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“Why can’t you just talk to me?” I cried.
Mason spun around on one heel, anger releasing as he spoke.
“Because if I showed that side of me, then everyone would be expecting it, and if I screwed u
p, which I often do, I would have to stare into the sea of disappointed faces,” he said angrily. “I don’t want to be reminded of how much of a disappointment I am to everyone.” A tear trickled down his cheek but he turned away so that I couldn’t see it. I ripped off the blanket and got out of bed, grabbing his hand in mine, cupping his cheek with the other hand.
“Everyone, including your family, needs to see the good in you,” I reminded him. “I am not disappointed.”
His eyes widened, and his jaw clenched tight. “I don’t care about you, Lauren. Move on.” He pulled away, glared at me for a long, painful moment, then walked out. It felt as though he had shot me in the chest. Then about the same time my mother arrived at the hospital in a panic. I could hear her in the hallway. I stepped out of the room and called out to her. Her shoulders slumped, and she charged over to me, taking me in her arms.
“What happened?”
“I’m fine.” I hugged her back.
“They said you almost drowned, Lauren. How did that happen?” she asked. Tears streaked her face.
“I was wandering around the forest by the Harpers’ mansion in the dark. I shouldn’t have been out there, but I wasn’t thinking.”
“Cassie said Mason saved you.” she said.
“Yes.” I fought the sob.
“He’s your own personal guardian angel.” She sighed.
“He is far from an angel.” I wiped my face. “Can we go home?”
“Yes.” She took my hand and we started the process of my release.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Later that night I had to work. I arrived for my shift half an hour early to talk to Mrs. Peterson. I let her know what happened the night before just as a precaution in case anything happened during my shift. She offered to give me the night off, but I had to keep busy, so I refused.
“I’ll be fine . I feel fine,” I assured her. “I just thought you should know.”
“Well, thank you for the heads-up. You let me know if anything changes,” she said, hugging me.
“I will. Thank you,” I replied.
It was Friday night and a busy night at that, so busy that the next time I glanced at my watch, my shift was over. The shift turned out better than the night before. Mrs. Peterson was happier as well. Despite what had happened hours prior, I was feeling good. The tips were pretty good too. Making my way out of the restaurant, I waved bye to anyone who was looking.
When I got to my car, the cook from the other night was sitting on the trunk of his car, smoking.
“Hey, new girl.” He nodded.
“Mike, right?” I said, slowing down. His head bobbed and he smiled.
“A bunch of us are going to the bar after this, if you want to come,” he said. I eyed him a moment, then looked around.
“Who’s the bunch?” I asked.
“I’m waitin’ on a few that are closin’ up.” He smirked.
I thought for a moment, and said, “Okay,” with a nod.
Probably not a good idea considering what I went through the previous night.
“Where is this bar?” I asked, putting my things in the back seat of the car.
