My dad’s question startles me out of my thoughts. “Actually, it’s a lot more than that, and I’d like to tell you about it.”

The shrill ringing of the house phone prevents me from saying anything further. Hardly anyone calls that number, so we all pause a moment. Mom’s eyes meet mine for a quick second before she’s on her feet to answer the call. “Hello?” she says.

Slowly, Mom turns her whole back to me. Her hand grips the edge of the counter. Her shoulders slump. When she speaks, it’s so quiet I can’t decipher what she’s saying.

Something is wrong. She’s displaying the classic signs of bad news. Worry numbs my senses. I shiver and can’t stop.

Mom hangs up the phone. She scoots her chair beside mine so we’re touching, then takes my hand in hers. “Mason passed away this morning,” she says softly.

I had a feeling that’s what she was going to say. The numbness intensifies as I sit there, quietly suffering through a piece of my heart breaking. Mason is gone. He’s gone, and if I hadn’t visited him last night… If I hadn’t gotten to apologize, to talk to him, tell him how much I miss him and that he’ll forever be a part of me, I would have missed my chance and been even more devastated than I am right now.

Was he waiting for me? Sticking around until I got a chance to tell him good-bye?

“He passed away peacefully in his sleep, honey.”

Silent tears stream down my face. Mom wraps her arm around me while Dad moves to my other side and does the same. “He’s going to a better place,” he says.

I nod, too torn up to speak. The person who for a long time meant more to me than anyone, who helped shape me into the person I am today, is gone. I wiggle my nose and suck in my bottom lip, but it doesn’t help. The tears fall in earnest.

My parents hold me while I cry. Right after the accident, they were furious, torn up inside. Beyond saddened by my actions. They’d taught me better than that, hadn’t they? But they still loved me, and they stuck by me no matter what. Even when so-called friends wanted nothing to do with me, or people I’d known all my life looked away when I walked into church, or the grocery store. It softened the blow slightly, that they found it in their hearts to forgive me. It was a gift I never took lightly.

Dad gets up to grab me—and Mom—some tissues. When our sobs finally quiet, we talk about what comes next. Funeral arrangements will be made, so I decide to extend my stay. As hard as it will be, there’s no way I can leave without seeing him laid to rest. I ask my mom if I can borrow her phone charger then head upstairs to shower. I stand under the spray until the warm water turns cold. The rest of the day goes by in a blur.

Sunday morning I wake up and don’t know what to do with myself, so I cook. Banana muffins, lasagna, chicken parmesan, and Mason’s favorite, peanut-butter-chocolate brownies. The recipes allow me to lose myself in the ingredients and measurements.

Dad passes through the kitchen on his way to a golf game. He mentions something about law school, but I don’t really hear him.

By late afternoon, I’m drained. I collapse onto my bed to close my eyes for a little bit. When my phone rings, I know who it is without looking. I didn’t answer his calls yesterday, too upset about Mason and worried I’d ugly cry in his ear. I think I’m ready to have a conversation now, so I pick up on the third ring, noting I’m right about the caller. “Hi, Vaughn.”

“Hi.”

I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound of his voice.

“How are you?” he continues. “I was worried when we didn’t connect yesterday.”

“I’m… Mason passed away yesterday.” I curl into a ball. It’s the first time I’ve said that aloud. I texted Amber and Dixie this morning with the news and to let them know I wouldn’t be home until the end of the week.

He lets out a miserable sigh. “I’m so sorry. Did you get a chance to see him?”

“Yeah. I spent a few hours with him on Friday night and Vaughn, it was”—tears prick my eyes but I blink them away—“so comforting to talk to him and finally get closure.”

“I’m sure it meant a lot to him, too.”

“I wish I’d pushed to do it sooner.” My whisper is soft and thin, like a worn cloth polishing an old regret until it gleams anew.

“We all do things at our own pace. If you’d gone earlier, you might not have been ready for everything you needed to say.”

“True,” I say quietly.

We’re both silent for several seconds. “How are you?” I ask, remembering my manners.

“I’m okay. Missing a certain blond, blue-eyed angel.”

It’s so tempting to lean into those words. Let them support me and give me strength when I feel a little lost. It’s reassurin

g to be missed. Cared for. Especially after the events of the past two days. It’s beyond tempting to confess I miss him, too, but I’m stronger than that.

Into my silence he asks, “So, when are you coming back?”

Tags: Samanthe Beck Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net