by Tijan
“She’s my family! Stop protecting her from me.”
“She’s mine too, and you’re damn straight I will. Back off, Logan. I mean it.”
A deep growl came from him. “Jax, I swear—”
Courtney and Grace jumped. Their eyes grew even wider.
Grace gasped.
Courtney jerked forward, then braked when Heather shot back, “What? You’re going to threaten me? You’re forgetting I know you. I’m not like these two girls who are probably scared of you right now. I know you love Sam, and I know you’re hurting, and I know all this anger is because you’re scared you’re losing another family member. You’re not. Okay?” She softened her tone. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m guessing you don’t either, but they do. You have to trust them.”
“He’s not doing anything!” Another eruption from the hallway.
Smack!
Something hit the wall.
“You don’t know that either.”
“He’s not here.”
Heather sounded tired, but sympathetic. “She’s texting at night.”
“What?”
“She texts. At night. She thinks I’m sleeping, but I wake up too. I’m assuming it’s Mason on the other end.”
He was quiet. Then, a few beats later he asked, “How do you know?”
He asked like his life depended on it.
“Because she sleeps better afterward.”
“Oh.”
She coughed, clearing her throat, and her voice took on an edge of kindness. I knew that was just for Logan. “I’ll tell her you came and wanted to hug her. That’s all I’ll say.”
I hadn’t heard Heather talk like that to anyone else.
“Thank you.”
I closed my eyes, feeling a pang in my chest. I pressed against the wall and tried to stop the waterworks. These fucking tears.
“How do I fix this, Heather? I don’t know how to fix it.”
He was a broken little boy.
I was Helen. I had just ripped apart his family—again.
I sunk to my knees. Oh, God. I couldn’t . . .
“Sam!”
Courtney rushed to my side, her hand touching my back, but then it was brushed aside. Two strong arms lifted me up, and Logan carried me back to the bedroom. He laid me on the bed and stepped back.
He hung his head, his hands pushed into his pockets. “Is that true? Is he texting you?” he asked, his voice so raw and gruff.
I nodded. My throat was scraped clean. It wasn’t working anymore.
Logan drew in a breath, and his shoulders grew rigid. “Is he going to fix this?”
I paused.
I hoped.
And I nodded.
Logan’s eyes met mine. I saw the unshed tears. “I want to stay. Let me stay.”
I was Helen. I was Analise.
My throat still couldn’t work. It had swelled shut. Shame and guilt crushed my windpipe.
But Logan was waiting. I saw that little boy in him, the same one Mason told me stories about, the one who would sit outside his door waiting for his big brother to leave so he could follow or steal his bag for attention. He stared at me now, waiting for my answer.
I reached forward and grasped his hand. “Thank you,” I choked out. I nodded, in case he couldn’t make out my words.
He let out a relieved breath and sat on the floor by the bed.
Courtney and Grace were in the doorway with questions in their eyes. They didn’t know what to do, but Heather did. She moved past them and held out a beer to Logan. He took it, and she sat next to him with her own. The two saluted each other, and the three of us just settled in as Courtney and Grace slipped away.
Logan had his back against the bed, right next to where I lay. Heather sat beside him, and I kept my hand touching my phone.
I had done this. Now I had to fix it.
I couldn’t be like our mothers.
Is Logan there? He’s not answering his phone, but Taylor won’t tell me where he is.
Later that night my phone lit up, and I looked over. Logan was curled in the corner. Courtney and Grace didn’t have anything for him to sleep on earlier, so he made them drive him to a nearby store since they were sober, and he was not. He bought a cot, a sleeping bag, and a travel utility bag.
He set everything up, and he now slept soundly. He’d refused to move to the living room. Heather asked what his girlfriend would think, and he replied without hesitation.
“She knows what it’s like to lose a family member.”
The conversation was dropped.
He’s here. Refuses to leave. I texted.
You’re okay having him there?
Yes. I hit send, then paused with my fingers over the buttons. I typed out, I think I fucked this up. I did a Helen.
You didn’t. I did a James. I’ll fix this.
How?
We need to talk still. We can talk about it then.
Okay.
Love you.
So goddamn much.
So goddamn much.
I put the phone away, and Heather was right. I slept the rest of the night through. When I woke, I knew—I was ready to talk.
“Sam?” The next evening Courtney knocked on the open door.
Heather and I looked up from where we were lounging on the bed. Logan was at Taylor’s, and Courtney faltered in the doorframe, scratching behind her ear.
“Um, there’s a lady here to see you.”
“Me?” I gave Heather a look, starting to put my pen and book away. “She didn’t say who she was?”
“Helen or something?”
My eyes found Heather’s again. Helen?
Heather raised her eyebrow and scooted to the edge of the bed. “You want to talk to her?”
I shrugged and stood, hugging myself. “I guess.”
Mason and Logan’s mother never sought me out. A red alarm blared in my ears, but I went down the hallway to the door. It was closed, so I guessed she was in the hallway.
I opened the door and stuck my head around. “Ms. Malbourne?”
