“It’s a lot to process.”
Can’t argue that, and when the other guys start in on more Eastern Crush gossip, I don’t get the chance.
“Oh my god, check this out.” Aaron is practically cry-laughing when he passes us his phone with a meme of Rob looking bored at an awards show. The caption reads: “When you realize there’s no category for Biggest Asshole.”
“Yeah, well, at least no one’s talking about us and Mason anymore,” Mitch mutters.
“Except to say they never believed the bullshit in the first place and Mason is God’s gift to rock,” Aaron says with a smirk. “Dude, you went from a ghetto drug dealer to fucking Male Model Prince Charming within the span of a weekend. How the hell did that happen?”
Mason cracks a smile and pushes up from the couch. “Mind if I grab a water?” he asks me.
I study him, still not buying his act. “Sure. I’ll get it for you.”
He starts to cut me off but stops when I’m already on my feet and pushing him toward the kitchen. Our open floor plan means there will be no visual privacy, but I should be able to sneak in a few words at least.
He must have been serious about the water because he starts going through cabinets for a glass the second we arrive.
“Next to the fridge,” I say. He redirects his efforts and pulls one from the shelf. “Water is filtered but we have bottles as well.”
“Tap is fine.”
He starts filling his glass from the fridge, while I lean back against the counter and face him.
“Want to tell me what’s really going on?” I cross my arms, not missing his deer-in-headlights frustration at the speed of the water stream. Nope, that spout is painfully slow, buddy. You’re stuck.
“I said I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. Because you look super fine right now.”
His lips lift in a half-smirk that makes my sarcasm disturbingly accurate.
“You know what I mean,” I say. “I’m being facetious. Like, you don’t look fine fine, even if you always look fine. As in, I’m not saying you’re hot, just that… Ugh, whatever!” I throw up my hands and shove past him.
At least he’s laughing again. “What’s actually happening right now?”
I spin back to face him, my retort freezing on my tongue. Clearly, I have no idea either and let out a chuckle. Secrets be damned. I need to hug him.
Sighing, I lean into his side and wrap my arm around his waist. His free arm slips around my shoulders in response, and I close my eyes at the discreet kiss he presses to my hair.
“I’m okay. Really. It’s just a lot to take in,” he murmurs against me.
“Promise you’ll talk to me if there’s more going on? No more hiding in dark bedrooms by yourself?”
I tilt my head up to read his expression.
“Promise.”
Maybe I believe him. Maybe my gaze also gets caught on his incredible lips in the exchange. Maybe I forget where we are and accidently land a kiss. Startled, he pulls back, his own gaze snapping to the couches mere yards away. Shit. I suck in a breath and dare a look as well. Sure enough, three stunned faces stare back at us.
“No. Fucking. Way,” Mitch whispers.
“Don’t freak out. It’s not a big deal,” I say, crossing back to them. I drop to the couch and rest my feet on the coffee table, doing a decent job of projecting, “This is so fine, and I’m not about to lose my lunch,” if I do say so myself. Mason looks guilty and uncertain, though, which I don’t like. None of this is his fault.
“How long?” Aaron asks. Yeah, he’s not happy.
“Not long,” I say.
“I guess not, considering you’ve only known each other for what, two months?” He jumps to his feet, jaw clenched, fingers flexing at his side. I glare at him, but he only digs in further on his resistance. Okay, yep. “Pissed” is accurate. “You really think this is a good career move, dude,” he barks at Mason. “Come in here and start fucking my sister right out of the gate? After what she just went through with our last lead? After we stood by you? Defended you?”
Mason’s face shatters at the attack. He doesn’t say a word, just lowers his eyes in silence. Me? Not so much.
“Stop it, Aaron! None of that is fair, and you know it. You have no clue what really happened!”
“No, I don’t. But now I know he’s no better than Chris or Rob. Ironic, isn’t it? Guess you were right about him after all, Lib,” Aaron shouts, storming past Mason on his way to his room. A door slams in the distance just as my phone rings.
