I Need You Tonight

by Stina Lindenblatt

  “What happened?” she asked, voice soft.

  I told her everything, then burst into tears. She hugged me and held me tight. Still hugging me, she sent someone a text. A moment later that someone left the restaurant, along with my date for the night.

  They drove me home in silence, with me staring out the side window, tears dampening my cheeks, willing Nolan or Jared to phone me with an update—and at the same time willing them not to. I wasn’t sure if I could handle any more bad news about Mason.

  When we arrived at my house, I apologized for ending the evening so soon, then bailed. Simon didn’t say anything, not that there was much he could say. And in the end, I didn’t care if I never heard from him again. I would gladly remain single for the rest of my life if it meant Mason would be all right.

  Heidi walked me to the door. “I’m staying with you tonight.”

  I attempted to smile, but my facial muscles refused to obey. “I’d rather be alone, thanks.”

  Heidi frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’d feel better if I was here with you.”

  This time I did smile. “I know, but it’s not like I’m going to do anything stupid. I’m just tired. I’ll probably go to bed anyway.”

  She looked like she was about to argue, but something on my face must have caused her to change her mind. “Promise me you’ll call me as soon as you hear anything.”

  I nodded and let her hug me again.

  Inside the house, I grabbed a glass of milk and sat on the living room couch. The same couch I had made out on with Mason. But instead of letting those memories make me feel sadder, I pulled out the Die Hard DVD. As crazy as it sounded, I felt more connected to Mason while watching it. After it finished, I switched to Die Harder.

  At some point during the third movie, I must have drifted off to sleep. I woke to the vibrations from the smartphone still clutched in my hand.

  Nolan had sent me a text. He’s conscious but groggy. The doctor thinks he’ll be fine. He’ll be here for a few more days.

  Relief flooded me, and another round of sobs racked my body. Never before—other than when my mother died—had I ever felt so lost and confused.

  None of the problems associated with gambling addictions were new to me. But, I realized, things with Mason were different from how they’d been with my father. And it wasn’t only that my father had shot himself in the head to end his life. After Mason’s first ride with a gambling addiction, he had turned his life around. He had been able to control it—until something triggered him and sent him into a downward spiral again. My father had never been able to control the beast, and it destroyed him.

  I texted Nolan back, thanking him, and asked him to keep me updated. Then I sent a text to my brother: Call me! He deserved to hear about Mason from me and not find out about it through social media.

  He called a few minutes later. “What’s wrong?” he said, his voice sounding like he would’ve crawled through the phone line if he could have, just to be with me.

  “It’s Mason.” I told him what had happened and everything Nolan had told me. “The physician said Mason should be all right.” I didn’t mention that Mason had fallen off the deep end when it came to the gambling and drinking. I didn’t want to worry my brother any more than absolutely necessary. He was away on his tour of duty—he wouldn’t be able to help Mason this time.

  I also didn’t ’fess up when it came to my feelings toward Mason. That was the last thing Zack needed to know.

  We talked for a couple of minutes more, and then I let him go.

  I turned the movie off and went upstairs to bed. I couldn’t fall asleep, though. I lay awake until the weak sunlight peeked through the gap in the curtains. Then I plodded downstairs and made myself an extra-strong cup of coffee. Standing at the kitchen window, I sipped the hot drink and stared numbly at the world. Beatrice’s kitchen light was also on. Familiar with her morning schedule, and knowing what I needed to do, I took a long sip of my coffee before bolting upstairs.

  I returned a minute later in jeans and an oversized Pushing Limits hoodie, shoved my sneakers on, and hurried out the door with my cellphone in hand…in time to see Beatrice step out of her house with an eager Bernie. He practically dragged her out the door.

  I ran across my small lawn to her adjoining lot. “Hey, do you mind if I take Bernie for a walk?”

  Bernie gave me an enthusiastic woof. I took that as a Yes, I’m fully on board with that plan, and held out my hand for his leash.

  Beatrice grinned at me. “You know you’re welcome to walk him anytime you wish, Nicole. But is there a particular reason why you want to do that? Maybe to meet that nice gentleman down the street who likes walking his English bulldog at this time?” She winked at me, and despite everything I giggled. That nice gentleman was about sixty-five years old and had quite the crush on Beatrice, as far as I could tell.

  “You’ve found me out,” I said. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said hi.”

  She chuckled. “You do that.” She didn’t ask about Mason, the way she had when I first returned from touring with the band. If news about his accidental overdose had been leaked, she hadn’t heard it yet. Which came as no surprise. It wasn’t as if she listened to the kind of radio station that would’ve given two shits about the rock band.

  Bernie and I went for a long walk, checking out the Christmas decorations and lights adorning the houses in the neighborhood. I tried to get into the holiday spirit. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get past how they reminded me of Atlantic City, with its bright lights and over-the-top decorations.

  While we walked, I told Bernie about Heidi’s and my plans for the store’s grand reopening, and he daydreamed about chasing squirrels down the street. My goal of not thinking about Mason was a bust, but that was nothing new since returning to Desert Springs.

