Page 75 of Saving the Rockstar

Dylan squeezed my shoulder once, then straightened.

"I should go. He's probably a mess right now, blaming himself and spiraling. He needs his best friend right now. I need to..." He trailed off, his brow furrowed with worry.

To my surprise, Mason stood, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Before you go, I, uh… I made your favorite. That stupid vegan lasagna you're always harping on about."

Dylan blinked, clearly as taken aback as I was. "You did?"

Mason shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. "Yeah, well. I had some extra zucchini lying around. Thought you might, I don't know… Want to take some with you. For later."

I stared at Mason, at this unexpected display of thoughtfulness. In all the years I'd known him, I'd neverseen him do something so considerate. So blatantly caring for someone he claimed to dislike.

Dylan, too, seemed at a loss for words. He gaped at Mason, his cheeks flushing a dull red. "Yeah, that would be... thanks, Mason."

Mason grunted, turning away to hide what I could have sworn was a pleased smile. "Whatever. Don't make a big deal out of it."

But as he busied himself packing up a container of lasagna, I caught the glances he snuck at Dylan, the way his eyes softened when they landed on him. And I realized, with a start, that this was Mason's way of showing he cared, of offering comfort in his own gruff, roundabout way.

Dylan, still blushing, took the offered container with a shy smile. "Thanks, Mase. Really. It’s really sweet of you."

Mason scoffed, but I could see the tips of his ears turning red. "Sweet? What am I, your boyfriend?"

Dylan's blush deepened, but he grinned, a spark of his usual mischief returning. "You wish. As if you could handle all this."

He gestured to himself with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Mason chuckled, rolling his eyes.

Dylan, still grinning, hoisted the lasagna in a mock salute. "Well, I'd better get this back to Asher before it gets cold. Wouldn't want him to miss out on your culinary genius."

Mason flipped him off, but there was no heat behind the gesture. "Get out of here. And take care of him, yeah?"

Dylan's expression sobered, his eyes soft. "Always."

With a final nod to me and Mason, he slipped out the door, the container of lasagna cradled against his chest like something precious.

In his wake, I slumped back against the couch, my head tipped back, my eyes closed.

"I feel like a monster," I said quietly, the admission scraping my throat raw. "Walking away from Asher like that, after everything I promised. After I swore my love would last forever."

I heard Mason sigh, felt the couch dip as he settled beside me.

I swallowed hard, my eyes stinging. "I don't want him to think I'm pressuring him. To come out, to be someone he's not ready to be. I just wish he trusted me enough to tell me. To let me in, let me help him face his fears."

Mason was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, "Maybe he's not there yet. Maybe he needs to do this on his own, in his own time."

I opened my eyes, turning to look at him. "So what do I do? Just sit back and watch him suffer? Watch him tear himself apart with guilt, shame and self-loathing? God, I feel like my heart's been ripped out of my chest. Like I can't breathe, can't think, can't imagine a future without him in it."

Mason's hand landed on my back, warm and solid and steady.

I pulled out my phone, my hand shaking as I stared at the screen. Dozens of missed calls, dozens of unread texts. All from Asher. I could picture him now, curled up in his bed, his face streaked with tears, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he tried again and again to reach me.

The thought sent a lance of pain through my chest. I wanted to go to him, to gather him in my arms and hold him tight, to whisper reassurances and promises against his skin until the fear and the hurt faded away.

But I knew that if I did that now, I would say things I didn't mean. I would make promises I couldn't keep, would offer absolution I wasn't ready to give. And that would just hurt us both more in the long run.

So instead, with shaking fingers, I typed out a text. Short, simple, but honest.

"I need some time, Ash. We both do. To figure out what we want, what we need. Right now, I think we need to take a step back. To breathe, to heal. I'm so sorry."

I hit send before I could second-guess myself, before I could take back the words.

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