by Linda Kage
“Well, I assumed you were. You brought your fiancé over to Sarah’s party and paraded him around in front of my mother like you were taunting her for not having her own man. You don’t need me anymore.”
“Mason, Mason, Mason, you poor deluded boy. You couldn’t be further from the truth. Ted is a dear, sweet man. Rich, charming, handsome. In fact, I will love being married to him.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t cheat on him.”
“But, sweetie. I won’t be able to help it. He just doesn’t do it for me in the bedroom. Not the way I’ve trained you to. I need you more than you realize.”
“Well, that’s too bad, because I’m never touching you again. We haven’t been behind on our rent in over a year.”
“Well…with inflation and the economy the way it is, I’m afraid I might have to raise your rent.”
“I don’t care. We’ll pay it. Whatever it is. And if it gets too ridiculous, we’ll just move. You have no hold over me whatsoever.”
From the shadows, I fisted my hand and pumped it into the air, silently cheering him on. You go, Lowe! Keep it up.
“Is that so?” Mrs. Garrison gave a small, amused laugh. “And what if I called a certain police officer I know to tell him about an illegal prostitution scandal going on over at the country club?”
Mason’s return chuckle was low and hard. “Go ahead, Patricia. I don’t give a damn. I’ve already stopped taking clients anyway. No one is going to arrest me for speculation and since I’m finished, no one can catch me in the act.”
“Wow, you think you have it all figured out, don’t you?”
“Yeah, for once, I do. Now when are you going to get it through your thick head that it’s over? I will never have sex with you again. There’s nothing you can say or do to get me to walk back into your house.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Really. Because I was just about to tell you I know your girlfriend’s little secret.”
Say what?
My skin went ice cold as I crept closer to the gate, peeking through the cracks to see Mason’s stiff back as he faced the half-opened back door, unintentionally blocking his landlady from my view.
He sounded suspicious and leery when he demanded, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, I’m sure she’s told you all about Teresa Margaret Nolan. Hasn’t she?”
“Oh, my God.” I slapped my hands over my mouth to muffle my shock.
She knew.
How in God’s name did she know?
“Who?” Mason asked, sounding clueless.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t finding out the truth from her.
“Oh, Mason.” Mrs. Garrison tsked, sounding wickedly delighted. “Didn’t she ever tell you her real name? That concerns me. It doesn’t sound as if there’s enough trust and honesty in your sweet little monogamous relationship if the girl hasn’t even told you she legally changed her name to Reese Alison Randall just a few short months ago. I mean, not that I blame her. If my ex-boyfriend tried to kill me and promised he’d finish the job the next time he saw me, well, I’d probably run halfway across the country and change my name too.”
“No,” Mason said, his voice trembling with uncertainty.
Tears filled my lashes. I wiped at them desperately, my heart breaking because he was learning the truth like this. I was supposed to be the one to tell him.
“You think I’m making this up?” His pimp laughed. “He cut her. With a knife. It was actually life threatening; she was in the hospital for over a week. I’m sure you’ve seen the scar. It’s somewhere on her neck, I believe.”
Mason’s thick silence killed me. A second later, he croaked, “Oh, God. What happened?”
Mrs. Garrison made a sympathetic sound. “Your girl has quite the taste in boys, let me tell you. It was nasty. Nasty business indeed. I guess they were high school sweethearts, and all was well with that until he started to get a little too controlling for her taste. The first time she tried to break up with him, her sophomore year, he dislocated her jaw. The second time, during her senior year, he broke her arm…after pushing her down a flight of stairs.”
More tears trickled down my cheeks. But how in God’s name did this woman know so much about me? Where had she gotten her information?
“That’s when she finally decided enough was enough. But he still refused to take no for an answer. He stalked her and harassed her for months after she dumped him until he broke into her parents’ house to kill her. And he nearly succeeded.”
“Jesus,” Mason rasped.
“Miss Teresa missed her high school graduation because she was in the hospital. And her naughty boyfriend got out on bail almost immediately. So she skipped town with a new name. And since the case against him was dropped, Mr. Jeremy Walden has been completely pardoned. Ergo, he started looking for her. Her parents’ home was broken into last week. I’ll give you three guesses who I think did it.”
Mason’s voice wavered as he asked, “Did he find anything?”
The landlady hummed. “It’s hard to say, though I will tell you, that boy will do anything, anything, to get his Reese’s Pieces back.”
The name Jeremy had always called me made me gag. I clutched my stomach and closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe through my mouth until the nausea subsided.
“Just think, Mason. If he almost killed her when he was in love with her and wanted to rekindle their relationship, just think what he’ll do this time, now that he wants revenge. Wouldn’t it be awful—simply horrible—if someone accidently leaked her whereabouts?”
I swayed and would’ve gone down if I hadn’t clutched the gate latch for support.
“You wouldn’t,” Mason warned.
“Of course I wouldn’t, sweetheart.” Mrs. Garrison’s insulted voice sounded fake.
I dug my nails into the metal handle, wanting to reach out and physically hurt her.
“I would never do anything to upset you. Not when you’re going to give me what I want.” Her tone changed from cajoling to severe in an instant. “Right?”
