Her obvious discomfort leaves me feeling awful. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut, but I could tell she wasn’t being honest, and I was right–she doesn’t want to live in Australia. I think it’s amazing that she has given up so much to help her mum.
I finish washing up the dishes, then send Mase a message telling him I’m on my way home.
The Bentley is a welcome distraction from the worry for Erin, and instead of overthinking all the things I wish I didn’t say to her, I’m forced to concentrate on the beasty machine that is Mason’s car.
Mason’sveryexpensivecar.
The drive home is plain sailing, and I even put the radio on for the last five minutes of my drive as my confidence starts to grow. It really is an easy car to drive.
I’m about five minutes from Mason’s when my phone starts to ring, and I answer without looking—too afraid of taking my eyes from the road—then switch it to speaker.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Scar!”
“Hey! I’m just driving.” I tell her on impulse. “I’m actually in the Bentley.”
“Mason let you drive the Bentley?” She’s shocked.
I chuckle, wiggling my bum into the seat. “I know. I wouldn’t trust me either.”
Her laugh echoes through the car, making me smile. “So, I wanted to know if you would do lunch with me tomorrow? Dad has a two-hour appointment which he refuses to let me go to; he’s a stubborn fool.”
“Of course, I’d love to! How is he?”
I mentally try to remember what classes I have tomorrow.
“He’s good. Seems upbeat about it all. I just hope they find a transplant.”
“A transplant?” I frown.
“Yeah, Mason didn’t tell you?”
“No.” I bite my bottom lip in worry.
“Typical.” She huffs, and I hear her shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Dad needs a liver transplant, he’s high on the list, though, and they think it’ll be within the next six months.”
“Wow. That’s big.” My shoulders drop as disappointment floods me. Why would Mase not tell me? “What’s his appointment for tomorrow?”
“Blood tests, I think he said. He refused to have me sit and wait the full two hours, so I said I would drop him off and meet you. If you were free.”
Two hours for blood tests? That seems like a long time.
I jolt forward in the seat, my body lurching into the steering wheel before it’s thrown back into the leather.
“What? Nina? What was that noise?”
“Oh my god!” I panic, looking over the steering wheel to see the bonnet crumpled.
“Nina?”
“Scarlet.”
“No… Nina. Tell me you haven’t?”
“Fuck, Scarlet,” I cry.
“You haven’t, tell me you haven’t.”
