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"Why the fuck didn't you tell her what happened over the past week?"
When I glance over at August, he tightens his grip on the steering wheel and rolls his lips. He's mad, but I don't think he's mad at Mason. He's mad at himself for the same reason I'm annoyed with myself. We both chose to prioritize each other over the circumstances. He's not holding his tongue for Mason's sake. He's doing it because he blames himself. I know this because I feel the same guilt for not asking questions.
As much as I want to reach across the armrest, hold his hand, and comfort him, I can't bring myself to move. I feel completely numb.What was the point of the past week? All the stress, worry, and pain were for nothing.
"Mason, can you tell me?"
August snaps his head towards me, and his eyes are filled with sadness and regret.
"Just tell me, please." I look out the passenger side window, not wanting to see anyone or feel anything.
"God, Gigi, I don't even know where to start."
August reaches over to take my hand, and I let him. Mason must see the gesture because there's a pregnant pause before he clears his throat and continues.
"August has been held hostage for the past week at the Bradbury Estate by Ethan and Carson." My head snaps to August in shock, but he doesn't meet my gaze. Instead, he keeps his eyes fixed on the road. I know he can feel my stare, but he doesn't acknowledge it, so I return my focus to the window. Being held hostage seems like a big deal to me, so the fact that he didn't tell me means he doesn't want to talk about it.
"He escaped this afternoon. There was an accident, and Carson died." My head swings back around to look at him, and still, he gives me nothing, eyes forward glued to the road. I can't believe what I'm hearing.
August was held hostage up until this afternoon. His girlfriend since high school is now dead. Which I want details on, but I'll wait until he’s ready to tell me.
“August, you came straight to Florida to get me?”
Still, he doesn’t give me his eyes. My question only earns me a brush of his thumb over mine before he squeezes my hand a little bit tighter.
The car stays silent for a beat before Mason clears his throat and picks up where he left off.
"I had been surveilling the place all week trying to figure out how you were tied into all this, and all I could come up with is that they were trying to keep you and August apart for a reason. That's when I knew I needed to get to August and figure out how your past might be tied to what's happening now. When I showed up, he had already been working on escaping."
Mason takes a noticeable deep breath, and August flicks his eyes up to the review mirror. I can tell they're communicating something they don't want me to know. I'm so done with the secrets and half-truths I could scream.
August has always been real with me, even to his own detriment. Sure, he has been crude and demanding, but that's how I knew he wasn't walking on eggshells to protect my feelings. That told me he thought I was strong, that he knew I could handle it, and tough shit if I couldn't.So, what's changed?
Fuck this. I'm not playing games. My dad is dead. I drop his hand right before he glares at me.
"Don't give me that look. I saw what just happened between the two of you. I thought we were done keeping secrets from each other. You can't ask me not to hide, only for you to go and do it."
He shakes his head and sets his jaw.
"Gianna, that look had nothing to do with me keeping anything from you. We told you Carson died today. I also escaped today. Do you think those two things are not related?"
Keeping my eyes pinned on him, I let his words sink in. Carson is dead, and both he and Mason were there when it happened. When I glance back at Mason, his eyes are pinned to the back of August's head with a blank stare.
The details I thought I wanted suddenly don't interest me. Whatever happened at Carson's house is undoubtedly still raw, and I'm not sure they have had time to process it. This is something I don't need to know, at least not right now anyway. I nod my head in understanding and return my gaze out the window. After a few minutes, Mason continues.
"We came back to my place where I gave August a CliffsNotes version of your past. That's when we found the connection. Your dad used to play golf with Eduard Haas and Robert Grand back in the day. Remember how you told me your grandparents left him money after they died, but he squandered it. Well, it turns out he bought stock in Suncast Media, which originally returned no profits, but over the years, Robert rebranded it and grew it into a multimillion-dollar company now known as Grand Media. Your father owned forty percent stock of Suncast Media. The shares he owned are now worth nearly five-hundred million dollars. Clearly, your dad had no idea that he still held stock. Robert and Eduard were the only other investors, and it's obvious that they intentionally kept him in the dark. After some more digging, I discovered their plan to forge a transfer of ownership from your dad to themselves and claim all the capital gains when the company goes public."
I hear Mason take a deep breath, and I know he’s rubbing his forehead without even looking at him. He does it whenever he is nervous, stressed, or deep in thought. It’s his tic, but it's also his tell. That head rub means he cares that he’s focused on what you’re saying, you have his attention, and he’s trying to fix it, and god, if that doesn’t pull at my heart strings. The man I’ve been infatuated with for the past nine years, my best friend and confidant, just spent the past week going to bat for me once again. I want to crawl into the backseat and curl into him as I’ve always done. To rest my head on his chest and breathe him in. In choosing August, I am losing my best friend. Mason and I will never be what we were, and it fucking hurts, but I also can’t imagine walking away from the man sitting next to me.
Bringing my hands to my temples, I start rubbing slow, methodical circles, trying to stave off the headache I’m getting from all this never-ending drama that is my life. I can never catch a fucking break. Blowing out a breath, I refocus my thoughts before asking.
"You believe they killed my dad?"
The car was already silent, but now it seemed everyone was holding their breath. Neither one of them wants to acknowledge my question, either because they don't know the answer, or they don't know how I'm going to react. Finally, turning around, I look Mason dead in the eye. "Tell me."
If his eyes could speak for him, I know what they'd say. He feels sorry for me, he wants to fix it, but you can't bring someone back from the grave.
"He was found unresponsive in his car from an apparent drug overdose outside the Grand Media development." That's where dad was working.
