Book Boyfriend Series Collector's Edition Boxed Set

by Erin Noelle

  I hung up the phone and did just as I said I would, I called the airlines and booked a seat on the next flight out which was in an hour and a half. I didn’t even bother to stop and think about Ash and his family in the other room. Luckily, I kept some clothes over his house so that I wouldn’t have to always bring a bag back and forth. I began frantically throwing enough for a few days into a bag and mentally going through what all I needed for the flight. As I was going through my purse checking for my driver’s license and cash, Ash walked into the room with a confused look on his face.

  “Is everything okay, Butterfly? Why are you packing a bag? What’s going on?” He was looking around the bed trying to figure out what was going on.

  I knew that he wasn’t going to be happy that I was bailing on him and his family and this meal that we had prepared for Mason, but I had no choice. I had to go to him.

  “Please don’t get upset, but Cruz just called. Jobu’s Rum is in Miami and Mason overdosed last night. He’s in bad shape at the hospital. They aren’t sure if he’s gonna make it Ash.” It wasn’t until I had to say the words out loud that the tears came. “I just booked a flight. I leave in a little over an hour. Please understand that I have to go.”

  The disappointment showed all over his face, but instead of giving me any grief, he nodded his head. “Okay, Scarlett, whatever you think you need to do.”

  “I’m so, so sorry love. If he doesn’t live, I would never forgive myself for not going. I at least need to see him.”

  I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me. I knew he was frustrated with the situation, but being the person he was, he tried to hide it for my sake. He slid his arms around my waist and kissed my forehead.

  “Go do what you need to do. I’ll explain it to my family and I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back, okay?”

  I nodded my head, trying to keep more tears from coming for saying goodbye to him. I leaned up and kissed him hard on the lips. He returned the kiss with just as much force, sliding his tongue into my mouth, rolling it against mine. It almost felt as if he was claiming me with the kiss, or reminding me that I belonged to him, since a reminder fuck wasn’t an option at the moment. We reluctantly pulled away from one another.

  “I love you, Ash; I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “I know, Butterfly. I love you, too. Call me when you get there so that I know you arrived safely and let me know how he is. No matter what history I have with him, I never want anything bad to happen to him.”

  On my way to the airport I called Max to let him know what was going on. He was angry that I didn’t call him immediately, saying that he would’ve come with me, but I explained to him that this was something I needed to do on my own. At some point I had to stop relying on other people to be my crutch when dealing with tough times. Having dependable family and friends to support and comfort me was a blessing, but it was time I flew with my own wings. An hour later as the plane ascended into the air, I did just that.

  Walking through Miami International Airport at nearly nine o clock on Christmas evening was like walking through a ghost town. All of the restaurants and gift shops were closed and the airport staff was minimal. I think I only passed maybe five or six other travelers in the entire building. Thankfully, I didn’t have to go to baggage claim since I only had my one carry on, so I followed the signs to the taxi pick up. Every minute I got closer to seeing Mason, the anxiety and fear continued to build. I had no idea what to expect, what he would look like, if they would even let me see him.

  I first called Cruz to let him know that I had arrived and to see if I should go to the hospital or hotel first. He instructed me to meet him at the hotel because it wasn’t visiting hours again at the hospital until eight in the morning. I had completely forgotten to call and book a room, but he told me not to worry, that I could just stay in Mase’s room. I then called Ash and Max to let them know that I had landed safely and was headed to the hotel.

  The entire taxi ride to the hotel I beat myself up over being partly to blame for Mason’s condition. I had dropped a huge bomb on him at the wedding that night, not only did I completely reject his plea for a chance to work things out, I also told him I had slept with one of his good friends. I wasn’t sure what to believe exactly about the phone call I had with Bentley that night, but after his reaction to what I had assumed was his choice to be with her, I was pretty sure that nothing had happened. That made me feel even more responsible for the downward spiral that had led to this awful outcome.

  If I had just demanded to talk to Mase that night, or even waited until the following morning when he was coming home to talk to him, and get his side of the story before making unfounded assumptions . . . If I had not got so drunk that I couldn’t keep myself from making senseless decisions . . . If I had not been so hurtful and ugly to him when he came to the wedding . . . If I had checked on him after leaving him in that state, I knew by just looking at him he was probably close to self-destruction.

  As the taxi pulled up to the hotel and all I was left with was a bunch of “what-ifs.” I had become a true believer in fate and destiny and everything happening for a reason. Once Ash and I had gotten together, I realized that he truly was the other half of my soul, and the undying, eternal love that we shared was the key to my happiness. But it didn’t make it any easier knowing that a man I loved, a man that played a huge role in making me the person who I had become, was lying in a hospital bed on the other side of the city fighting for his life . . . and that I was most likely one of the main reasons he was there. With a defeated sigh, I opened the door and climbed out of the car after paying the fare and adding a nice tip.

