Reputation (Mason Family 2)

“How was I supposed to know he was this sick? Why didn’t someone tell me? Does Boone know?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course, Boone knows. I see him every day. And I don’t know why your mom or Boone didn’t describe the depths of my daddy’s sickness so you could gauge whether it was worth your time or not.”

Coy’s jaw sets, and his demeanor cools. “That’s not fair.”

“You’re damn right it’s not.”

We glare at each other.

“I’m not around every day, so I’m blackballed? Is that what this is?” he asks.

My laughter is abrupt and loud and causes him to flinch.

“You are so precious,” I say, releasing years of frustration. “I try to tell you what’s going on, and you blow me off—”

He balks like he has no idea what I’m talking about. “What?”

“And then you decide you’re the victim?” I laugh angrily again. “That’s not how this works.”

I leave him standing in the living room and walk to the kitchen. I need fresh air. Space. Room to calm myself down.

My emotions were so high before this—before he caught me crying. God knows that I’d never let him see me cry on purpose.

I’m not alone for long. Coy enters the kitchen with a flurry.

I close my eyes. “I really don’t want to do this,” I tell him, exhaustion sinking deep into my bones. “Please, go.”

When he doesn’t respond for a full minute, I lift my chin and look at him.

He’s standing in the doorway with a sober look on his face. There’s no ego, no cockiness—none of the self-importance I expect to see.

Instead, there stands a man who wormed his way into my heart so many years ago. I can’t shake it or deny it, even if I want to.

My shoulders slump as my will to argue melts away. I cried myself tired.

“What did you mean that you tried to tell me what was happening, and I blew you off?” he asks softly. “And don’t get snarky or start yelling. Talk to me, Bells.”

I exhale long and loud. “I texted you. You ignored me. Well, until you called me like two weeks later.”

He furrows a brow. “Bellamy, that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

He holds a hand out toward me like he can ward off an eruption of anger. Lucky for him, I’m too defeated right now to get angry again.

“I found out from my mom that your dad was sick,” he says. “I never got a text from you.”

I shrug.

“I swear to you, Bells. I didn’t know until Mom told me.” He takes a cautious step forward. “Did you really reach out to me?”

“Yes. The night I found out.” My lip trembles again as I think back on that fateful day. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to tell Riss or Boone yet. I didn’t want them coming over here and babying me. I just wanted to talk …”

I walk backward until the back of my knees hit a chair. My weight drops to the seat, and I sink into the wood.

Coy doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. He just watches me sit in front of him like a caged animal.

“I know it doesn’t matter right now,” he says. “Not to you. And I get that. But do you know what day you found out? What day you texted me? Because I swear to you, Bellamy, that I didn’t get it.” He lowers his head. “I would’ve responded. I swear it.”

“It’s okay that you didn’t. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I—”

“Dammit, Bellamy. Listen to me.” He steps toward me again. “I would’ve responded.”

But you didn’t.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I tell him. “We were friends a long time ago. That’s it. You have no responsibility to me.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve always had a responsibility to you. Don’t be dense.”

My eyes nearly fall out of my head.

“Remember Bodhi? That fuckhead you dated when you were seventeen? I didn’t just crack him because I was jealous—although I probably was. I busted him in the face because I caught him out with another girl, and he had the nerve to say some unflattering bullshit about you.”

I stand. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“So you realize that you meant something to me even then,” he says, his eyes growing wide as if he’s as surprised to hear the words as I am. “So you understand that I would never, would never, Bellamy, not be there for you.”

My jaw hits the floor as I try to absorb this information. I don’t give a crap about Bodhi now. I didn’t even really care about him then. ‘So you realize that you meant something to me even then’—that’s a lot to digest.

I can’t process all of this right now. Not when my brain was already mush when this whole thing started tonight. The only thing I can pick out—the only thing that I know for sure—is that Coy has had many opportunities to stick around, and he never has.