‘Yeah.’ I exhale wearily. ‘No luck.’
‘He’ll be okay.’
‘I hope so.’
‘You know this is how he deals with things.’
‘It still worries me.’
We sip and chew in silence, both needing a few more minutes to brace ourselves for the day. I hear my phone vibrate on the bedside table, jerking me out of my thoughts. I look over to it, dread gripping my stomach as I read ‘Mum’ across the screen.
‘Oh, God.’ I turn my head away, slapping my hand to my mouth as my breakfast threatens to come back up. ‘I can’t face her right now. After what ... after what she ...’ Scrambling to my feet, I bolt to the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. My knees hit the harsh cold ground. Exhaling, I sag back against the wall, closing my eyes and struggling to draw breath as tears flood my face.
After a minute, I drag myself to my feet and shower once more. I rinse my mouth and brush my teeth. I dress again, push my hair back from my face and go back to Mason.
His shoulders are tense as he paces the room, his right hand doing that trembling, twitchy thing it does when his anxiety is getting the better of him. Walking over to him, I take his hand into mine and press it to my chest.
‘Breathe in,’ I say quietly, taking a long inhale. He does as I say. The familiarity of this feels like deja vu. I can’t count the number of times we stood together, exactly like this, breathing out his panic attacks when he’d come to me after something happened with his dad. Sometimes, it feels like no time has passed between us – we’re still just two kids, there for each other, who love each other so deeply, it consumes everything around us. ‘Breathe out.’ We both exhale, long and hard. Repeating this action, we stay like this for a few moments, until we both feel okay enough to stay upright without the other’s support.
‘Fuck, I’m sorry,’ Mason mutters, raking his hand through his hair. ‘I didn’t mean to make this already fucking terrible day about me.’
‘You didn’t.’
‘I’m here to support you, not the other way around.’
‘We lean on each other. You’re a part of my family, too, Mase. We’re in this together. This affects you just as much as it affects me.’
Yanking me towards him, he dips his head low and captures my mouth in his. The kiss is short, but filled with intensity and heat. It wraps me up in a brief moment of bliss before we breathlessly part.
Within a second of our bodies separating, reality hits me, crushing me to the point I almost stagger under the weight of it.
I need to hold it together. I need to get through this.
Silently, we gather our things and head out the door.
The rest of the trip seems relatively quick – maybe because I desperately want the car to just keep driving, with no destination in sight. When we pull up to the address to the morgue my mother gave me, what I’m about to do sinks in. If I had anything left inside me, I’m sure I would be throwing it all back up in this moment.
‘Do you want me to be there or stay here?’ Mason asks, resting a hand on my knee.
‘I don’t know,’ I whisper. ‘I’m not sure anyone that isn’t family can go inside.’
‘Okay. I’m right here. If you need me.’
‘I always need you,’ I admit with a small smile.
His grip on my knee tightens for a moment before he releases me.
With reluctance, I open the door and step outside.
33
MASON
I CAN’T STOP THINKINGabout all of it.
Leaning my head against the headrest, I reach for my phone and call Zayden. After a few rings, the call connects.
‘Hey,’ he says.