Shit.
Sam’s name lights up on the display, and I gather my composure to answer it.
“Hey, Sam.”
“Hey, Liberty. Is everyone there?”
“Everyone except Aaron. He’s… not feeling well.”
“Oh no. I hope it’s not serious.”
“No, just—”
“He’s pissed that Liberty and Mason are fucking each other,” Tivo blurts out.
We all turn to him in shocked unison. His face reddens, and I almost laugh at the absurdity of it all. That’s officially the longest sentence we’ve ever heard from his mouth. Mitch’s jaw is on the floor.
“Dude,” he hisses, smacking Tivo’s arm.
Tivo shakes his head, lifting his hands in “I don’t know what just happened.”
“Wow. Um. Okay,” Sam says, interrupting our private exchange. “I didn’t… Okay. Well then, where should we begin?”
After we wrap our call with Sam, I head up to the bedrooms to find my brother. I’m not thrilled about leaving Mason in his current state. The man said almost nothing in the meeting that largely revolved around him. Even worse, his expression has slipped back to an emotionless void. As painful as it was, I almost preferred the open devastation after Aaron’s accusations than the closed-off shell I’m getting now. But fixing that problem requires a one-on-one with my brother, so I try to put all of that out of my head as I approach Aaron’s room.
“Go away,” he calls out when I knock.
I push through his door and lean against it on the other side. Yeah, we’re twins. We don’t do boundaries.
“I don’t want to see you right now.”
“Wait? Does that actually work? Wish I’d known that years ago,” I say, pushing off the door and lowering myself to the edge of his bed. He scowls at me from his reclined position, then returns his attention to the TV.
I swipe the remote off the bed and turn it off.
“Hey!”
“You can have it back after we work this out.”
“There’s nothing to work out.”
“Nope, nothing at all. It’s totally cool that you hate your sister and your frontman and just missed an extremely important phone call from your manager to watch—what was that? A rerun of a playoff game from five years ago?”
He’s trying not to smile. I’ll take it.
“I don’t hate you. Only him.”
“Yeah that’s not gonna work for me since I’m the one you should be hating.”
“Really?” he snaps. “Because he’s the one taking advantage of you. You’re just coming off a tough breakup. You’re not thinking clearly, and he knows it.”
“Oh yeah? You know him soo well, huh?”
“I don’t have to. He’s a guy.”
I love my brother, but sometimes he’s a total imbecile.
“He’s a guy?”
“You know what I mean. He’s wired to think with his dick. He’s not gonna think about you and what you’ve just been through with Chris.”
“Me?” I shoot back in disbelief. “You think I’m the one to worry about? What about him? Chris dumped me, boohoo. The mother of his child fucking died in a car he was driving. You’re talking about a guy who gave up his entire life for his little girl and has done nothing but sacrifice since then. You honestly think he’s going to risk everything for a piece of ass? Do you know how many girlfriends he’s had since Katrina?”
Aaron’s eyes narrow at the wall.
Telltale sign I’m getting through, and he’s not happy about it.
“None. Not. One.”
“Until you.”
“I didn’t really give him a choice.”
He studies me again, and I shrug.
“It’s true. I pursued him. I was afraid to because I knew this was how it would turn out, but well, he’s amazing, and I couldn’t miss out on amazing just because people like my idiot brother might not understand.”
My idiot brother blinks back at the empty television screen, his brow scrunched in concentration instead of anger. Time to pull out all the stops.
“Aaron, come on. You know he’s different. I know you know, and that’s why you’re upset. Because for one brief second he seemed less than perfect and it hurt. Believe me, I get it, but his feelings for me aren’t a flaw, and our relationship isn’t a fling. He is so far from Chris and Rob that it’s insulting to speak their names in the same sentence. Do you have any idea what your comment probably did to him? Did you see his face before you stormed off?”
Mason’s face. Emotion starts pooling in my chest at the memory. This is all my fault. Once again, he has to pay the price because of me.