“No!” I cried out, shoving my way into her backyard.
“Reese?” Mason spun around and caught my elbow. Pulling me close, he wrapped his arms around me tight. “Christ. What’re you doing here?”
I clung to him, my tears soaking his shirt. “You said yourself. My curiosity has no filter. I had to know if you were really going to go to her.”
“Damn it,” he muttered even as his hands turned gentle and he held me against him, petting my hair. “How much did you hear?”
“All of it. And you can’t sleep with her. You told her no. That should be enough. She’s blackmailing you. What she’s doing is…it’s demented. It’s a violation of you in the most personal, private, vile way imaginable. I refuse to just stand here and let you fall for this, especially because of me.”
He didn’t answer, simply held me close as I trembled and sobbed against him. When he cupped my face and drew far enough away to look into my eyes, a bad feeling crept up my spine.
He looked…resigned. “Is it true?”
Another tear slipped down my cheek. I should’ve told him she’d made everything up. But I couldn’t lie to him. Not ever again.
“Yes.” I sniffed as more tears fell. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, but—”
“Shh. It’s okay. It’s all right.” He kissed my forehead. Then his fingers chased a teardrop down my jaw before skimming around to the back of my neck so he could touch my scar. A choked sob left his throat. “I swear, Reese. I’ll never let him find you. He won’t ever hurt you again.”
Then he dropped his hand from me and took a step back. The sorrow and pain in his eyes told me goodbye. Forever.
“Mason.” I reached for him.
He whirled away and marched toward Mrs. Garrison’s back door. She rested her half-dressed body against the doorjamb, and when he strode past her, his sh
oulder cracked against hers, knocking her off balance, before he disappeared inside.
“Perfect timing, Teresa,” Mrs. Garrison purred as she straightened herself. “I love it when he’s riled up…all wild and untamed, and extra aggressive. There’s just something so sensual about that boy when his passion has been unleashed.” She shivered and let out a dreamy sigh. “Thank you.” Then she too turned away and shut the door.
I stood there, staring at her house, trembling from head to toe.
Vibrating with outrage, I wanted to explode. I wanted to scream. I wanted to race inside and drag him back out, away from that evil, evil woman.
But he’d made his decision.
He’d chosen her.
And he’d done it for me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I should’ve left. I should’ve gone home, curled into a ball in bed, and sobbed the rest of the night away.
But I couldn’t.
I slunk back to Mason’s house, and, feeling numb to the core, I let myself in through the unlocked back door. Collapsing into a chair at the kitchen table, I started my sob fest, shaking uncontrollably as I held on to my arms for dear life.
I swear, a piece of my soul tore away from my chest because I cried so hard it physically hurt right in the center of my breastbone, making proper breathing impossible.
My eyes were swollen, my nose was running like a sieve, and I was hyperventilating to the point of dizziness when the back door opened and Mason stepped wearily inside.
I had no idea how much time had passed. It didn’t feel like that long. Then again, it felt like forever.
I lifted my face. When he caught sight of me, he jerked to a halt in the doorway. The expression in his gaze was flighty; he wanted to run.
I pushed out of my chair, still hugging myself. “Are you…is it done?”
Guilt and devastation oozed off him. “Reese? What…what’re you doing here?”
“S-Sarah.” My voice was empty, my limbs were heavy and, my mind was muzzy. “Sarah was home alone.”
But we both knew that wasn’t why I was here.
He shook his head as if he wanted to deny my presence. “But your car’s not outside.”
“I parked a few blocks down and walked back. Did you really do it?”
“Christ.” He covered his face with both hands, and a hoarse moan of agony escaped him.
I stumbled forward, needing to hold him, needing him to hold me.
He shied away, refusing to look at me. “Don’t. I’m not clean.”
Oh, God. He’d really done it. I kept walking to him anyway.
He held up both hands and hissed. “Stop! Jesus, Reese. This is why we’re supposed to be just friends. This is why…God damn it!” He touched my face and looked me over, from my swollen, tear-stained eyes to my red nose. Then he set his palm flush against my heaving chest as if he could calm my stuttered breathing with his touch alone. “Look what I did to you. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. I never wanted to hurt you. I would give anything to keep this from you.”
I clutched two handfuls of his shirt and balled them into my fists. “Then let me help you.”
He shook his head. “How?” He sounded broken and disheartened.
We shared a mutual ache between us. And the only way I could think to help myself was to help him and give him what he needed most. Drawing in a deep breath, I wiped at my wet cheeks. “Do you want to be clean?”
He glanced at me, his eyes crushed yet full of hope. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll clean you.”
When I reached for his hand, he let me interlace our fingers. I led him to the bathroom, and he followed without resistance.
He stopped a few steps inside and just stood there, staring at nothing, appearing almost comatose. I shut the door behind us and snagged the wire toilet paper bin that Dawn had sitting by the commode to tuck under the doorknob, keeping it closed.
“What a good idea,” Mason said behind me, his voice dazed. “Why hadn’t I ever thought to do that?”
I turned to send him a soft smile. “Because you need me around to show you the right way.”
