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Mason slowly pulls away and focuses on me. The lamp barely brightens the room, but it gives me enough light to see his dripping wet hair. The smell of soap fills the room.
Bringing his thumb to my cheeks, he gently wipes away my tears. “You okay?” I don’t know if he’s referring to the nightmare he woke me from or this entire night, but whether or not I’m okay is yet to be determined. I’m alive, but is that really the same thing?
Mason studies my face, then glances at my black eye and throat. He clenches his jaw, and I know he has questions. With flared nostrils, his mouth transforms into a straight line. Anger is written all over him as he tenses. I lower my eyes, not wanting him to see me like this—to see me at my worse—but it’s far too late for that now.
Slowly, Mason places his hands on top of mine, and the warmth of him is comforting. “Sophie. I’m so fucking sorry.”
My heart races. “Don’t you dare apologize, Mason.” More tears begin to well on the brims of my eyes until they fall. I’m not sure how I still have anything left inside me after the day I’ve had. “If anyone should be doing that right now, it’s me. I fucked up and treated you like shit and didn’t listen to you. I was so damn stubborn and thought I had things under control. I have so many regrets over the past six months. All of this could’ve been avoided. All of this.” Deep, heart-wrenching sobs escape me.
He gives me a sad smile and shakes his head. “You didn’t know.”
I scowl at him for making excuses for my actions. “You warned me over and over again. And maybe…” My voice begins to crack. “If I had listened, none of this would’ve happened.”
Mason doesn’t take his eyes from mine, his voice so soft, steady, and calm. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened. For his decisions. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t bring a loaded gun to a wedding with the intent to use it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Not able to look at him any longer, I cover my face with my hands and let it all out. Just the thought that Weston could’ve killed him sends me into hysterics. Mason places his hand on my back and tries to comfort me. He eventually pulls me back into his arms, but it’s no use. My body trembles as I think about everything, my mind spiraling and battling between what could’ve happened and what did. Weston, his threats, and the fact he’s no longer here. Maybe if I would’ve pushed harder for him to get help, to stop drinking, it wouldn’t have escalated to this. The root cause of everything is me. I forced him to go to the reception when he clearly didn’t want to go.
I cry against his strong chest until I feel like I have nothing left, until I feel like a hollow shell of myself. He doesn’t say anything as I use his shirt to dry my tears. Eventually, I pull away and look at him. Knowing I look like absolute shit, but I feel so damn pathetic.
“You’re gonna get through this, and so am I. We’re gonna get through this together, Soph. You’re one of the fiercest women I’ve ever known. We’ll survive this.” Mason is so damn calm and sweet, and I don’t deserve it after the way I pushed him away. “I’m always here for you, okay? I know I haven’t been the greatest friend to you over the years, and maybe if I would’ve been nicer, you would’ve actually trusted me when I told you about him. You’re not the only one at fault here. I’m sorry for treating you that way. I hope we can move forward. Start over.” He flashes me a grin, then winks.
A small smile plays on my lips, and I nod. “I’d like that.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re staying here.”
“Wish I would’ve made Liam change his sheets first, though,” I say, chuckling.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, he’s hardly home anymore.” Mason shrugs, and the silence wears on.
“What happened today, Mason? Will you tell me?”
His voice softens. “Soph.”
“Please,” I beg. “I only managed to get bits and pieces, and it doesn’t help that my shock made it hard to comprehend anything. I was so worried about you. It was overwhelming, almost too much to handle at that moment, but I have to know, Mason. I want to hear it from you.”
Mason runs his fingers through his hair and hesitates. I watch as he chews on his bottom lip before rubbing his hand over his jaw. “I don’t even know where to start,” he admits, blowing out a breath.
I patiently wait, not forcing him to speak.
