn happy.
It makes no fucking sense.
My phone buzzes in my hand, jarring me from my anguished thoughts, and when I look down, I realize I’ve missed a phone call and no fewer than ten text messages from Lennon.
Duke.
Someone locked me in.
Help.