He flinched. “I should’ve listened to you. I shouldn’t have gone over there. I shouldn’t have—”
“Shh.” I grasped the hem of his shirt and began to pull it up. “No more regrets. What’s done is done and we’re not going to think about it again.”
He lifted his arms to help me take his shirt off, but he still asked, “What’re you doing?”
“I’m giving you a shower. I told you I was going to clean you and—”
The words strangled in my throat as I took in the bright red hickey on the upper right side of his chest.
Catching my reaction, he frowned. “What?” When he looked down and saw the mark, he slapped his hand over it, covering the spot.
His faced jerked up, and he opened his mouth. I saw apology thick in his expression. On its tail came fear and revulsion.
I think the revulsion won out. He spun away from me, fell to his knees and slammed up the toilet seat. As he vomited, I turned away and covered my mouth. More tears fell. With trembling hands, I reached for the cup by the sink and filled it with water.
By the time he finished, I was sitting on the floor beside him, ready and waiting with a cup of water and toothbrush full of paste.
“Thank you.” He took the water first, swished it around in his mouth and spit. After a few more rounds of that, he began to scrub his teeth vigorously. And all the while, he kept his arm held over his chest, hiding the stain she’d left on him.
“I’ll get your shower water warm,” I offered, pushing to my feet and feeling robotic as I worked.
“Are you really going to stay in here while I shower?” He didn’t sound as if he wanted me to leave; he just sounded perplexed by the notion.
“I said I was going to clean you.” The truth was, I didn’t think I could be away from him right then.
Opening the door to the shower stall, I started the water, not caring how stray droplets coated my arms and began to soak my shirt. I held my knuckles under the stream until I had the temperature just right for Mason.
Behind me, he stood and put his cup and toothbrush away. When his pants hit the floor, I jumped.
Last month, I would’ve peeked. Heck, earlier that day, I would have looked. But I didn’t even want to now, and not because I was repulsed over the fact that he’d had his penis inside another woman only minutes ago.
I just couldn’t violate his privacy. He’d been violated enough for one night.
When I glanced back, my gaze landed on his face. “I suppose I can let you do this part by yourself.”
His eyes looked extra silver in the room’s fluorescent light. They focused on me, searching my face. With a silent nod, he stepped past me and shut himself inside the shower. The glass was opaque, so I could only see a blurry, peach outline of him through the door.
Leaving briefly to ransack his room and find some fresh clothes for him to wear, I tossed his Country Club uniform into his dirty clothes hamper and returned to the steamy bathroom, where the door hung partially open. I returned the TP bin in front of it and closed the toilet lid to sit and wait.
I swear, he soaped everything down three times. But that was okay with me. Whatever he had to do to make himself feel clean again was fine.
When the water shut off, I was there with a towel.
He looked surprised when he opened the door and saw me. With another muted, humble thank you, he took the terrycloth and dried himself before wrapping it around his waist.
I sat back down on the toilet seat and brought my knees up to my chest to loop my arms around my legs. “I feel like I’m the one who had to do that with her, like she tore down the most basic part of me and left the rest abused and cast off. I feel worthless and cheap, and…and used.”
He nodded once and slid his boxer briefs on under the towel. “Yeah, that pretty much covers what it does to you.”
I could
n’t help it; I began to cry again. Tears sprouted from my eyes and poured down my cheeks before I even realized they’d started. “And you’re okay with that?”
Covering his face with his hand, he whispered, “Reese,” on a choked rasp. “I’m sor—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” I sobbed. “I’m the one who did this to you. It’s my fault you went through this tonight.”
His lashes flashed open. “No. God, no. You didn’t. Nothing was your fault.”
Dropping his towel, he knelt down in front of me. Against my will, I looked at his chest only to see he’d replaced his hickey with a huge red welt where he’d tried to scrub it off.
“I’m sorry.” He lunged sideways for his shirt.
Once he pulled it on, I reached out, grabbed two handfuls of cloth, and leaned toward him.
He tugged me off the commode and into his arms, where he held me in his lap on the floor of the bathroom.
“It’s okay,” he kept murmuring. “I swear to you, Reese. It wasn’t that bad. I didn’t even finish. As soon as she was done, I—”
“I don’t want details,” I screeched, horrified.
But, really. I hated Mrs. Garrison. Not only had she manipulated him into doing what she wanted; she’d messed with his head, toyed with his body, and prevented him from the only gratification he might’ve actually gotten from tonight.
I know, that was really messed up thinking. But I felt messed up.
“I’m sorry.” His face drained of color. When he tried to shift backward, I only sobbed harder and curled my fingers around handfuls of his soft cotton shirt to hug him tighter. Breathing in heavy drudges of the dryer-sheet-scented cloth, I clung to him, unable to stop bawling.
“It’s going to be okay.” He kissed my hair and stroked matted tangles free from the damp tresses.
I barked out an incredulous laugh. “Okay? I am so far from okay right now, I don’t even remember what okay feels like.”
He pressed his face against my neck. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I can’t…I can’t…Why the hell did you stay? You shouldn’t have stayed to see this.”
