Page 99 of Between Regrets and Promises

My voice is loud and deep, no longer able to contain my anger from this whole situation. Sophie looks like I’ve lost my damn mind, and maybe I have, but she means more to me than I’ve ever admitted.

“Mason…” Sophie croaks. “I think you’re misreading him because I don’t see any of that. He started at the grieving circle the same day I did because he needed to talk about his feelings and be around people who understood what he’s going through.”

“How can you not see through his bullshit, Soph? Especially you.”

“What’s that mean?” She furrows her brows, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You saw firsthand what losing Brandon did to your sister. What it did to Hunter. If they didn’t have each other, they would’ve been worse. Lennon fought for months about her feelings because she was still in love with Brandon. She tried pushing Hunter away to avoid the guilt of moving on. I wasn’t around them that much while they were going through all that shit, yet I could see their pain and struggles.”

“Their story is different…”

I arch a brow, daring her to challenge me on that.

“And what would Caleb’s motive be then?” she pushes.

“He probably goes from grieving circle to grieving circle to find women like you who lost someone and are vulnerable. How can’t you see the way he was looking at you?”

“And why does it matter to you so much how he was looking at me? You’ve made it crystal clear that we’re only friends, so let’s say he is lying and wants to get me into bed. Would that be a problem?”

My eyes narrow into slits as I close the gap between us. Sophie steps back until her back touches the wall and we’re chest to chest. “You’re much more than a side piece, Sophie. More than a quickie in a bar bathroom. So fucking more than some asshole’s game.”

Sophie inhales sharply, keeping her gaze on me as the tension heightens between us. “You’re overthinking this. Everyone grieves differently. It doesn’t mean he should stop living his life.”

Taking a step back, I suck in a deep breath, and brush both hands through my hair. I clench my jaw, my blood boiling with frustration and anger, and the need to prove my point to her becomes overwhelming.

Can’t she see I’m trying to protect her? After Weston, her guard should be up. She shouldn’t be letting anyone near her, especially not some guy she met weeks ago. Sophie is too goddamn sweet for her own good. She wants to see the positive in every situation and person, but misses what’s right in front of her. I’d be pissed about it if it wasn’t one of her best qualities and why I was drawn to her in the first place.

“Sophie.” I place my hand on the wall behind her and lean down so we’re only inches apart. “The point I’m making is that the fucking last thing you’re thinking of when you lose a loved one is how to get another woman into bed with you. Throwing shit, punching walls, contemplating how to take your own life because nothing makes sense—those are things I’d expect tosee or hear. The pain, the insufferable guilt that it was her and not you, the dark thoughts that evade your mind. Those first few months after death are intolerable. You’d rather suffer in silence than admit how much pain you’re in, but I can guarantee you with every fiber of my being that touching another woman would be the last thing on my mind. Losing your wife should feel like losing half of your own soul. That guy, no matter how good of a front you say he’s putting on, did not lose a spouse.”

Sophie’s chest rises and falls rapidly as if she can’t catch her own breath. Her gaze is locked on mine, and her stare is intense as if she’s trying to read my mind.

“How do you know that stuff?” she finally asks. “How would a man act after losing his wife?”

I swallow, knowing I can’t lie to her. She deserves the truth.

Inhaling a deep breath, I try to mentally prepare myself for a conversation I’ve never had with anyone, not even the guys because they were around during this time and knew as soon as it all happened. “My girlfriend committed suicide, and it was my fault. I found her, but it was too late. She was already gone.” My chest deflates, the words feeling heavy as if they’ll smoother me.

Her breath hitches as a hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Mason.”

“Even if he’s saying his wife died in an accident, trust me when I tell you the grief never goes away. The pain, the guilt, the ache—it lives on eternally.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SOPHIE

All the airleaves my lungs as Mason’s intense stare sends shivers down my entire body. His revelation has my heart racing as I try to wrap my mind around his words.

“Mason…” I whisper his name again. “I had no idea.”

He shakes his head as if he can’t believe he shared that part of himself, but I’m glad he did. I want to know everything about him. Mason steps back, putting space between us as he inhales a deep breath.

“Will you tell me about her?” I suck in my lower lip, knowing I’m stepping in unknown territory.

Mason nods as he takes a seat on the couch, and I follow, sitting next to him.

“Her name was Emma. We’d been dating for almost two years, and I was madly in love with her at the time. She was outgoing, unpredictable, spunky.”

His voice sounds so broken as he says her name aloud, as if it causes him physical pain to say.

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