It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to head over to her place tonight and confront her, because he’d learned over the years that Katrina was the kind of person who internalized things for a while. Sometimes longer than he was even aware of. And he was honestly afraid that if he pushed her too hard, too fast, too soon, she’d withdraw even further, to the point that it would do irreparable damage to their new and fragile relationship.
The thought of losing her, in any way, struck at the heart of his fears and insecurities, which made it difficult for him to give her the space that she seemed to need right now. As much as it killed him, he’d allow her the rest of the weekend alone, to hopefully come to the conclusion to trust him with whatever issue was driving this goddamn wedge between them.
But come Monday, they were going to talk and hash out the problem, whether she wanted to or not.
Chapter Thirteen
Katrina stared at the sharp butcher’s knife in her hand, her heart beating hard and fast in her chest. It was late Sunday night, and one minute, she was slicing an apple to eat because she hadn’t had anything of substance in her stomach all day, and the next second, the shiny steel blade was whispering to that weak part of her subconscious, promising her relief from the intense, emotional misery twisting inside her if only she’d press the sharp edge of the knife to her skin and slice it open.
She’d done it before, and she knew what to expect.
One cut, and all the horrible feelings would fade away as she embraced the physical rush of pain. Two slices, and she’d escape this awful reality she’d been living for the past week. Three deep lacerations, and she’d forget that Connor, a man who’d raped her so brutally, was insinuating himself back into Mason’s life and pushing her out of it. Four slashes through her flesh, and she’d finally have the reprieve she desperately needed from the fear and anxiety that she now lived with on a daily basis.
A sob caught in her throat and hot, scalding tears filled her eyes. What the hell am I doing? Katrina immediately dropped the knife to the cutting board, refusing to revert to that terrible addiction that she knew would only offer a temporary release to the internal pain and increasing depression that was suffocating her. But mostly, she refused to let Connor’s presence break her down even more emotionally. She refused to let him win and send her spiraling back into the depths of despair, where she’d spent the entire weekend. No amount of cutting and self-harm would change the situation or make Connor go away. And that meant she had to figure out a healthier way to deal with the situation and her anxiety.
Stepping away from the counter, she drew in a shaky breath and swiped away the tears on her cheeks, grateful for her own mental breakdown that was forcing her to make difficult decisions and take charge of her life again, instead of living in constant fear. Just as she’d taken control after her stepfather’s abuse, and again after Connor’s attack back in high school. She refused to allow such an asshole to have so much power over her emotions, and she would not let him come between her and Mason and destroy the one thing that made her so completely happy.
Which meant she had to tell Mason the truth, because if she couldn’t be open and honest with him about everything, and trust him with something so dark and painful, then what hope did they have of a successful future? What hope did she have?
Decision made, she went into the living room, picked up her cell phone, and sent Mason a brief text. I need to talk to you tomorrow.
Seconds later, he replied. I want to talk to you, too. But there’s something important I have to do in the morning, and I won’t be in the shop until around one.
She couldn’t help but wonder what was so important that he’d blocked off half of a Monday to do, but didn’t ask. Considering that she’d shut him out for the past three days, she was grateful for whatever time he would give her. That’s fine. I’ll see you then.
* * *
By twelve forty-five the following afternoon, Katrina couldn’t deny that her nerves were starting to get the best of her as she thought about her upcoming conversation with Mason, which, according to the clock on the wall at Inked, would be very soon.
She was sitting at the drafting table sketching an intricate design of a fairy for a woman’s upper back, which gave her something to focus on instead of all the possible scenarios looping through her mind featuring Mason’s various reactions to their discussion. She had no idea how everything was going to play out, but it didn’t matter, because it wouldn’t change the fact that she was finally going to c
onfide in her best friend. Something she should have done back in high school after Connor had raped her.
She absently glanced up at the clock again. Not even five minutes had passed. So far, it had been a slow and mostly quiet morning, which was normal for a Monday. Derek and Caleb had had a few standing appointments, which they’d both finished by noon. With time free before their next customers, they’d decided to go out and grab a bite to eat for lunch. That left Katrina and Jasmine in the shop.
All morning long, Katrina had found herself wondering where Mason might be, and the only thing she could come up with was that he’d had some kind of plans with Connor. Last week, every day Connor had stopped by Inked in his attempt to reestablish his friendship with Mason and insinuate himself back into Mason’s life. And every time he’d come into the shop, he’d tried to strike up a conversation with her, as if they were long-lost buddies. She’d kept her replies curt, and found it best if she just walked away so she didn’t have to be in his presence or deal with the dread and unease that always accompanied his visits.
The front door to the shop opened, and knowing it was Mason, Katrina immediately glanced up—and felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach as she watched Connor stroll in. By himself. She kept waiting for Mason to appear, to walk in behind him . . . but it never happened.
“Hey, Jasmine,” Connor said, greeting the other girl with a smile as he leaned against the front counter. “Is Mason here?”
Katrina didn’t look in his direction—it was rude of her, but she didn’t care—though she could see Connor in her peripheral vision as she sketched. The fact that he was asking for Mason meant they hadn’t spent the morning together. So where was he?
“No, he’s been out all morning,” Jasmine replied in the same friendly manner she treated all people who came into the shop. “I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”
“Okay,” Connor said easily. “Will you leave a message for him that I stopped by?”
“Sure thing.”
Good, now he’ll leave. Katrina exhaled a deep, calming breath and kept her head down, but as soon as she saw him coming toward the drafting table, her entire body tensed. She couldn’t even move the pencil in her hand.
“Hey, Katrina,” he said, stopping beside the table less than an arm’s length away and invading way too much of her personal space.
The knot in her stomach tightened. “Hey,” she muttered, because the last thing she wanted to do was antagonize him in any way. That was definitely one thing she remembered about him back in high school—he’d always had a short fuse. He might have outgrown it, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
“You weren’t around Saturday or Sunday,” he said, and Katrina hated that he knew her schedule or had noticed her absence from the shop. “Big plans this past weekend?”
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t just sit there and have any kind of conversation with him and pretend as though everything was fine and he’d never violated her in the worst way possible. Her heart was pumping so hard in her chest that it hurt, and she knew she had to get away from him. Now.