  The outside of the hotel was beautiful, a four-story, white trendy building, located oceanfront and right in the middle of what seemed to be the tourist area of the beach. It was dark outside when I arrived, and the outside lighting rose from the ground, illuminating the two large palm trees outside as well as the name spelled across the top floor: Bentley Hotel. Staying here was actually a blessing in disguise, as it reminded me that I wasn’t the only contributor to this horrible situation. I walked into the luxurious lobby hesitantly, unsure of where I should go exactly. I walked over and sat my bag on a large chair in a lounge area in order to call Cruz when I felt two strong arms wrap around me from behind.

  “Scarlett, I’m so glad you’re here,” Cruz said as his voice cracked.

  I turned around to face and hug him properly; when I saw his swollen red eyes and tear stained cheeks, I nearly lost it. Hugging him tightly, I tried to comfort him, “Oh Cruz, it’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay. Whatever happens . . . I promise.”

  After a few moments, he pulled back from me and grabbed my bag out of my chair. “Come on, Scarlett, it’s late. Let me take you up to the room so that you can rest. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

  We took the elevator to the top floor and he ushered me into a one bedroom suite that was absolutely gorgeous. Mason’s clothes were thrown about on the unmade bed and an empty bag of his favorite jalapeno chips was on the counter. Seeing his things caused a huge lump to form in my throat.

  “Well, make yourself at home; I know Rat would want you to,” he said, trying not to breakdown again.

  After I gave him another hug, thanked him for everything, and promised him I would call if I needed anything at all, he went down the hall to his room. At first I just stood there, not really sure what to do. I didn’t really want to go through any of his things, but I needed to put my bag away and order some room service, seeing that I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. In the bedroom I found the dinner menu and quickly called down to order a BLT and fries. I figured I had time to take a quick shower and get comfortable before the food arrived, so I hurried into the bathroom.

  Twenty minutes later, I was clean and changed and waiting for my dinner. I sat down on the couch to watch some mindless television when I saw Mase’s guitar propped against the end table.
I scooted over to grab it, hoping that some musical therapy would help much like it did after I lost Evie, when I saw the sheets of paper with music and lyrics scribbled all over them spread out on the table next to a mirror and razorblade.

  I knew that I probably should’ve left everything exactly where it was, but curiosity got the best of me, and I picked up the papers to see what he had been working on. Reading the words that he had poured out from his heart into that song broke me. Complete. Devastation.

  Need you, like the air I breathe

  My Angel, that’s what you are to me

  Watching you fall is tearing me apart

  When you leave there won’t be much left of my heart

  Drawn to him

  Pulled to him

  You just can’t stay away

  I know the end is near,

  Getting closer every day

  Your happiness is my happiness

  Simple but it’s true

  That’s why I can never clip your wings

  Could never stop you

  Because you are

  Drawn to him

  Pulled to him

  You just can’t stay away

  I know the end is near,

  Getting closer every day

  So go to him

  Be with him

  Set your soul free

  I only wish instead of him

  It had been me

  My perfect angel

  That’s what you’ll always be

  Yeah, that’s what you’ll always be

  There is not a word that exists that could do justice to the way I felt after I read those words. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt as if I was going to internally combust with the emotions pumping throughout my body. I picked up the small square mirror that he had obviously used for his drugs and chunked it across the room, shattering it against the wall. That didn’t make me feel any better. I continued to just sit there in the deafening silence , until I was startled by someone knocking on the door.

  “Room service,” a voice called out on the other side of the door.

  I jumped up and walked over to let him in, even though I suddenly had no appetite at all. After I signed the ticket and the guy left, I put the food on the table, grabbed my purse and sweater, and went to catch some fresh air. I walked at a snail’s pace down Ocean Drive, looking at all of the hotels, restaurants, gift shops, and tattoo parlors that lined the street. Everything was closed since it was nearly midnight on Christmas night; the serenity and peacefulness of what I was sure normally hectic and chaotic helped calm my manic state.

  A little ways down the street, I saw two seagulls walking side by side almost as if they were humans out for a stroll. I sat down on the curb and watched them waddle down the sidewalk toward me, every so often looking at each other as if they were talking. Seeing them made me think of Jonathan Livingston Seagull and reminded me of the lessons of self-forgiveness and courage he was forced to learn. As they got just in front of me, they stopped walking and stood for a split second, both looking right at me. They then took flight, flying off back behind me. I turned to watch them take off into the night’s sky when I noticed the building I had set down in front of: Eternal Truth Tattoo Shop.

  Knowing exactly what I needed to do, I jumped up and headed back to the hotel. Once in Mason’s/my room, I began cleaning up the broken mirror from earlier. I then cleaned his room completely and searched the internet until I found the perfect thing for the project I was going to tackle the following afternoon, anything to keep myself busy until I could get to the hospital. I finally fell asleep around four in the morning, but I had no problems getting up when the alarm clock went off three hours later. I was so anxious to see him. I needed to see him.

  Once I was ready to go, I called Cruz to let him know, grabbed Mason’s guitar case, and went to meet him on the lobby. As soon as he saw me get off the elevator, he hurried over to me and picked me up in a tight embrace. His eyes were still swollen but he looked much better than the night before.

  “Good morning, Scarlett,” he said borderline cheerfully while looking down at the guitar.

  “Morning, Cruz. Did you get some sleep?” I asked.

