Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
The only other option I have is drinking, but I want to prove to myself that I can get through something major without turning to the bottle.
I lick my lips and taste whiskey on them even though I haven’t touched a drop. That’s how desperate I am for a drink.
“Evelyn wants to know if either you or Mason want to talk at the funeral,” Harley says.
“Are you doing it?”
“Haven’t decided.”
“I can ask Mason later. He’s asleep.” I turn to where he sleeps on the couch. I don’t want to wake him, but apparently I’m wrong anyway. And he’s been listening.
“I’m awake.” He sits up. “What do you need to ask me?” He looks horrible. With bags under his eyes, messy hair, and he hasn’t changed his clothes in days, so they’re all wrinkled.
“If you’ll speak at the funeral,” I say.
“I don’t even know if I’m going, so you can put me down as a hell no.”
“Did … did he say what I think he said?” Harley says in my ear.
“You’re not going?” I ask Mason.
“I … I, uh …” He lies back on the couch again and throws his arm over his eyes. “I don’t know, okay?”
“Harley, I’ve gotta go.”
“Look after yourselves. Talk soon, okay?”
I end the call and approach Mason, dropping to my knees next to him, but my phone starts buzzing again. This time it’s Keith, my manager. Just the sight of his name reminds me that he’s terrible compared to Cameron. He wants me to make a public statement and turn Cameron’s death into another publicity grab, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
I posted a heartfelt statement the night it happened, expressed my sadness at the news, but I didn’t want to step outside the generic condolences. I didn’t want to make it about me. Mason had said similar, so I made a statement for him on his social medias because he refused to.
He doesn’t have a manager to tell him that even though he’s going through a rough time, there are still expectations he should meet. Even if it’s the minimum. I’m trying to be that voice of reason for him.
I ignore the call. “Mason.” I lift his arm off his face, and his cheeks are wet.
He pulls away and stands. “I’m going to go shower.” He tries to leave, but I stop him with the only words I can find that won’t break us.
“You’re allowed to be upset, but please don’t shut me out.”
Mason pauses and turns back to me. He approaches slowly, and I honestly don’t know what to expect. When he reaches for me and pulls me off the ground, he wraps his big arms around me and holds me the way I crave it.
Other than a kiss on the back of my head at night and spooning me to sleep, it’s the most affection he’s shown me in days.
“We’re good, okay?” he says softly into my neck. “I don’t want you to doubt that.”
This is reassuring, protective Mason. The guy who made me believe he’d be there for me always. It tempts me into letting go and breaking down because I know he’ll hold me and make me feel like everything is okay. I’m on the brink of losing it, but I can’t do that to him. He needs to grieve too, and he can’t do that if he’s worried about me.
Mason pulls back and cups my head. “Hey. I’m here, okay? I’m here for you, but … I also need to be there for myself. Cameron’s death … it’s brought up a lot of shit I don’t want to deal with.”
“It’s hard on me too.”
“I know it is. I need to … I need to breathe. I can’t breathe here.”
“With me?” I croak.
“In LA.”
My breath gets stuck in my throat. “You’re leaving again?”
“I don’t … I …. maybe. The thought of going to Cameron’s funeral makes me want to hurl. It would be easier if I wasn’t there. Or here … or just … anywhere.” Mason winces. “I’m not even making sense. I’m thinking of going back to my mom for a while.”
“You’ll regret not saying goodbye. This is Cameron, not some random person you barely know.”
Mason pulls out of my arms. “Don’t you get it? I can’t face saying goodbye because I don’t want to believe it’s actually happening. He …” His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “He was the only one who never gave up on me. He can’t be gone. He can’t.”
If one thing could be learned from all of this—from Mason coming back to LA, to us hooking up and realizing we’ve always had more than platonic feelings for each other, and now Cameron’s death—it’s that denial can be a powerful thing.
I want to yell at him that he can’t run back to Montana again. He can’t leave me.