Page 44 of Fallen Hero

“Is it peaceful?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“I’m glad you have that.”

Even though Mason was mostly a dick to me, he was still a good man who did good work. He deserved peace.

“Where do you live?”

“Nowhere.”

“Nowhere?” I didn’t miss the disbelief in his tone.

He’d told me more than once he didn’t trust me, and he obviously thought I was evading, not telling the truth.

“Nowhere,” I confirmed. “I have some stuff at my mom’s house, old keepsakes from high school that people keep until they’ve moved them enough times, they wonder why they have them and throw them away. When I have downtime, which isn’t often, I do a short-term rental or stay in a hotel. I do have a storage unit in Phoenix and one in Charleston. Not furniture or anything personal. Clothes, shoes, cash, IDs, things like that.”

“You didn’t mention staying with your mom during your downtime,” he pointed out.

I hesitated, but not for the reasons I normally would. There was nothing about my mother that was normal. But if I took a pass on his question, he might get up and leave me out here alone. And for once in my life, I didn’t want to be alone. Feel alone.

“I avoid spending time with her as much as possible.”

There.

Answered.

“Why?”

Shit. Goddamn.

“She’s a drunk. I can deal with her when she’s tipsy. I can mostly deal with her when she’s drunk. I cannot handle her when she’s three sheets to the wind, crying and carrying on about Lili and how I should’ve stopped my sister from going out with her boyfriend.”

I slid my gaze back to the high-rises, not wanting to witness his judgment. I knew it was coming; he’d said it would. Though in fairness, he was clear he didn’t shove his opinions onto other people.

Did he think I was an asshole for abandoning my mother? Did I? Some days, I could reconcile not visiting her by convincing myself I’d set boundaries. Other days, it was harder to sate the nagging in the back of my mind I’d left her alone in her grief.

The days when the guilt held me hostage, that was when I judged her, convicted her of not handling her pain the way I thought she should by punishing her with my absence.

Shame was a fickle bitch. Regret a prison. When they came together, they were an agonizing tornado of irrational emotions. I was caught in a never-ending cycle of self-loathing and guilt.

And I was a hypocrite.

I’d judged Mason from the time he’d stepped foot in my hotel room. I judged my mother and thought she was weak. Mason was right—and that pissed me off. I judged people every day.

The rumble radiating from Mason pulled my attention back to him. “She blames you?”

“Of course. I was with her at the mall with her and her boyfriend. He wanted to leave. I wanted to stay and meet up with some friends, so they left me there.”

I could almost feel my sister’s last hug in front of the Claire’s Boutique. I could smell the flowery lotion on her skin from Bath & Body Works. I could see her cute red tank top and matching flip-flops.

I didn’t watch her walk away. I’d turned and hustled to the food court where I knew my friends were.

If I had known that would be the last time I saw her, I would’ve watched. I would’ve hugged her tighter. I would have told her I loved her. But I didn’t.

“Why don’t you like the movie Forrest Gump?”

Mason’s jaw clenched, his shoulders stiffened, his abs contracted. I’d never seen a man turn to stone before my very eyes. It would’ve been fascinating if he didn’t look like he was about to come out of his skin.