Dressed like she’d been out at a benefit, she wore a cream-colored shirt and wide-legged pants. They looked like a skirt, but I knew they were slacks because she stood with her legs apart. Her hands rested on her hips, one shoulder propped against the neighbor’s wall. I also saw a slit that ran underneath her arm, showing some skin. It was a very sexy, but also classy look.
My eyes lingered on her pearl necklace.
I forgot Mason and Logan’s wealth. When I was with them, they rarely mentioned it, or dressed to proclaim it. James didn’t either. He was authoritative, but he didn’t exude his place in society. And, somehow, Helen emanated it so well in just one look.
She did so now, pursing her lips together at the mention of her name. A slight flick of her hair, and she gestured to me. “It’s Helen by now. I think it’s time we had a talk, yes?”
I moved forward slowly, letting the door close behind me. I kept my hands touching it, crossed behind me, in case I wanted to go back in at a second’s notice. Mason and I might not be together, but I knew he’d come in a heartbeat if I called.
But even as I thought that, I knew I wouldn’t.
No matter my status with Mason, I had to get along with their mother. If she deemed this the time for a real talk, so be it. I only hoped no one drew blood, and feeling that small amount of bravery, I tipped my head up and gazed steadily at her.
She smiled slightly, like she’d been waiting for me to make that decision. Her hand pressed to her hair, keeping it in place. “Should we go somewhere more private?”
I didn’t have to think about it. “Here’s fine.”
A dry glimmer of humor showed in her eyes before she masked it, her lips pressing together again. “Okay.”
Then she stopped.
I waited. She’d come to me, but she didn’t say anything. I narrowed my eyes. Was I supposed to start?
“You’ll have to give me a minute,” sh
e finally said. “Coming here is, well, humbling to say the least.”
Her hand rested on her pearls, and I saw the intricate detail of her nails. They were long and shimmering, matching her pearls and outfit. Everything about her had been exquisitely put together.
She mused again, almost to herself, “Logan told me that you and my son have broken up.” Her hand fell from her pearls and began to play with the diamond bracelet around her wrist. It was like she didn’t know she was doing it. Her eyes lingered on me, narrowing slightly. “I had an epiphany when I heard that.”
A soft chuckle came from her, but her lips never moved. It was like a ghost laughing beside us.
“I’ve always hated you,” she said, her eyes downcast. “What your father said was true. I blamed you because you’re Analise’s daughter, and she took my family from me.” She lifted her face now. “But if I’m being honest with myself—and my sons will attest that I hate being honest with myself—it wasn’t your mother at all. It was James, and me. He destroyed our family, and I let him, but I have been blaming you in the back of my mind ever since.”
This wasn’t news to me.
“And I haven’t cared one iota what that did to you. I’m not one of those mothers like Malinda. No. James has a type. He likes the cold types, and I’m one of them. It’s perhaps why my sons are the way they are. They can be cold bastards at times, can’t they?”
My lips thinned. “Did you have a reason to come here?”
She raised her chin, elongating her slender throat, and smiled. Almost. It was gone in a moment. The cold disdain never wavered from her eyes.
“My epiphany was that while I don’t care for you, and I never will, my son does. He will never waver from his love, and I am here being the most motherly I’ll be in a long while. I don’t know what happened between you and Mason, but I would like you to fix it.”
I almost laughed. Almost. “You’re telling me to fix it?”
She nodded. “Yes. I am.”
I couldn’t hold the laughter in anymore. “Who do you think you are?”
Helen squared her gaze at me. She didn’t bat an eyelash. She didn’t flinch or look away. I could see some of Mason and Logan in her, and while I loved those qualities in them, I hated them in her. She replied, so smoothly, “I am the mother of two boys you love infinitely. That’s who I am, darling. Who are you?”
I raised my own chin. There was no flinching from me either. “I’m family.”
An approving look swept through her eyes, but she checked it, the coldness coming forth again. “Then do as I say. Fix it.”
“No.”
Her eyes widened, just a fraction. “No?” The beginning of a smile started, but it was just a tease. She kept it in check too.
I would see Mason. It was time to talk to him. I had already decided to, but I would not be ordered to do it. I would not be ordered at all.
“You may have birthed them, but you don’t give me orders. That’s not your place.”
“I’m their mother.”
“You’re not mine.”
She drew in a breath. “I am your elder. Don’t you show respect to your elders?”
“Not to you.”
She raised an eyebrow.
I gave her a nice fuck-you smile. “You can go now.”
We were at an impasse.
She ignored my order, staring at me.
I stared back.
Neither of us looked away. Neither blinked. Neither flinched. Neither fidgeted.
Then she broke, drawing her chin to her chest and gazing at me from under those long eyelashes. “I’m at a loss then. I want to ease my son’s pain, but you seem unwilling to do that.”
I grunted. “They must get their intelligence from James.”
Her eyes sharpened, but she only murmured, “What do you want then? Money?”
She thought she could bribe me.
“No?” Her nostrils flared. “What would you like? I can send you and Mason to Paris too? An all-expense paid trip? Or a cruise for you and your girlfriends? What would you like? What will it take for you to go and make my son not hurt anymore?”