Aaron draws in a deep breath and drops his arms to the bed. “Shit, Lib. Do you have any idea how hard it was watching you go through all that crap with Chris? There’s no fucking way I could handle that again.”
“Yes, I do, because I had to watch you after Julia. And then Ania. And Brenna. And Angela. And—Damn, you’ve been dumped a lot. What is wrong with you?”
He shoves me. After a moment our humor fades, and we settle back into silence.
“Remember what Dad said when we first started getting noticed?” I ask after a long pause.
“Yeah,” he huffs dryly. “‘Fame is the enemy of respect.’ He didn’t think there was any way we could make it without somehow sullying the family name. ‘Every star will eventually fall. There are too many bombs in the sky.’”
“Guess he was right,” I say with a snicker.
Aaron chuckles as well, his gaze softening on mine. “Maybe. Or maybe we’ve just learned how much that shit doesn’t matter. No one can touch our integrity, only talk and lie about it.”
I take his hand and squeeze. “Exactly. So please don’t do it to Mason. He needs us more than ever. Don’t be another liar in his life. You have no idea how many of those he already has.”
Aaron shudders out a sigh and squeezes back before letting go. “Fuck, he’s a decent guy, huh.”
“To be honest, my first thought when you stormed off was that you were jealous he chose me over you.”
Aaron smirks. “Whatever, loser.”
“Who you callin’ a loser, loser?”
He returns my grin and clasps my hand in our patented Blake-Twins handshake.
“We good?” I ask, searching his eyes.
“We’re good.”
We release each other, and he grabs the remote. “Now go check on your boyfriend. I’ll call him later to smooth things over.”
“Later? Why not now?”
He rolls his eyes and turns up the volume. “At least let me wait until halftime.”
I grunt and shove him again before rising from the bed. But I’m not too mad. After all, deep down I kind of want to be the one to tell Mason that Aaron’s on board. Okay, so maybe I also want to kiss him. And hold him. And stare into crazy deep eyes that make me stupid.
I hop down the staircase two at a time, humming with each step. The universe is ours again—I feel it—until I reach the main living area. Mitch and Tivo look over from the couch.
“Where’s Mason?” I ask, my stomach dropping.
“We don’t know,” Mitch says. “He said he was going out for some air and never came back.”
CHAPTER 22
I’m so excited for Western Crush’s show tonight! My parents said they’d watch Brooklyn, which means I can actually go. It’s been ages since I’ve seen Mason play. I can’t tell you how much I miss that magical side of him. Mason and music. Tonight is exactly what we need to get things back on track and rekindle the connection that brought us together. I’m practically giddy at the thought of watching my man on stage again.
Oh and guess what! It’s snowing!! First of the year!! This night must have been written in the stars. Could today be the day his sun finally starts to rise?
MASON
“He’s no better than Chris or Rob…”
He’s not. He’s worse.
I pull in another ragged breath, praying the roar of the plane engine will drown out the voices in my head. Too bad white noise only seems to amplify internal screams. I know my eyes are heavy and red-rimmed. I caught a glimpse of the monster in the tiny cabin restroom a minute ago, and damn he’s grotesque today.
Rose and Gary were right to send me away alone. I had no business taking Brooklyn with me on this fool’s errand. Better she enjoys a weekend of oblivion with Grandma and Grandad. I’m a fucking disaster right now and no good to anyone, let alone my daughter who deserves so much better.
I pass on drink service when the flight attendant rolls by with her cart. Snacks too. I just need this fucking plane to land.
At least I didn’t check a bag, so once we finally reach the ground at Philadelphia International Airport, it’s just a direct walk from the gate to the rental-car desk. I sign the papers, take the keys, and… I have no clue. I throw my carryon in the back of the car, turn the ignition—and drive.
An hour north.
Twenty minutes west.
Another ten north.
To mile marker 79.
