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“Sophie.” I place my hand on the wall behind her and lean down so we’re only inches apart. “The point I’m making is that the fucking last thing you’re thinking of when you lose a loved one is how to get another woman into bed with you. Throwing shit, punching walls, contemplating how to take your own life because nothing makes sense—those are things I’d expect to see or hear. The pain, the insufferable guilt that it was her and not you, the dark thoughts that evade your mind. Those first few months after death are nearly intolerable. You’d rather suffer in silence than admit how much pain you’re in, but I can guarantee you with every fiber of my being that even touching another woman would be the last thing on my mind. Losing your wife should feel like losing half of your own soul. That guy, no matter how good of a front you say he’s putting on, did not lose a spouse.”
Sophie’s chest rises and falls rapidly as if she can’t catch her own breath. Her gaze is locked on mine, and her stare is intense as if she’s trying to read my mind.
“How do you know that stuff?” she finally asks. “How a man would act losing his wife?”
I swallow, knowing I can’t lie to her. She deserves the truth.
Inhaling a deep breath, I try to mentally prepare myself for a conversation I’ve never had with anyone, not even the guys because they were around during this time and knew as soon as it all happened. “My girlfriend committed suicide, and it was my fault. I found her, but it was too late. She was already gone.” My chest deflats, the words feeling heavy as if they’ll smoother me.
Her breath hitches as a hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Mason.”
“Even if he’s saying his wife died in an accident, trust me when I tell you the grief never goes away. The pain, the guilt, the ache—it lives on eternally.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sophie
All the air leaves my lungs as Mason’s intense stare sends shivers down my entire body. His revelation has my heart racing as I try to wrap my mind around his words.
“Mason…” I say his name again on a whisper. “I had no idea.”
He shakes his head as if he can’t believe he just shared that part of himself, but I’m glad he did. I want to know everything about him. Mason steps back, putting space between us as he inhales a deep breath.
“Will you tell me about her?” I suck in my lower lip, knowing I’m stepping in unknown territory.
Mason nods as he takes a seat on the couch, and I follow, sitting next to him.
“Her name was Emma. We’d been dating for almost two years, and I was madly in love with her at the time. She was outgoing, unpredictable, spunky.” His voice sounds so broken as he says her name aloud, as if it causes him actual physical pain to say. “Things were great until they weren’t. She had started spiraling some time before she overdosed, but I was only twenty and thought she was just stressing out about school. I was in a frat, partying and rebelling against everything my dad stood for. Without even telling people, they knew who I was because of my last name. At the time, it felt like I had a point to prove, and it wasn’t always a good one. I enjoyed getting on my father’s nerves. When he’d call, I wouldn’t answer, and after a dozen missed calls, he’d show up to check on me. Wanted to make sure his money was going to good use. Then he’d talk to my professors and the dean and send in a donation check to make sure I stayed on the straight and narrow. He barged into my life every damn chance he could, which made me hate him even more. I wanted to just live my life without him hovering, and at that age, I did whatever it took to piss him off.”
I nod, understanding his reasoning even though his college experience was completely different from mine. Though if I had gone to a college closer to home, I can’t say my father wouldn’t have forced his way into my business either.
“I met Emma in English class my first semester, and we became inseparable. She was a wild girl, which is what I liked most about her, and I knew it would drive my dad crazy, so in my head, she was perfect. The start of our sophomore year, she started taking pills to stay awake longer. Then it evolved into opioids, and she said she was only taking them for pain in her back from sitting because she was studying so much. That should’ve been a red flag right there because she didn’t study nearly as much as she led on. We were together all the time when I wasn’t in class or doing my own thing. I noticed how high she was getting from them and told her she needed to stop, but she reassured me it was just to get through midterms and then again for finals. She seemed to be in control of her habit, so I stopped pressing the issue, and we’d stop fighting. A few times, she’d lost her shit and call me in tears, saying she was going to kill herself. I’d rush over and calm her down, stay with her all night until her high wore off. It was happening every couple of weeks, and after a while, I stopped believing her wolf cries and didn’t rush over. Each time I’d get there, she’d be rambling about something else, but after a while, I stopped believing she’d take her own life. I didn’t know why she would in the first place. I hadn’t suspected she was depressed, but afterward, I found out there was a lot I hadn’t known about her.
