Reputation (Mason Family 2)

But … where am I?

Do I even want to be here?

I thought long and hard last night about what here really meant. It’s not just Nashville or in my house or this place in my career. Here isn’t just at this point in this web of experiences and emotions.

Quite frankly, I loathe just about everyone in this particular experience.

I despise lying and that I had to lie—to fake date a woman I didn’t even know—to look like an upright guy. I am an upright guy. Maybe a little wild here and there, but I’m a good person. My parents raised us all to be honest and real and this world here, it’s anything but. And I loathe that.

I take out a glass and pour myself some water from the tap. Just as I’m about to take a drink, my phone buzzes.

I grab it, hoping that it’s Bells.

It’s not.

Meadow: Are you prepared to be responsible for your future today? Tell me that you’re home.

Her words burn through me like a lit match. Condescending, much?

No. I’m not home. I’m here.

The thought speeds through my brain like a train going warp-speed.

I sit the glass down and grip the countertop.

Home.

The word conjures up images of heated, ridiculous arguments and then laughter with Bellamy. sleeping Bellamy Scents of bacon in the morning. My mom’s kitchen, with my brothers packed around—even Wade—and Joe’s living room with his game shows up way too loud.

It’s playing the piano with Hollis and Fourth of July parties on the boat. It’s Bells’s face when I walk in the door and the moss dangling from the southern oaks that line the streets.

It’s knowing that people have your back. It’s knowing that you have theirs. Home is safety and support and … love.

And it’s where I should be.

“Fuck.”

I reread Meadow’s text.

Are you prepared to be responsible for your future today?

A knot twists, and grows, and groans inside my body. It wraps around my heart and yanks it until I pay attention.

Every time I’ve thought about my future in the last week, it was only about Bellamy. It might’ve included this contract, but really only in what way it would affect me not being home.

I gulp.

I stand at the counter and stare into space. Snap, snap, snap!—all of the pieces of my life fall into place.

Except one. Except for the one where I failed my responsibility.

My phone buzzes again, and I look down.

Hollis: Emailed you some lyrics. Tentatively titled Say It. Couldn’t sleep. It’s weird how inspiration hits you.

Say It.

Hollis’s text mixes with Holt’s advice. They slam together in a dizzying revelation.

I grab my phone and type out a text.

Me: You’re a genius, Hollis.

Hollis: Wow. Okay. Thanks.

I laugh as I race back through the house. My head spins so fast that I don’t know what to do first.

So, I do the first thing that comes to mind.

Me: Meadow, you’re fired.

Then I do the next thing that comes to mind. I call Holt.

“Hello?” he says.

“Hey, I need a favor …”

Twenty-Seven

Bellamy

“Well, this isn’t my best look.”

Brownie batter stains the front of my shirt. I wipe my finger between my boobs and scoop it off. Then, after considering that the shirt is freshly laundered, I shove my finger in my mouth.

There’s no sense in wasting good brownie batter.

The door squeaks open in the living room. I bend my neck to the side to see who it is.

“Hey,” Larissa says. “What are you—ooh, Bells. Let’s not.”

I pull my finger from my mouth. It makes a popping sound just as Boone comes around the corner.

“What?” I ask.

“That’s … a look,” Larissa says, making a face. She takes the bowl away from me, tugging at it when I try to resist. “Gimme.”

I pull it towards me pretty hard. When I release it, it sends Larissa stepping back a few paces.

I grin. “Serves you right.”

“Someone is hateful.” Boone sticks his finger in the bowl. “But this looks good.”

“You two are disgusting,” Larissa says.

Boone nods, licking the remnants off his hand. “Damn good.”

“Thank you,” I say, nodding back at him. “I didn’t use eggs, so that’s why it’s a little heavier than usual. Figured there’s no reason to torture myself with salmonella too.”

“I’ve seen the men you sleep with. Salmonella is the least of your concerns,” Larissa says, scraping the batter into the garbage disposal. “Now, go get yourself cleaned up.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because I have to go to a couple of consultations today, and Hollis thinks I’m going to die,” Larissa says, looking at me over her shoulder. “I promised him I wouldn’t go alone.”

“Take Boone.”

“I’m going.” Boone looks unamused. “Not happy about it.”

“Then why do I have to go?”

Larissa sighs. “Because Boone can only go to the first one. So I need a rider for the second. And …”

“And she’s dropping me off at the office on the way back through,” he says.