  “Yes, I did. I’m feeling much better. I have such a good feeling about you being here to see him. I can’t wait to get you to the hospital. So you are planning on playing music for him?”

  “Cruz,” I warned as we walked toward the door. “I’m not here to get back together with him, and I can’t promise that I’m gonna make anything better. I’m here because I love him as a person and I want him to get better for himself. And yes, I’m hoping that some music might help.”

  “Perfect, that’s all I can ask. Now come on.”

  On the ride to the hospital, Cruz gave me the background on what had happened. It was hard to hear the details, but I knew that I needed to know. He had told me that ever since they had gone on tour, that both Mason and Sebastian had unraveled out of control at an alarming rate. He said their music was already suffering from it because they were out all night doing who knows what and who knows who, and would then show up for practice strung out and looking like warmed over death. Christmas Eve night everyone had gone to some party at a producer’s house in South Beach, and Mason disappeared with some girl into the house. Hours later when everyone was ready to leave, they went searching for him. Smiley finally found him unconscious in a bathroom with a bunch of drugs and paraphernalia surrounding him. No one knew where the girl was but when they couldn’t get him to wake up for anything and his body was burning up hot, they took him straight to the ER.

  The taxi dropped us off at the front door, and I allowed Cruz to lead the way. We found out that they had moved him out of ICU because his vitals remained normal overnight, but he still had not woken up. We found our way to his new room, and Cruz insisted that I go in first by myself. He told me to take as long as I needed; he was going to go find some coffee.

  Walking into that room, seeing him hooked up to the IVs and machines, was harder than I thought it would be. I took a deep breath and walked toward his bed to get a better look at him. Setting the guitar down on the floor, I stood there for a minute just taking him in. He was pale and his face was thinner than normal. They had taken his lip ring out and his shaggy hair hadn’t been cut recently. It looked like him, but it didn’t. I reached out and gently rubbed my thumb over his cheek several times, but he did not react.

  I sat down in the chair next to him and got the guitar out of the case. I had searched all kinds of music the night before trying to find the right song to express my feelings and hopes for him. The first time I heard P!nk’s The Great Escape, I knew it was perfect.

  “Hi Mason, it’s me Scarlett. I’m here,” I began, feeling a bit awkward talking to an unconscious person. “I’m not sure if you can hear me or not, but I just want to tell that I came as soon as I heard what happened.” I took a deep breath trying to keep my cool and not break down crying. “I’m so upset with you doing this yourself. What are you thinking? Ugh . . . I may just kill you myself when you wake up,” I joked.

  “No, really, I’m not even sure what to say. So, I’m doing what all musicians do; I’m gonna sing to you how I feel. I really hope you can hear this . . .”

  Mindful that I was in a hospital and that there were people in the next rooms, I closed my eyes and quietly strummed my guitar, singing my heart out to the lifeless body that lay several feet from me. Through the lyrics I told him that I wasn’t going to allow him to escape this life; I was going to help him use the emotions that he was fighting to get rid of to give him a reason to be a better person; I wasn’t going to let him run away and take the coward’s way out like I had done so many times. I had learned through my own stupidity that wasn’t the answer, and how he had helped me build myself back up when I came back, I was going to do the same for him.

  Tears flooded my face, as I put every bit of feeling I had in singing the final lines to him. I opened my eyes and took a
deep breath. Staring back at me from the hospital bed were the beautiful gray eyes that I had come to love so much.

  “Am I in heaven now, Angel?”

  A TWIST IN MY STORY—SECONDHAND SERENADE

  SCARLETT

  Sitting in the chair at the tattoo shop I had sat in front of the day prior, I closed my eyes as the hum of the needle worked steadily across my left shoulder blade. I used the time to collect the thousands of thoughts running through my mind and to plan my next move. There were two things I knew for sure: One, the love I had found with Ash was a timeless, eternal love that only came along once in a lifetime. When I was with him, I truly felt complete. Two, I still loved Mase very much; it was a different kind of love, but love nonetheless. I could not allow him to destroy his life, especially when I felt an enormous amount of guilt as the primary cause for his downfall.

  I now had to figure out how to incorporate both of these men into my life without making a bigger mess than I already had. I had up and left Ash and his family on Christmas Day for my ex-boyfriend who had overdosed, and even though he seemed okay with it at the time, I was sure that discussions would ensue when I returned. If the roles had been reversed, I would’ve been furious. However, Mase needed me. He needed my help, love, and support to get his life back together. There was no way I was turning my back on him after the way he took me back when I had returned to Houston. He had helped me to learn to love myself by loving me, and I wanted to do the same for him.

  I owed my happiness to both of them. One taught me how to fly like an angel—to free my spirit, to accept forgiveness, and to love without restraint. The other had taught me to fly like a butterfly—to embrace change, to celebrate innocence and vulnerability, and to open up my soul. Together, they had both given me the courage and the strength to fly with my own wings.

  The tattoo artist tapped me to wake me from my daydream, and held up a mirror so that I could see the fresh ink on my back—the words Alis Volat Propriis with birds flying out of a feather off my shoulder. I smiled and nodded my head; it was perfect. Even though I wasn’t sure how it would all work out, I had faith it would. Fate would find a way.