“Yeah, but after Mason got your text, we texted Cole to see what was up,” Finn said. “He didn’t know what the fuck we were talking about, or why you were going to his house. It sent up just about every red flag he had. So he left Penny and went after you. That warehouse is one his dad owns.”
I swallowed, glancing back at the prone figure next to me. “And he’s really okay? He’ll be alright?”
“Yeah.” Mason followed my gaze. “It was a deep cut, and he lost a lot of blood, but they got to him in time.”
I wished I could reach over and touch the dark-haired boy, just to verify for myself that he really was solid and real and alive. But I was fading again already as pain meds, exhaustion, and shock slowly turned off the lights in my mind.
There were so many more questions to ask, so much more to process. But I couldn’t do it all now, and if I tried to let all of it in at once, to absorb the whole truth, it would overload my system entirely.
As my eyes started to droop shut again, Philip and Jacqueline stepped into the room. They both looked exhausted and shell-shocked, and for the first time since I’d met her, Jacqueline looked completely undone. Her hair was messy and unkempt, the skin under her eyes smudged with mascara as tears ran down her cheeks.
I was too far gone to keep my eyes open any longer, but as sleep took me again, I thought I felt her arms around me, thought I heard her soft sobs in my ear.
Whatever drugs I was on must’ve been good, because I slept hard and deep, untroubled by the nightmares that prowled at the edges of my mind.
It was only when I woke again that I remembered most of the nightmares were real.
The room was dark, lit by the glow of the streetlamps outside. Several shadowy figures were spread out around the room, taking up all of the available seats. Jacqueline and Philip had pressed their chairs close together, and she rested her head against his shoulder, her body c
urled toward his.
I blinked into the darkness, listening to the quiet sounds of the room, the soft noises of people sleeping. But when I turned my head toward the chairs lined up alongside my bed, I found a pair of deep green eyes watching me.
Of course Mason wasn’t asleep.
His body was still as rigidly tense as it’d been before, and I wondered if he had moved from that spot once since I’d woken up earlier.
Sitting up slowly, I pushed the blankets off and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My right one was wrapped in a cast again, but I refused to think about what that meant right now.
Mason sat forward quickly, his voice a whispered hiss. “Princess, what are you doing? You shouldn’t—”
Before he could rise to his feet, I limped over and crawled onto his lap, ignoring the awkwardness of my hospital gown and the clunkiness of my cast. For a second, I thought he might stand with me in his arms and deposit me right back on the bed, but when he didn’t, I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my cheek on his chest.
He held me like that for a long while, and although it felt a little like sitting on a statue, I eventually felt his fingers start to comb lightly through my hair.
“My dad told me everything. He told me the truth. Finally.”
His voice was rough, and I had a sudden vivid memory of him yelling back at the warehouse, of the anger in his tone. I hadn’t been able to register the words, but it must’ve been directed at his father.
“What did he say?” I whispered. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know, but I felt like Mason needed to speak it out loud. Needed to tell me.
“My mom… killed herself because of this. She couldn’t live with the fucking guilt of what they’d done. Everything in her note was about that; everything your mom said to her was because of that. Charlotte Hildebrand didn’t torture my mom—she tried to get her to do the right thing.”
I closed my eyes, focusing only on the feeling of Mason’s body beneath mine, the feel of his fingers in my hair.
“Alice Mercer said my mom hated all of them,” I murmured. “But I think she was scared of them too. That’s why she left Roseland. Why she went to the shittiest, most out of the way place she could think of. To get away. To try to live.”
“And they went after her anyway.” I could hear Mason swallow hard. “Maybe that’s what pushed my mom over the edge. They were best friends once.”
His breath was becoming shallower, his body more like stone beneath mine. His hand in my hair had stopped moving, and I could practically feel him retreating into himself, into the locked room of guilt that was his mind.
I sat up, pulling back so I could see him better as I cupped his cheeks in my hands. “Mason—”
“I’m so fucking sorry, Talia.” The words sounded like they were made of sandpaper, like they had scrubbed his soul raw before scraping out of his mouth. “What they did—what we did… You should hate us forever.”
Pain meds still made me woozy and loopy, but a strange sort of clarity filtered through my mind anyway. Still cradling Mason’s face in my hands, I leaned closer, holding his reluctant gaze as if I could force him to hear and believe my words.
“No. You saved me. The four of you today—you saved me. You came for me.” I brushed my thumb over the bruise on his cheekbone, my touch feather light. “You’ve hurt me too, I won’t deny that. But when I needed you, you came for me. We could hold onto our anger and guilt and pain forever, Mason. We could chase them around and around in our hearts and never get anywhere… or we could let them go.”