“Not a goddamn thing.” From you. “You don’t scare me, Helen. Have you not met Analise?”
She laughed then. The sound rippled out of her, and she stopped, her hand resting on her throat like she’d surprised herself. Then she dropped it and started laughing again. She shook her head.
“You’re right.” She kept laughing, finally wiping at the corners of her eyes. “You’re right. That’s what it is. That’s why they love you so much.” She shook a finger at me. “And you’re right about Analise. I thank you for implying I’m not as scary as her. That will help me rest better at night.” She dabbed some more at her eyes, the laughter leaving her. “I suddenly feel like a thirty-year-old, young and refreshed.”
I frowned. I wasn’t sure what to think anymore about Helen.
“Okay.” She seemed to speak to herself, pulling a handkerchief from her purse. Folding it into a small square, she smoothed out the ends. “I came here with the purpose to ask you to get back together with my son, something I never would’ve thought I’d do. I’ve only wanted you out of my son’s life, both of them actually, and now this. I am indeed humbled.” A half-bitter/half-amused laugh came from her. “So, what is the problem? I know it must be world-ending for you and Mason to have gone separate ways, or as separate as the two of you can be.”
My mouth hung open an inch.
Was Mason’s mother asking me because she cared?
I closed my mouth. I didn’t know how to respond. I shifted my foot from side to side against the hallway’s carpet. “That’s none of your business. If Mason chooses to tell you, that’s his decision. You and I have no relationship.”
She did that. Not me.
“Okay.” She graced me with another soft smile, the disdain lifting a bit from her eyes. “Noted. And I didn’t expect you to tell me, but the mother in me had to try.” She looked away. “Mason doesn’t share much with me, ever.”
There was a reason, but I kept quiet.
She added, “Not that I blame him. Logan’s the one who shouldn’t confide in me, but he does sometimes. I still think of him as my little boy. Mason was . . . older. Angrier. He shielded Logan from a lot of it. Lord knows, he didn’t have to, but he stepped into the roles that James and I had ceased playing.”
Her eyes grew haunted, and she looked over to me. Her lips pressed together in a tight smile. “I came tonight with a white flag. I’m not the nicest, and I won’t be the warmest person after this either, but I do wish to cease being your enemy. It’s something my son does not need to worry about.” She inclined her head. “I hope you have a good night, Samantha.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She whisked past me, her silk pants flowing, and I had no doubt there was some fancy driver waiting for her in the apartment’s parking lot.
Heather, Courtney, and Grace were all sitting in the kitchen, waiting for me.
They looked up as I came in and Heather asked, “So?”
I shrugged. “It was weirdly okay.”
“What was she doing here?” Heather spread her hands in question.
“I think she was trying to help Mason, in her own way.”
It felt odd saying these things, but I couldn’t lie to them. Helen had only been a cold bitch to me, and she was still cold, but I wondered if she might no longer be a bitch.
I slipped into the empty chair at the table. “Yeah. I think she and I might be . . .” These words felt so alien in my mouth. “ . . . Okay after this.”
Then again, she didn’t really matter.
Mason did.
The next night Mason wanted to meet at the butterfly.
When he said those two words, I knew exactly where he meant. He said the renovations had been completed, and this time he’d gotten permission from his dad for us to be there. They changed the security codes to the entire place, so Mason was forced to ask.
This meant I got the codes too, and I was sitting in a lounge chair next to the pool when he walked inside.
My heart soared.
He came in with a fierceness. His eyes were blazing. As usual, he was gorgeous. Wearing jeans that molded perfectly to his trim waist, showcasing his firm upper legs, and hugging his ass, he twisted around to make sure the door was shut.
I took a breath. I wanted to touch him and cry all at the same time.
He wore a black Cain U football jacket, which molded to him just like his jeans, like perfection. His body was a well-oiled machine.
“Hey.” He ran a hand over his black crew cut, and my hand actually jerked.
That was my job. I got to run my hand over his hair. I did it when we were in bed. I had to tuck my hand on my lap to keep from going to him.
“Hey.” I flinched at how hoarse my voice was. “Sorry.”
Sadness flared in his eyes, replacing the fire. His shoulders slumped, and he pushed his hands into his pockets. He didn’t sit next to me, just leaned against the closest pole, which was ten feet away.
He opened his mouth.
I leaned forward to hear, but tensed at the same time.
Then he closed it.
I was right there with him. “It was weird coming here alone,” I said.
“Yeah.” He looked away.
His hand went back to his hair. I smiled bitterly. Logan did that all the time, but I’d never seen Mason do it until now. Why? Because his hands were usually touching me.
I asked softly, and because I had to know, “What are you feeling right now?”
His eyes met mine, searching.
“Like my soul was yanked out of me,” he said.
I could relate. “I’m sorry.”
He lifted a shoulder, but looked away again. “I know why you left.”
Technically, I hadn’t. I made the decision, but there were no words shared. Only looks and years of reading each other’s thoughts. I might’ve made the decision to go, but I was the one who hadn’t been able to do it. Mason did, so technically, it was just one more thing he did for me. He was the one who left.
“Yeah.” I had no other words.
