Fallen Crest Forever
Page 62

“You’re not mine.”
She drew in a breath. “I am your elder. Don’t you show respect to your elders?”
“Not to you.”
She raised an eyebrow.
I gave her a nice fuck-you smile. “You can go now.”
We were at an impasse.
She ignored my order, staring at me.
I stared back.
Neither of us looked away. Neither blinked. Neither flinched. Neither fidgeted.
Then she broke, drawing her chin to her chest and gazing at me from under those long eyelashes. “I’m at a loss then. I want to ease my son’s pain, but you seem unwilling to do that.”
I grunted. “They must get their intelligence from James.”
Her eyes sharpened, but she only murmured, “What do you want then? Money?”
She thought she could bribe me.
“No?” Her nostrils flared. “What would you like? I can send you and Mason to Paris too? An all-expense paid trip? Or a cruise for you and your girlfriends? What would you like? What will it take for you to go and make my son not hurt anymore?”
“Not a goddamn thing.” From you. “You don’t scare me, Helen. Have you not met Analise?”
She laughed then. The sound rippled out of her, and she stopped, her hand resting on her throat like she’d surprised herself. Then she dropped it and started laughing again. She shook her head.
“You’re right.” She kept laughing, finally wiping at the corners of her eyes. “You’re right. That’s what it is. That’s why they love you so much.” She shook a finger at me. “And you’re right about Analise. I thank you for implying I’m not as scary as her. That will help me rest better at night.” She dabbed some more at her eyes, the laughter leaving her. “I suddenly feel like a thirty-year-old, young and refreshed.”
I frowned. I wasn’t sure what to think anymore about Helen.
“Okay.” She seemed to speak to herself, pulling a handkerchief from her purse. Folding it into a small square, she smoothed out the ends. “I came here with the purpose to ask you to get back together with my son, something I never would’ve thought I’d do. I’ve only wanted you out of my son’s life, both of them actually, and now this. I am indeed humbled.” A half-bitter/half-amused laugh came from her. “So, what is the problem? I know it must be world-ending for you and Mason to have gone separate ways, or as separate as the two of you can be.”
My mouth hung open an inch.
Was Mason’s mother asking me because she cared?
I closed my mouth. I didn’t know how to respond. I shifted my foot from side to side against the hallway’s carpet. “That’s none of your business. If Mason chooses to tell you, that’s his decision. You and I have no relationship.”
She did that. Not me.
“Okay.” She graced me with another soft smile, the disdain lifting a bit from her eyes. “Noted. And I didn’t expect you to tell me, but the mother in me had to try.” She looked away. “Mason doesn’t share much with me, ever.”
There was a reason, but I kept quiet.
She added, “Not that I blame him. Logan’s the one who shouldn’t confide in me, but he does sometimes. I still think of him as my little boy. Mason was . . . older. Angrier. He shielded Logan from a lot of it. Lord knows, he didn’t have to, but he stepped into the roles that James and I had ceased playing.”
Her eyes grew haunted, and she looked over to me. Her lips pressed together in a tight smile. “I came tonight with a white flag. I’m not the nicest, and I won’t be the warmest person after this either, but I do wish to cease being your enemy. It’s something my son does not need to worry about.” She inclined her head. “I hope you have a good night, Samantha.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She whisked past me, her silk pants flowing, and I had no doubt there was some fancy driver waiting for her in the apartment’s parking lot.
Heather, Courtney, and Grace were all sitting in the kitchen, waiting for me.
They looked up as I came in and Heather asked, “So?”
I shrugged. “It was weirdly okay.”
“What was she doing here?” Heather spread her hands in question.
“I think she was trying to help Mason, in her own way.”
It felt odd saying these things, but I couldn’t lie to them. Helen had only been a cold bitch to me, and she was still cold, but I wondered if she might no longer be a bitch.
I slipped into the empty chair at the table. “Yeah. I think she and I might be . . .” These words felt so alien in my mouth. “ . . . Okay after this.”
Then again, she didn’t really matter.
Mason did.
The next night Mason wanted to meet at the butterfly.
When he said those two words, I knew exactly where he meant. He said the renovations had been completed, and this time he’d gotten permission from his dad for us to be there. They changed the security codes to the entire place, so Mason was forced to ask.
This meant I got the codes too, and I was sitting in a lounge chair next to the pool when he walked inside.
My heart soared.
He came in with a fierceness. His eyes were blazing. As usual, he was gorgeous. Wearing jeans that molded perfectly to his trim waist, showcasing his firm upper legs, and hugging his ass, he twisted around to make sure the door was shut.
I took a breath. I wanted to touch him and cry all at the same time.
He wore a black Cain U football jacket, which molded to him just like his jeans, like perfection. His body was a well-oiled machine.
“Hey.” He ran a hand over his black crew cut, and my hand actually jerked.
That was my job. I got to run my hand over his hair. I did it when we were in bed. I had to tuck my hand on my lap to keep from going to him.
“Hey.” I flinched at how hoarse my voice was. “Sorry.”
Sadness flared in his eyes, replacing the fire. His shoulders slumped, and he pushed his hands into his pockets. He didn’t sit next to me, just leaned against the closest pole, which was ten feet away.
He opened his mouth.
I leaned forward to hear, but tensed at the same time.
Then he closed it.
I was right there with him. “It was weird coming here alone,” I said.
“Yeah.” He looked away.
His hand went back to his hair. I smiled bitterly. Logan did that all the time, but I’d never seen Mason do it until now. Why? Because his hands were usually touching me.
I asked softly, and because I had to know, “What are you feeling right now?”
His eyes met mine, searching.
“Like my soul was yanked out of me,” he said.
I could relate. “I’m sorry.”
He lifted a shoulder, but looked away again. “I know why you left.”
Technically, I hadn’t. I made the decision, but there were no words shared. Only looks and years of reading each other’s thoughts. I might’ve made the decision to go, but I was the one who hadn’t been able to do it. Mason did, so technically, it was just one more thing he did for me. He was the one who left.
“Yeah.” I had no other words.
He shook his head, letting out a deep sigh. “Where do we go from here? Do we share custody of Logan or something?”
So quick. “Is that it?”
“What?” He frowned, looking back at me again. I saw anguish there. His eyes darkened, and he blinked a few times, holding back tears.
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
I wanted him to. I needed him to.
He raked a hand over his face and jaw. That chiseled and strong jaw that had faced down so many enemies—some of them for me, some for other loved ones, some for him, and some just because he’d been hurting at the time.
He dropped his hand to his side. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m ashamed, Sam. I hate that it happened. I know I’m a part of it. And I know why you walked. To be honest, I was glad. A gun—fuck’s sake. He said it was for his dad, but who knows if that was true. What if he’d been more depressed that day? What if I hadn’t seen it coming? Depression translates to anger real quick for guys. I thought he was there for another fight, and I kept thinking, He won’t go away. I wanted him to leave, but not for me. Not even for Logan. For you. No matter what Quinn says, he still has a thing for you. I know he does. I see it in him.”