Pulling into the parking lot outside of Mason’s apartment, I quickly check my phone for any missed messages. A pang hits my chest when I find Kaleb hasn’t returned my text, leaving me on edge. I hate feeling like I’m torn between the two of them. While they have never been more than cordial to each other, I’ve started to piece together moments from the past.
The way Kaleb would grumble when I would tell him I was meeting Mason for coffee, how he didn’t understand why we planned study nights together, or how I can trust Mason when I don’t trust people easily.
I understand Mason’s history with women. He has grown to be quite the ladies’ man over the years. Although he has told me he isn’t looking for anything serious, I know he’s a good person. The women he’s with know that, too.
Shoving my phone into my purse, I step out of my station wagon and hit the lock button. Mason and his friend, Graham, live together in an apartment near campus. Living in downtown Chicago is not cheap, but neither is living in a dorm.
Hitting the button for his apartment, I hear Mason’s voice filter through the speaker not even two seconds later.
“It took you long enough,” he says. While joking, the laughter that is usually there is gone.
“Well, I’m here now. You going to let me in? It’s chilly out here,” I say, running my hands over goose-pimpled flesh on my arms.
The buzzer sounds, unlocking the door. Rounding the corner, I find Mason standing in the doorway to his apartment with a small smile on his face. When I get closer, he stretches his arms out to his sides, and I go to him immediately, wrapping my arms around his waist, accepting his warmth.
“Hi,” I say, pressing my cheek against his heart.
“Hey,” he sighs. I hear it in his voice. He’s thanking me for coming by without even saying the words.
With a nod of my head, I lean back and flash him a smile of my own, ducking beneath his arm and walking inside.
Mason and Graham’s apartment is nice for a college pad. I think a lot of it is due to Graham’s personality. He has a need to keep things in order.
Slipping off my shoes, I waste no time crossing through the kitchen into the living room. Folding my legs beneath me, I curl up on the couch and pull the throw blanket over my lap. It always feels like an icebox in here.
Looking at Mason, I find he’s still standing in the kitchen with his arms crossed and an odd look on his face.
“Talk to me,” I say, cutting through the silence. I can see Mason subtly shake his head as if shaking himself from his thoughts. He seems more in his head today than normal.
Following my lead, he bounds into the living room and sits at the opposite end of the couch. With his forearm folding over his eyes, I can tell one of us is not going to like what’s going to be said.
“You’re freaking me out. Knock it off. Spit it out already,” I say, smacking Mason’s arm. It’s things like this that make me paranoid and unable to focus. His uneasiness is putting me on edge.
“My dad has been arrested. This time he was pulled over for drinking and driving.”
“Again?” I say, remembering the last time Mason called me after his dad got in a drunken altercation. Steven Reid is a defense attorney in Florida. From what Mason had told me, he had been out drinking after New Year’s and apparently started fighting with some guy over whether the Patriots or Falcons would win the Super Bowl.
I could tell Mason was surprised it had escalated to that level. Mason felt guilty for spending the holidays with his mom and brother back in Iowa, rather than going to Florida. Especially now, knowing his drinking has grown even heavier.
I’ve never met Mason’s dad, but I’ve heard a lot about him since we met. I know he’s the reason why Mason is pursuing his Criminal Law degree. I can see the way Mason talks about his father, how he looks up to him. Although, sometimes, I’m not sure I understand why.
“Yeah,” he says, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. “I have mentioned to him a couple of times he should move home. Or even to Chicago—there are a lot of great opportunities for him here, but he won’t hear it. The last couple of weeks has gotten progressively worse. I don’t know why he wants to stay there. He has nothing there, no family, no friends. I just don’t get it.”
“Mason, we don’t always understand why people do the things they do. It’s not your job to spend your day feeling guilty over the mistakes he makes. I know you feel like if he were here, you could fix it. Take it from me—sometimes you don’t see your world falling apart until it’s already in shambles.”
With his head tilted against the cushion of the couch, he rolls it until he’s facing me.
“Are we still talking about me?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed in question. I didn’t mean to make this conversation about me. I meant what I said; I am leaving all those problems in Cleveland.
Right now, I’m here for my friend.
I don’t answer his question, instead I nod my head. “How was your visit home?” he asks, reading between the lines. I should have known he would pick up on my attempt to evade this conversation.
Music starts blaring as I peer at the cell phone on the coffee table.
I’m thankful for the save.
Mason quickly leans over and mumbles out an apology.
“MJ, hey.” Holding up his finger to me, he walks into the kitchen.
Leaning forward, I grab the remote and turn on the television. As I flip through the channels, I hear keys in the lock, just as Graham enters. A bag of takeout in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.
“Hey, Graham,” I say, giving him a wave as I focus my attention on the TV.
“Brea,” he replies with a nod of his head.
“Do you know how long they’ll be holding him?” Mason asks. I turn my head toward him hearing the question, watching as he paces the small space, running his hand through his hair.