By now my eyes are beyond red and burning. They’re drowning. Soaked in pain from past scars and fresh wounds. The wreath is still here. The tattered remains of a teddy bear and silk flowers too. So many faded reminders of the worst night of my life, now neglected and serving only to warn the occasional driver to slow down or this could be their memorial. But it’s not. It’s hers, and I sink to the ground beside it. Seven whole seconds until the fucking monster is sobbing, pulling his knees to his chest to shield his demon from the world. He’s remembering the night he wishes he could forget, reliving events he wishes he could reverse. Or rewrite. What if it had been him? Wouldn’t this whole fucking world be a beautiful place if Brooklyn had a mother and Rose and Gary a daughter?
It’s raining in Pennsylvania, cold for a late October afternoon. Perfect for a traitor who tried to run to the sun in Los Angeles. Because this is where the monster belongs. Fucking freezing and lost and alone on the side of a road. Right in the same place he left his girlfriend almost four years ago.
Except unlike Katrina Holloway, the monster gets to push himself up after he shatters. He can brush the mud off his jeans, limp back to the car and start the engine. Unlike the beautiful girl this place barely remembers, he gets to pull onto the highway, swat at his eyes with his sleeve, and face one more second of being a monster.
I’m not surprised by my car’s second stop. After the first, I should have known the Reidville Lutheran Church cemetery would be next on this tour from hell. The sun has completely disappeared by the time I pull up to the gate, and the chill of the afternoon has given way to the biting cold of night. The rain also blocks any hope of a moon as I slosh through mud and puddles toward the asphalt walking track.
It’s a long trek to Katrina. Recent graves are located far from the 18th century stones at the front. I used to walk past these old memorials with sick fascination. Marveling at the ancient dates that seemed too distant to be real. Were there really people living and dying here 250 years ago? They probably perished from something crazy too. Like an infected hangnail or impacted tooth. The violent, horrific deaths are reserved for the headstones in the back. The ones where modern medicine means someone really had to fuck up to put a nineteen-year-old girl in the ground.
I’m shivering by the time I reach her row, practically trembling by the time I find her stone. It’s almost impossible to see this far out, so I try to illuminat
e her name with the flashlight on my phone, doing my best to shield the device from the rain that’s gone from a steady stream to full-on downpour. But it’s a losing battle. I have no choice but to tuck it back in my jeans and hope for the best. No way that thing survives tonight, and I couldn’t care less.
“Hey, sunshine,” I whisper, lowering myself to the soggy ground. My knees sink into the mud, and I’ve lost all feeling in my hands at this point. That’s what happens when you fly home to the icy shadows after chasing a California sun.
“I know it’s been a couple of months since I’ve come by. I’m sorry for that.”
I’m shaking too much to balance on my knees and have to turn and press my back against the monument instead. I lean my head against the stone and close my eyes as the rain pelts my face.
Your daughter is beautiful, Kat. I wish you could see her tantrums. Those are my favorite. She looks exactly like you when her brows knit together and she glares at me like the world is about to end. If she had your vocabulary I know she’d tell me to “shut the hell up, Mason!”
A smile tries to spread over my frozen lips. I feel the muscles tug at resistant skin.
Then it dies.
I don’t even know why I’m here. I just didn’t know where else to go. Because I tried, Kat. I tried so hard to be enough, to make the sun rise. I tried to be everything you always thought I could be, everything our daughter needs, but I can’t. I can’t make the sun rise no matter how hard I try. It just keeps setting again and again and again when I face west. Always fucking crashing from the sky.
So what am I supposed to do? Tell me what to do because I’m so lost.
I don’t even know if I’m crying. My face is too wet from rain, too cemented from cold to be anything. Maybe I’m just another headstone now.
Here lies Mason West.
“I’m so tired, Kat,” I breathe out loud. So, so tired. So…
I close my eyes, relieved when a warm dark curtain starts to settle over me. First it consumes my vision. Then my aching, frozen body. Then my broken heart.
Rising West: A Turner Artist Rocker Novel (The Turner Artist Rocker Series Book 1) Page 19
