I don’t miss the frustrated groan that leaves his lips, and I feel awful that he’s been put on leave. “I know, it’s weird not running around with my head cut off. But I think I’m going to visit a grief support group. Lennon mentioned it and going might help me work through my emotions. Maybe I’ll be able to heal quicker and can put it all in my past where it belongs.”
“A grief support group? Like where you talk about missing a loved one?” His tone is edgier than before, and I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens.
“Basically, yeah. Talk about a death that impacted you and how you’re dealing with it,” I try to explain, but when his brows crease, and he tilts his head, I know he’s still confused about why I would go to something like that. “I’m not grieving him. But I do need to work out how I feel. I thought I was in love with him. I saw a future with him. I thought we were planning our forever together—as stupid as it makes me feel now. When things went from bad to worse, I became a shell of the person I used to be, and I recognized that. I wanted out. I wanted to leave, but I was scared of what he would do if I did. I feel foolish when I say it aloud—”
“Soph, no,” Mason interrupts harshly, reaching over to grab my hand. “You were a victim, and he brainwashed and manipulated you. Don’t continue to give him that power over you. You have no reason to feel stupid. It’s easy to turn a blind eye to issues when you love someone. I just wish I would’ve done something sooner, but I messed up when I thought keeping you at a distance was best for both of us.”
“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done, Mason,” I reassure him. “I didn’t want help. I thought I had it under control. If I said the right things, did what he asked, didn’t get in his way, didn’t push his buttons. As long as I didn’t piss him off, I believed he would love me. I don’t know why or how I became that person. Looking back now, that woman wasn’t me. I was trapped under his spell, and if it wasn’t for you, I have no doubt he would’ve done something to me. Something much worse than just a black eye and bruised limbs. Those I can cover up and heal from, but the emotional and mental—the invisible pain—that’s what I need to work through.”
“I get it,” he says with a small smile. “If you want me to go with you, I will.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. But this is something I need to do on my own.”
Mason nods and stands. “Well, let’s get your bookcase in here so you can organize all your books because I know you’re dying to,” he tells me with a soft chuckle.
I shrug with a smirk. “Maybe. But how? Should I do by spine color? Genre? Author?”
Mason reaches for me and pulls me out of bed. With his arms wrapped around me, I melt into his hard chest and inhale his fresh just-out-of-the-shower scent. “Oh, sweet Sophie. What am I gonna do with you?”
My insides nearly burst when he calls me that. It brings back every single memory of that night together, and my stomach flutters just thinking about it.
Then he kisses my forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment longer than necessary before he pulls away and leads me out of the room with our hands still joined.
It feels weird being around people actually grieving those they love and miss. I don’t plan to reveal my whole story or the truth of why I’m here. There’s no easy explanation, and these people are strangers to me, which makes me feel slightly uncomfortable.
The moment I enter, my guard goes up, and I’m not sure I can do this. With my head down, I walk to the snack table and grab a cookie. Immediately, I realized it’s stale and reach for a Styrofoam cup for coffee.
“Unless you have a death wish, I wouldn’t drink that,” says a deep voice next to me. The rasp of it commands my attention, and goose bumps surface across my arms. Rough and low. A slight accent, I think? The moment I turn and look at him, I realize how much it doesn’t match his physical appearance. He’s flashing me a warm smile with straight white teeth, and it takes a minute to realize he’s waiting for me to respond.
“Is that so? Think someone poisoned it?” I smirk, putting the cup back just to be safe.
He rewards me with a nice-sounding chuckle, his eyes sparkling under the lights. “Might as well be…” Then he leans in close, almost too close. “But I’m pretty sure it’s decade-old instant coffee. The elder church ladies here don’t let anything go to waste.”