But I guess that wasn’t why she had called this time.
“Reese.” The serious note in her voice had me holding my breath.
I bolted upright, instantly alert. “What happened now?”
Mason rolled onto his side toward me. Before I could even turn his way for support, he took my hand, helping me brace for the worst.
“Jeremy…” my mother started.
My throat dropped into my stomach. “His trial was dropped again,” I croaked, my skin chilling to icicles. “Wasn’t it? He’s free?”
“No,” Mom said. “No, not at all. He’s dead, honey. He got into a fight in jail and was stabbed to death. Two days ago. I think the newspaper called it a…a shanking or something like that?”
I covered my mouth with one hand and met Mason’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he mouthed.
I shook my head and turned away, still not sure how to react. I had certainly never wished this kind of harm to come to my psycho stalker ex. But I’d technically been finished with him since the beginning of my junior year. There were no lingering feelings of affection at all.
There was just…oh, God.
Relief.
Mom talked a few minutes longer, but I kind of shrugged her off, thanking her for calling and letting me know but saying I had to go.
When I hung up, I told Mason the news.
He was mostly quiet, studying me intently. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, looking more through him than at him. “Yeah, I…” Finally, I focused on his face. “I’m free.”
His grin was slow and approving as he took my hands and squeezed my fingers. “We’re both free.”
“Free at last,” I sang out, grinning, only to brighten. “Ooh, that reminds me…” I paused with an arch of my eyebrows and tilt of my head. “Actually, I have no idea how that reminded me, but it made me remember, for some strange reason. Isn’t it odd how one thing can remind you of—”
“Reese!” Mason cut in, his exasperated voice and amused grin telling me how badly I was rambling.
“Right.” I got back on track. “I wrote you a poem.”
He wrinkled his brow into frown. “You wrote a poem? For me? Really?”
I bobbed my head enthusiastically. After digging into my pocket, I yanked free the multi-folded sheet of notebook paper I’d ripped out of one of my binders.
His throat worked as he swallowed. “Wow. That’s…that’s really sweet.”
“Thanks.” I tried to toss my hair over my shoulder before I realized I had it up in a ponytail. God, I loved being able to wear my hair up again.
Mason waved his hand. “Let’s hear this thing.” He sounded excited.
I nodded, clearing my throat and straightening the wrinkles in the page so I could read aloud what I’d written.
Way down in the boondocks of Waterford,
The girls liked to pay for their manly sword.
Goodbye, Mr. Mason Lowe.
Oh, what a gigolo.