Page 110 of Sapphire Spring

Mason was almost to the car when he turned and started forNaser again.

“No,” he said as he closed the distance between them. “No.”When his hands gripped Naser’s shoulders, chills swept outward from theirwarmth, as if he’d been forced to go without the man’s comforting touch foreons instead of hours.

“I don’t want to be done with you. I’m not going to thisplace so that I can be done with you, Naser. I’m going so I canstartsomething with you. Something I’ve never had. Something it sounds like you’venever had. But Ihave tobe the man who’s worthy ofit, and I’m not there yet. But I want to be. I’m scared, and I don’t know whatI’m doing. But I know sure as hell, I am not trying to bedonewithyou.”

The kiss was hard and forceful, notfurtiveand boyish and tentative like the others Mason had given him in public. ButNaser, for the first time, resisted it despite himself. And when he realizedhow rigid he’d gone, Mason had already turned and started for his neighbor’scar. He wasn’t sure how to interpret Mason’s sudden burst of speed—did he feelrejected by Naser’s resistance or was he trying to get out of there beforeNaser could say anything else that made the goodbye sound permanent?

He refused to torture himself by watching the Tesla depart.Instead, he steeled himself and marched back into the lobby. It felt like therewas a bird beating its wings inside of his chest, the same feeling he’d get inhigh school when he pretended to ignore a coughed or hissed comment from Masonand his crew because to let the other students know it was getting to himseemed like the ultimate defeat.

In a daze, he walked back to his office and locked the checkfor Pari in his desk drawer. But he didn’t linger there. Connor would find himand pelt him with questions. Instead, he headed to the stairs to the beach andwalked halfway down them so he could pretend like he was enjoying the view ofthe sparkling sea from behind his sunglasses. Then he texted Connor.

All good. See you at Camilla’s in thirty.

All good.

As if.

Then, in a daze, he put on his bravest and most professionalface as he sat next to Connor and nodded his way through a meeting with therepresentatives from Dawn Blossom, who were so coiffed, so slathered in theirown facial products and so doggedly cheerful, Naser thought he might scream andrun from the table. Connor asked a ton of questions. Naser didn’t hear most ofthem. He did pick up on the trend line, though. Connor wanted to know moreabout what they’d do to the spa’s infrastructure and less about their productline.

Then the meeting wasoverand theywere all standing and shaking hands and saying goodbye. As he and Connorwatched the brightly dressed Dawn Blossom reps make their way back into thelobby, Naser felt like some security blanket had suddenly been yanked fromthem. The obligation that had been keeping him relatively on his game haddeparted. He feared his composure was about to flee with it.

“Nas.” The soft concern in Connor’svoice coupled with the gentle way Connor closed a hand around Naser’s armthreatened to undo him.

He started walking, holding one hand up as if he needed afew seconds to figure out what he was going to say. Instead, he quickened hissteps, and by the time he was outside, his hand had drifted down to his waist,and the next thing he knew he was making his way to one of the more secretcorners of the property—a paved walkway that ran just below the lowest terraceof villas and looked south down the coast.

That’s where Connor found him sobbing into one arm he’d bentand rested against the balustrade.

28

They took Mason’s phone just likeShirley said they would.

They searched his one suitcase for pills, bags of powder,and hidden bottles. The guy who did it wore plastic gloves and had hints oftattoo sleeves spilling out from under the cuffs of his long-sleeved T-shirt.Despite its fullness, his long, salt and pepper ponytail looked freshly washedand neatly tied back, and he had an electricity and liveliness in his eyes Masonhad come to associate with sober people. He’d introduced himself, of course,but in his nervousness, Mason had already forgotten the man’s name.

While he worked, Mr. Ponytail gave Mason a speech thatsounded like it had been crafted by a lawyer.

No one was a prisoner at Pine Rise.

There was a little town with a few motels about ten minutesaway by car—half an hour if you set out on foot. The van could take him thereanytime he wanted. But it would be a one-way trip.

Same deal if he demanded his phone back: he’d lose his bedand be out on his behind—house rules. To emphasize this point, the guy pointedto the wall behind his desk and explained that inside the little cubbyholesdesigned to receive mail—thirty of them, Mason counted—sat the abandoned cellphones of the current residents, each one tucked inside a little brown manilaenvelope with a first name written on it. The fact that they weren’t locked upseemed deliberate, a form of display on par with some reality televisioncontest. Or that bell on Coronado Island that Navy SEAL trainees rang when theycouldn’t go another brutal day.

The intake process went down in a clean office that filledone of the single-story cabins spread across a clearing shaded by tall pines.

He’d been so overcome with emotion on the ride away fromSapphire Cove he wasn’t sure if he could pinpoint their final location on amap. He knew they’d driven across the smoggy Inland Empire before snaking upinto the pine-forested mountains but wasn’t sure if they’d ended up closer toLake Arrowhead or Big Bear. The place had the look of one of those summer campshe’d avoided attending in high school because he was usually on expensive tripswith Chadwick and his family or at some sports training clinic trying to beefup for the next season.

Shirley hovered nearby.

By the time Mr. Ponytail had finished, he’d removed a bottleof mouthwash Mason had included with his toiletry kit. “Enough alcohol in thereto catch a buzz off of if you swallow,” he’d said with a smile and a wink, andhe’d also taken Mason’s Gillette. “We give every new guy an electric razor.Don’t worry.”

Suicide risk.He didn’t say it, but Mason felt thewords in his gut. He hadn’t even considered the razor blades in those terms.Their confiscation frightened him, suggested the feelings he’d be forced todeal with in this mountain hideaway might force him into some dark places.Places where guys like Mr. Ponytail wanted to ensure he wouldn’t be armed witheasy instruments of self-harm.

Then Mr. Ponytail was handing him his bag and Mason wasrising to his feet. And when he turned to Shirley, he realized it was goodbye.And the look on her face told him she still didn’t have an answer to thequestion that had been circling over their heads since the night before.

Their first calls to Pine Rise had made clear the healthinsurance plan Mason had through his father’s company required the boss to approveexpenses like rehab. Mason was considering footing the bill himself using whathe’d made from the sale of the Ferrari, but if things with his dadcontinued onthe course he’d started the day before, he’dneed every penny of that money to live off of when he got out. Shirley hadvolunteered to call Pete, leaving the request on his voicemail.

“Nothing?” Mason asked.

Shirley shook her head. She was afraid Mason would use theuncertainty as an excuse to bail, but Pine Rise had made it clear they nevergave someone the boot over a bill. Sometimes they worked out liberal repaymentoptions with patients that went on for months, years even, after they graduatedthe program. Still, it felt like making the request of PeteWortherhad given theman powerover one of Mason’s lowestmoments. For her willingness to make the call on his behalf, Mason would oweShirley for the rest of his life.

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