My eyes meet Graham’s as he sets the container of Chinese on the table. I see the annoyance written on his face, as he shakes his head in frustration.
I decide to give Mason his privacy, turning to the TV and settling on a movie. The Blind Side is playing, and I use it as a distraction from the thick tension in the room.
Graham carries his food around the bar and takes a seat on the loveseat opposite of where I’m sitting.
“Did he tell you what’s going on?” Graham asks, taking a bite of his sesame chicken. He is usually not one to go out of his way to make conversation, so the fact he’s talking to me causes my ears to perk up.
“About his dad? Yeah, he told me.”
Peering over at Graham, I see the worry he wears on his face. Whatever is going on with Mason is clearly bothering him. I get the feeling he wants to tell me, but he doesn’t want to breach the guy code.
“Is there something more I don’t know about?”
Running his hand over his face, he lets out a deep sigh, as if considering the next words to come out of his mouth.
“He just hasn’t been himself lately. He’s drinking heavier than I’ve ever seen him drink before. I got home late from Velvet last night, and he still hadn’t been home. I woke up this morning to the sounds of him—let’s just say he wasn’t alone.”
I feel like a boulder is weighing heavy on my chest at the thought of Mason with someone else. I know he’s not seeing anyone; I’ve heard about his sexual escapades enough over the past few years. I just always hoped he would grow out of this phase of his life.
“I’m not telling you to make you worry, Brea. I’m just hoping you can talk to him,” he urges, taking another bite—more like a shovel—of his food. Graham’s a big guy. Hell, I’m pretty sure his arms are the size of my head and I mean it as a compliment.
“Yeah, I’ll see if I can talk to him.”
Just as the words leave my mouth, the sound of Mason’s hand slamming against the side of the pantry door startles me from my thoughts.
“What the fuck, man?!” Graham grumbles, disliking his outburst no matter the cause. “Was that necessary?”
I don’t know what to say as my eyes bounce back and forth between the two of them. I’ve never seen them talk to each other like this.
“What happened, Mase?” I ask, using the nickname I have for him, hoping it will help soften the approach.
“It’s nothing you need to be worried about. I didn’t mean to—” Mason stops, forcing a deep inhale through his nose. His frustration and anger are evident on his face, and his shoulders are tense. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get upset. I’m just frustrated.”
I hear Graham let out an audible sigh as he turns his attention back to his meal.
“Brea, will you come to my room with me?”
Any other day, I wouldn’t think anything of it. We hang out in his room all the time, but knowing he had brought some girl home just hours ago leaves me with an unsettled feeling in my stomach.
Not knowing what to say, my eyes find Graham’s as if searching for a way to get out of this. As if reading my thoughts, I hear the frustrated exhale come from Mason as Graham moves to get up from his seat.
“Don’t leave the room on my account. I need to get in the shower anyway. I have to be at Velvet soon.”
I see the look on Graham’s face, hoping he will save me from voicing my thoughts. “I’ll see you there,” Mason mumbles.
Mason, Graham, and Lissa work together at Velvet, a nightclub downtown. Mason and Lissa serve drinks and run the bar while Graham, along with their friend Dean, work security.
It makes sense though; the stocky build Graham and Dean carry around with them is enough to scare any fool who dares to step out of line.
As soon as Graham is out of the room and down the hall, Mason swings his legs over the couch, planting himself next to me.
I scoot closer to him and he lifts his arm, inviting me in. I wrap my arm around his waist, curling my body around him. We both stare at the TV screen, getting lost in the movie.
“My father won’t stand before the judge until tomorrow morning,” Mason says. “I guess he was so drunk they felt he needed to wear it off a little more before he could be released.”
“There’s not much you can do at this point. He’s somewhere safe and is alive. I would focus on that for now.”
He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “You never did tell me how your visit home was.”
“I don’t have a lot to say about it, honestly. My mom isn’t the same person she once was, and it makes going back there even more difficult.”
“I know what you mean,” Mason says. “Did you talk to your dad? I mean, I know you don’t want to, but I was curious if he reached out to you since he knew you were home.”
“He did call and asked to meet up, but I couldn’t bring myself to go. I know I shouldn’t pick sides, but I’m still not over what he’s done to our family. I can’t accept the way he treated my mom. They weren’t happy; I know that now. I’m just so fucking angry after hearing about all the lies. I feel like everything I’ve ever known is a lie.”
I don’t know how much time passes as we sit here like this, watching the TV screen. I can feel the stress of the day ease a little bit from the both of us, but neither of us move.
“Thank you for being here for me,” Mason whispers against the side of my head.
Tilting my head back, I flash him a small smile. “You know if you ever need me, I’ll always be here for you.”
“I do know, and I thank God every day for you,” he says. The emotion behind his words take me off guard, and I feel the tears fill my eyes for the second time tonight.
Turning my head toward the TV, I blink back the tears as Mason presses his lips against my temple, breathing me in.
I don’t know what I would ever do if there came a day when Mason wasn’t in my life and I don’t want to find out.