This was exactly the kind of saving I’d always wanted but never thought was possible. Of course, I was all for it.
* * *
A week passed.
Eva began to heal, and Reese said she would probably be released from the hospital any day now, even though they had no idea where to take her once she left. Her parents had basically disowned her as soon as they found out about the baby.
I guess they demanded she get rid of it, but Eva adamantly insisted she wanted to keep it, which had surprised the hell out of me.
When Reese had told me that bit of information, I had shaken my head, unable to picture the pampered, selfish socialite I’d always seen in Eva as becoming the motherly type. “You mean, she actually wants the baby?”
“Yep, I guess.” Then Reese narrowed her eyes and pointed at me sternly before I could say anything else. “And yes, I know; stop looking at me like that. But I’ve heard of stranger things happening. Maybe she’ll be a kick-ass mom. Who knows? I mean, just her determination to keep it gives me hope that she’ll be okay. Maybe being shot, disowned, and knocked up is forcing her to change. Maybe for the better.”
Maybe. Hopefully. Because hearing the list of Eva’s woes made my gut tighten with dread. A third of those woes were my fault. I hated knowing that my decision to not sleep with Patricia had ended with Eva getting hurt. Almost as much as I hated being too afraid to tell Reese how I’d been involved in her cousin’s hospital stay.
“I asked her to move into my garage apartment with me,” Reese was saying, totally oblivious to my swirling remorse. “But since the place is owned by her parents, she wants nothing to do with that idea, and actually…” She winced and glanced at me. “I don’t really like the idea of staying there myself after what happened. I mean, how could they just wipe their hands of her, just like that? It feels wrong living in a piece of their property.”
I glanced at her knowingly. “Trust me. I get it.” I had sent Patricia our notice, letting her know we’d be leaving before the end of the year and would want our deposit back, though I wasn’t holding my breath on ever seeing that money again. But it couldn’t hurt to try.
I hadn’t even discussed the idea of moving out with Mom yet, but that just showed how determined I was to get away from our landlady. Even if Mom refused to come with me—an idea which sent panic through my ext
remities—I was leaving this town. Since Reese had entered my life, all my priorities and fears and dreams had changed.
Two months couldn’t come fast enough. Reese and I were escaping this place.
Reese squeezed my hand. “We just need to hang on a little longer, baby. And then we’ll both be free. Your mom and sister, too. I just know it.”
I loved her hope. But when I kissed her hair, in the back of my mind I wondered how I could ever really feel free from anything with all this guilt hanging over my head.
Except, I couldn’t see how Reese would forgive me for what I hadn’t done, either. I knew I needed to tell her it was my fault but I was still trying to figure out how.
The next day, I was still playing my hypothetical confession over and over through my head, debating the best way to tell her and maybe not lose her in the process, when my phone rang.
I was currently home alone while Mom and Sarah were gone to a doctor’s appointment. It was strange, being here by myself. I used to be gone a lot, working at the Country Club or taking on a client, and then more recently, I’d been at college most of my time. But since being suspended from the Country Club, I’d been home a lot more. I even watched Sarah for Reese quite a bit since Reese spent most of her time at the hospital with Eva.
The entire house felt eerily quiet. I grabbed my phone, glad for the distraction from my thoughts, hoping it was Reese.
But the number was unfamiliar. I considered ignoring it, thinking it was probably just another persistent client, except I worried it might be Reese or Mom needing to call from a different phone.
“Hello?” I answered warily.
There was a pause, then a relieved sigh before a man’s voice said, “Mason.”
He sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place how before he added, “This is Stuart Scharper. My wife, Farah, and I heard about all the excitement you had at the community college last week with the crazed gunman, and we just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Hey, Mason,” the senator’s wife piped in quietly. “That was really heroic of you, the way you tackled him and saved lives.”
I didn’t feel very heroic since it was my fault the guy had showed up in the first place. But I was even more confused about getting this call. “Uh…hey,” I said uncertainly. “Thank you.” I’d never expected to hear from them because of this. It was plain bizarre to learn any of my clients would actually worry about me.
“You’re a good kid, Mason,” the senator said, shocking me even more. “We really appreciate everything you ever did for us. So, if you need anything... I mean, we probably can’t help you publicly because of your, you know, your past. But if you ever need anything privately...” His words trailed off as if he expected me to start listing off a page full of requests.
“Thanks,” I said again, shaking my head over such a puzzling conversation. “But, uh, I’m good, I think. Thank you anyway.”
“Oh.” The senator sounded almost disappointed. “Well...”
He hesitated, so his wife took that opportunity to cut in with, “Can we ask you something?”
“Sure,” I said hesitantly, wondering why she felt the need to ask me if she could ask a question. It must be something really—