  My phone chirped in my hand. Bernie stopped and looked over his shoulder in interest. I checked who was calling and my hand shook. I didn’t know why. Nolan had already told me that Mason was conscious and was expected to make a full recovery. Callie wasn’t phoning to give me bad news.

  At least I hoped she wasn’t.

  “Hi,” I said, forcing the word out like it was a reluctant baby bird, not ready to take its first flight.

  Deciding the conversation between Callie and me could take awhile, Bernie plunked down on the grass next to the sidewalk and eyed the fake donkey guarding the baby Jesus in the manger near us. Faith and hope—weren’t they what Christmas was all about? Too bad I was fresh out of both.

  “Hey, I wanted to see how you were doing,” she said, her words full of compassion. I took this as a good sign. She would have sounded more broken up if anything had happened to Mason.

  I gave a short laugh, the sound more pained than filled with humor. “I’m not sure. I can’t believe he would do something like that. And I have no idea what I should do. Do I go there and see him? Do I leave him alone? I just don’t know.”

  “Do you still love him?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “No matter what he did, I still love him. I’m trying not to, but so far that’s not working too well for me.”

  “That’s what I thought. I figured you might want to know that Mason checked himself in to rehab.”

  “He did? Aren’t the guys still touring?”

  “They’ve canceled the rest of their dates for the next month. Then they’ll wait to see what happens. If he’s out by then, they’ll resume touring.” She didn’t sound too disappointed that the band would be taking an extended break. And I doubted Logan would be too disappointed either.

  “Can I visit him?” I blurted out without thinking.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted after a heartbeat. “I want to see him, but I don’t want to hurt him either.”

  Callie let out a long breath. “I know.”

  Chapter 34

  Nicole

  The Spanish-style building beckone
d me with its peaceful exterior, as did the lush green plants grouped along the curved stone pathway. The rehab center didn’t resemble the sterile institution I had originally expected. It looked more like a fancy spa. Although from what I’d read about the place, it did offer treatments similar to those found in a spa.

  I caught sight of a stray butterfly flitting about the purple flowers on the leafy vines tangled around the tall metal fence between stone columns. The butterfly seemed happy to be here. I only hoped Mason would be that happy when he saw me.

  I’d done as Callie had suggested, waiting two weeks before visiting, but as I walked to the front entrance, palms sweaty, I wondered if my being here was a big mistake. Maybe it was too soon to visit him. Maybe I shouldn’t have come at all, so he could move on with his life.

  I stood in front of the entrance, deliberating whether I should turn around or go in. Mason had no idea I was coming, so it wasn’t like he would think I’d abandoned him yet again if I didn’t show up. But I also knew that was what a coward would do, and when it came to Mason, I wasn’t a coward. He needed to know that I hadn’t turned my back on him like his family had. I had done what was best for both of us. Or so I kept telling myself.

  I removed my phone from my purse and, with a long sigh, called the one person whose voice I really needed to hear right now. The one person who didn’t know about my feelings for Mason.

  Zack answered after a few rings. “Hey, sis. How’s everything going?”

  “Great.” Or not. “I’m about to visit Mason in rehab.” I attempted to sound casual about it, like I would if announcing I was at the grocery store to buy bananas.

  Zack didn’t say anything at first, and for a second I thought we might have been disconnected. “Is there something I don’t know that maybe I should?” he eventually asked. “Or rather something that I’ve suspected but figured I had to be wrong about, because Mason isn’t your type?”

  “If you mean do I have feelings for him, strong feelings”—now was probably not the time to tell him that I was in love with Mason—“then the answer is yes. He’s my friend and I want to make sure he’s doing okay.”

  “Nicole, this is me you’re talking to. You’ve never been good at lying to me.”

  True. But usually he had to see me to know I was lying. “So we can save time here,” I said, “what answer are you really looking for?”

  “Are you in love with Mason?” He didn’t sound at all surprised—or too upset.

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Even now that you know about his past?” I had already filled Zack in on what I’d found out about his involvement when Mason had attempted suicide all those years ago. And he knew that Mason had recently relapsed.

  “Yes, even though I know about his past.”

  “And nothing I can say will change that?”

  I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “Nothing.”

  He let out a long breath. “Well, good luck. Just know that I’m here if you need me.”

  “Thanks.”

  We said our goodbyes, with him hinting heavily that I should tell Mason that Zack would come after him if he hurt me. I just rolled my eyes and ended the call.

  I opened the front door and stepped into the lobby, which instantly made me think of a high-end hotel. The Spanish-style architecture continued in here too, but the area had also been decorated for Christmas, with a huge fake pine tree covered in white lights standing proud in the corner.

  Rich wooden support beams ran across the ceiling, further adding warmth to the place, as did the patterned tapestries covering the white walls and the sconces on either side of the artwork. Classical Christmas music played in the background.

  I walked to the reception desk, my heels clicking against the wooden floor. The woman behind the desk looked up from her computer and smiled as I approached.

  “Good afternoon. How can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m Nicole McCormick. I was told it would be okay to visit Mason Dell?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question.

  “Is he expecting you?”

  I shook my head. “No.” The word came out as a squeak, and I coughed to make it sound like I had to clear my throat.

