He’s been stressed with work the last few days, or so he says. I know the Joey thing is still playing on his mind. And his dad. God, I’m such a bitch. I haven’t even thought about his father.
I pause at the thought, dropping the T-shirt I was holding to the floor.
It’s just a job.
I find myself laughing hysterically in the confinements of the wardrobe.It’s just a job.My laugh soon turns into tears.
I wish it were just a job.
* * *
The pingof the elevator has my eyes snapping open. I must have drifted off watching the television. My eyes feel heavy, and I know it will be obvious to Mason that I’ve been crying. I sit up and look at him over the top of the sofa. He looks tired. His eyes just as red as I expect mine are.
“Did you even come home last night?” I ask before he can greet me.
“I did. It was late and I had to be up early this morning.”
I nod my head waiting for him to come to me. He doesn’t. “Is everything okay, Mase?” My throat bobs, and I know I’m going to cry any second.
His brows pinch in, his fists clenched at his sides. “Yeah, sorry, are you okay? How was your day?”
“It was fine, I didn’t do much. Have you heard from your dad lately?” I ask, trying to not bother him with my own problems.
“Uh, yeah. I spoke to Scar yesterday.”
“Have you spoken to him, though?”
“Not since I took him to the hospital.”
I drop my head to the side. “Mase.”
“Don’t, Nina. Why are you bringing this up? I don’t want a lecture on my dad right now,” he snaps.
I sit back affronted. What on earth? “I wasn’t giving you a lecture. But I think you should give him a call.” I roll my lips. “Scar told me about the transplant.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes and looking to the ceiling. “You don’t need to worry yourself with it. Let me deal with my own shit.”
My eyebrows pinch together. “Why are you getting angry?”
“Because you think you always know best about him but you don’t. You don’t even know him, and I’m not interested in continuing this conversation after just getting in the door.”
“Okay,” I say, shocked at his outburst.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, not looking at me. “I’m going to go shower. Have you eaten?”
I sit cross-legged with my back to him, staring at the coffee table, tears staining my face and dripping onto my leggings.
“Nina.”
“What?” I snap.
“Whatever.” He huffs and takes off towards the stairs.
* * *
Mase
My jaw clenchestight as I lean my arms against the shower wall, the water cascading down my back.
