Page 55 of Word to the Wise

Mason leans forward on the counter, bringing himself closer to eye level. His arms are crossed in front of him as he watches me.

“You look like you’re waiting for me to say something.” I lace my fingers together.

“I am.”

Carter lied to me so often I could sense it the moment he walked into the room. A certain look he’d give me. He’d refuse to make eye contact and wouldn’t sit still. Mason is the exact opposite. Patient, quiet. He knows what I’m going to ask him, and he’s accepted it.

The silence is deafening as he stares at me. I’d love to avoid this—run to my room and go back in time to this morning. But I’ve been avoiding reality for six years. Thinking if I don’t face what’s in front of me, it won’t hurt as much.

I did that with Carter, and it turned me into someone I’m not. Mason accepts my ugly baggage. The least I can do is sit here and face this with him.

“Your sister was dating your friend when she died?”

He nods, waiting for me to continue.

“There was more to her suicide, wasn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Gabe had something to do with it.” I press my lips together and pause, waiting for him to stop me as I take in a breath, but he doesn’t. “You know what he did, and you killed him because of it, didn’t you?”

Mason lifts off the counter and plants his hands on the surface, looking down at me. Pain floods his gaze, either from what I’m saying or the memory of his sister.

“Yes, I did.”

I expect his admission to be what breaks me. For it to change my view of him. But it’s still the same Masonstanding across the kitchen, even if he doesn’t show an ounce of guilt or regret.

“Don’t you want to know how I guessed all that?” I ask.

“Doesn’t really matter. It was probably your brother, but if it wasn’t, you’re smart. I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

“And you still encouraged me to look?”

Mason pushes off the counter, circling the kitchen island until he’s sitting on the stool beside me. His body turns in my direction.

Anyone else would shut down with this kind of confrontation. Instead, he’s drawing closer. He’s cutting himself open and placing all the bad, ugly secrets between us. And I realize hewantsto face this.

The truth.

The pain.

No matter how much it hurts.

“You wanted me to find out the truth about you.” My voice is almost a whisper.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been running a long time, Reed. Just like you. But you make me feel like I’m ready to stop.”

18

Mason

I’ve been waiting forthis moment since Reed first showed up on my doorstep—maybe even since I met her. And when she left the shop earlier without saying anything to me, I knew it was coming.

I didn’t care. I rushed through the end of my day just to walk through the door. Hoping that even if she was going to look at me exactly like she is right now, she’d still be here.

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