  She tapped on her keyboard and studied the screen. “He’s in a counseling session right now, but as soon as he’s out, I’ll have someone tell him you’re here.”

  “Thanks.” Clutching Mason’s Christmas present in my hand, I walked over to an empty armchair and sat down.

  A variety of magazines lay scattered on the coffee table. I picked up a home decorating one and leafed through it, pretending to be fascinated with the pictures. Pretending not to be thinking about how much I missed the guys in the band, how much I missed touring with them and my old job, and how much I missed Mason.

  One page caught my attention. The article contained a picture of dishes with floral and butterfly designs painted on them. Each design was simple yet beautifully elegant.

  “Nicole McCormick?” a female voice said as an idea for my glass etchings took shape.

  My head jerked up. “Yes?”

  “Hello. I’m Suzanne Prescott,” said a woman in her forties wearing a long-sleeved knit dress and heels. “I understand you’ve come to visit Mason?”

  Fear reached inside me and silenced my tongue. Fear that Mason had refused to see me. Fear that he was saving the rejection to throw in my face. Not that I didn’t deserve it.

  When I didn’t answer, she said, “He’s in the garden. Let me take you to him.”

  “Does he know I’m here?”

  “Yes.” I longed to ask what Mason’s reaction had been when he found out I was here, but I had a feeling not knowing was a better idea. I was nervous enough as it was. So I got up and followed her down a hallway and out an exit at the back of the building.

  The first thing I saw out there was a patio with a large built-in hot tub. Small groupings of wicker chairs surrounded the area. Beyond that, palm trees stood tall against the blue sky.

  “As you can see,” Suzanne said, her tone easy, as if we were doing nothing more than chatting about the weather, “our goal is to help our clients relax and to find other ways to fill the perceived void the lack of drugs, alcohol, or gambling leaves behind. Depending on the weather, we conduct our early morning yoga sessions out here too.”

  I scanned the area, feeling as though as an army of moths were slapping their wings against my stomach in an attempt to flee. And that’s when I saw him.

  The moths grew suddenly still, their frantic movements replaced by the desperate beating of my heart. He hadn’t noticed me yet. He was standing at the far edge of the patio, gazing off at the mountains in the distance, his back to me. Even from where I was standing, I could make out the muscles under his T-shirt, each one strained with tension. Not at all what you would expect to find in such a relaxing environment. Which meant it had nothing to do with him being here and everything to do with me.

  As if sensing me watching him, he turned toward me. An assortment of emotions washed across his face. Happiness at seeing me wasn’t one of them.

  My heart sagged in my chest, the sadness too much for it. Even after my mother had died, it hadn’t felt like this. I shouldn’t have come.

  Suzanne gently nudged my arm, encouraging me forward. Easy for her. Mason was just a client to her. He was the man I loved, the man I had turned my back on when things got tough and I couldn’t cope.

  I still couldn’t cope.

  Mason continued to remain rigid. I gave him a tentative smile, searching for a sign that he understood why I’d had to walk away from him in Atlantic City…and why I would have to walk away again.

  “I’ll leave you two to talk,” Suzanne said. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my office.”

  Mason and I nodded. I waited for her to be out of hearing range before saying, “So…how’s it going?” I smoothed a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Good. You?”

  “Great. Bloom
ing Love is almost ready to open. The contractors did a great job with the renovation. The store looks even better than before.” I was babbling, but I couldn’t help it. It was that or fling myself into Mason’s arms, and from the cautiousness in his tone, I didn’t think he would appreciate me doing that.

  I shifted on my feet, the Christmas present suddenly heavy in my hand. I held it out to him. “It’s a few days early, but…merry Christmas.”

  Mason didn’t move for a second, then took the small box and freed it from the wrapping. He opened the lid and removed a man’s bracelet, which consisted of a string of small purple amethyst and black onyx beads. A tiny silver butterfly charm dangled from it.

  “It’s a healing bracelet,” I said, immediately feeling stupid for giving it to him. According to the website I had ordered it from, the gemstones were supposed to support recovery from addictions. I had no idea if it was true or not…just as I had no idea whether Mason would throw the bracelet in the trash once I left.

  “Thank you.” His voice was low, without a hint of emotion. To me it felt like a blunt knife thrust into my gut. I reeled back a half step.

  He slipped the bracelet on. “I wasn’t expecting you. I didn’t get you anything,” he said, still studying at it.

  “You don’t have to give me anything. You being alive is enough of a gift.” My voice cracked on the word “alive,” and I blinked away the tears threatening to reveal how much his reaction hurt.

  His head snapped up, eyes narrowed to slits. “I didn’t mean to overdose. I wasn’t trying to commit suicide.”

  “I know,” I said softly. “It was an accident.” I wrapped my arms around myself.

  Mason turned his head toward the mountains, the tension in his muscles even tighter now. He stayed like this for several seconds before releasing a heavy breath, as though the weight of the world was sitting square on his shoulders and he had no idea what to do with it.

  Suddenly he turned back to me and closed the distance between us. Before I could react, his arms encircled me. At first his hold on me was loose, his arms slightly stiff, as if he was afraid to touch me, but then he pulled me against his body and relaxed into me.