No amount of digging will expose the reality that lives with me.
Once I’m dried off, I wrap myself in a towel and leave the bathroom. I find Mason sitting on his bed, his head in his hands. His hair spiked out all over the place.
‘He means well, love, he’s not a bad bloke.’
I push Vinny’s voice from my head.
What I would give to go to him, to let him hold me like before, and to let him tell me it’s all okay.
It’s not okay.
His head comes up as I step into view, his sad eyes meeting mine, and a sick part of me silently pleads that he doesn’t let me go.
Don’t give up on me, Mase.
His eyes scan my towel-clad body. “Will you stay tonight? It’s late. I can take you home first thing.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know.” He drops his head again. “But I need you to stay.”
My twisted heart beats for his words, hisneed. “That’s not fair. Don’t put that on me.”
“Nina, please. I didn’t mean what I said, I just wanted you to let me in.”
“Let you in? Do you even hear yourself, Mason? You couldn’t even tell me where you were going last night. You took what you wanted and left me alone with your friends. Are you going to let me in? Tell me? Or should I have you looked up? Just take the information without any regard or thought for your feelings?”
The razor-sharp cut of his jaw flexes at my words, and he pushes his hair off his face as he stands, quickly closing the distance between us.
My heart lurches in my chest as I hold my breath, already afraid of what he will say.
Choose your words, Mason. Don’t get this wrong.
“I took what I wanted, and I make no apologies for that. You want to know where I was last night?” he asks, looking down his nose at me. “My father likes a drink. Mysister, Scarlet, struggles to help him through what I can imagine is fucking hell. It’s no big secret, Nina.”
He throws his arms out wide, stepping away from me. “Anything else you want to know?”
“He’s an alcoholic too?” I mutter, surprised.
His features tighten, his face contorting into a frown. “What? No. My father is nothing like your mother.”
I blink slowly, dumbfounded as I step back from him. “You’re really fucking bad at this.”
He tips his head to the ceiling, blowing out a breath. “Nina, please. Can you just stay the night, we can talk about this tomorrow? Please, I’m fucking this up.”
“I’m going home. And I wouldn’t worry, there isnothingto fuck up.” I go to his en suite and find my clothes.
He’s hot on my heels, anger radiating from every inch of him. “Fucking fine! But I’m driving you.”
“I will call a taxi,” I shout back, searching for my dress. “Where are my things?”
He points to the door. “The wardrobe. I’m driving you home.”
He follows me into the ridiculously large walk-in wardrobe. It’s bigger than my entire living space. My annoyance at him has me seeing it all so differently. His money is such a turnoff.
I don’t bother to correct him, reaching up on my tiptoes to get my dress from the hanger. I spin with it, clutched in hand, only to come face-to-face with him.
There’s so much anger in his stare, but it’s not for me. Sitting in the lines of his handsome face, I see something else. Something I can’t pin down. Fear maybe? His own pain? I don’t know, but it irks me, because I don’t want to stay, and I don’t owe him a thing.
