“Seriously, go,” I argue. “You have appointments to keep, and so do I.”
As much as I appreciate his support, I need to stand on my own two feet and not depend on it. And he needs to learn that he doesn’t always need to rescue me.
His jaw tightens. “Beck,” he says, with a warning in his voice.
“Ryan.” I plant my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes.
“Actually,” Banks interrupts our standoff. “I asked April to reschedule everyone’s appointments for the day. I want to get this cleaned up, and I’ve called a buddy to come and install new security lights and cameras for the front and back of the building. It’s something I should have done years ago and just kept putting off.”
“Oh. Okay.” I let out a long breath, shoulders slumping.
Fuck my life. Another day without pay. One step forward, ten steps backwards.
Ryan cups the back of my neck with his palm and leans down to my ear. “Go with Mason. I’ll wait for you out here.”
There’s no sense in arguing with him further; I can save that for later.
Taking one last glance at the wall, I say to Mason, “Let’s go around to the front.”
I don’t look back when I hear the pressure washer kick on. Water slamming against the bricks, washing away the hurtful words I was meant to see.
The sound follows me around the corner until we reach the front. Thankfully, Braden didn’t paint this wall. There would be a lot more tongues wagging if he did.
Mason reaches past me and pulls the glass door open. Warm air engulfs us as we walk through reception towards my private studio space.
April has the phone tucked between her shoulder and ear. She gives me a sad smile as we pass.
Opening the door, I flick on the overhead lights and gesture towards a worn leather chair for Mason to sit in. I choose the stool closest to my workbench.
He shuts the door behind him, and the only sound is the hum of the heater.
Lowering himself into the chair, he asks, “How are you holding up?”
“Fabulous.” The sarcasm is an unnecessary reflex response. Closing my eyes, I rub my forehead for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry. This is a lot.”
“It is. I have a few questions, and then I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Okay.” I rock in place as I play with the tail of my silk scarf.
“When was the last time you saw Braden?” he asks, pulling out a notebook and pen.
“Not since we saw him outside the bakery last month. And it was months before that.”
“When was the last time you spoke with him on the phone?”
“I don’t. I always decline his calls.” Raising my thumb to my mouth, I chew on the corner of my nail. “He still texts, but I have him blocked on all social media so he can’t reach me that way or comment on my posts.”
“Okay. When was the last time he contacted you?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take my phone from my crossbody bag. Punching in the passcode, I bring up Braden’s messages and hand it to Mason.
“Nothing since I was at the bar last Thursday night. To be honest, it’s the longest he has gone without contacting me since we broke up earlier this year. I thought slashing Ryan’s tires was his final fuck you and that he was done with me.” Shrugging, my eyes drop to the floor.
“Did you see him at the bar?” he asks as he scrolls through our last several messages.
“No.” I shake my head. “I looked around when the first message came through, but I didn’t see him.”
“Okay.” After a few minutes, he hands it back to me. “I may need you to bring it to the station at some point so we can copy the data.”
