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“Erica,” he growls.
“Without my consent, I might add!” she snaps, then turns to me. “He’s booked me into some rehabilitation center, and he didn’t even have the decency to talk to me about it first!”
“Because you would have said no!” he fires back.
“Of course I would. I don’t need to go to some stupid hospital, a thousand miles from home. I’m fine!”
“No, you are not! You are anything but fine. You need help, and we can’t keep going like this. You are going. End of story.”
“Like hell I am! You can’t make me.”
“I swear to God, Erica,” my father snarls. “If you don’t go and get the help you need, I’m filing for a divorce.”
“You wouldn’t?” my mother gasps.
“Try me,” he counters. “This shit has to end. I can’t take it anymore, and I can’t live like this any longer. I refuse to sit back and watch you destroy yourself and this family any more than you already have.”
My mother’s eyes narrow as fury blazes through them. “Fine! Fucking leave then, see if I care.”
“For fuck’s sake,” my father grates, then turns to me. “Ava, would you talk some sense into her, please?”
I glance back and forth between them before turning around and walking out of the room. As selfish as it may seem, I can’t deal with this shit right now. I’ve had to deal with my mother’s crapalonefor years while he buried his head in the sand the whole time. It’s about time he took over. This is their fight. This is their marriage, and it’s his job to save it. I will be out of here in the fall, and I have no intention of ever coming back home.
I trudge up the stairs as they continue to scream at each other, and once I reach my room, I shut the door to drown out the sound.
My father lefta few hours ago, obviously needing to cool off after the good hour they spent yelling at each other. My mother hit the bottle as soon as my father left. As usual, I found her asleep on the couch, with an empty wine bottle on the floor and the photo album clutched to her chest.
I’ve had my phone turned off since Friday and feeling a tad curious, I decided to turn it on. I instantly regret it. The thing starts going off like a firecracker on the Fourth of July. Message after message pops up, Mason’s name flashing across the screen at least thirty-two times. Refusing to read even one, I turn it off and throw my phone to the side.
I honestly don’t know how to make sense of what he has done. I can’t seem to grasp it. All I do know is that everything we had was built on a lie. Just like the person I thought he was is as far from who the real Mason Reynolds is. The person who conspired with my enemy to shatter my world is a stranger to me. A stranger hidden behind a caring, funny, and intelligent man. Was I naive? Was I so entirely blinded by my love for him that I didn’t see what was hidden beneath the surface? Did I ever see who he really was, or was Hadley the only one who got that privilege?
The light rap on my bedroom door pulls me from my thoughts, and as I sit up, my door opens, and Eric steps into the room, a pizza box in hand. “Hey. I brought you dinner.”
Placing the pizza down on my dresser, he makes his way over and stands at the foot of my bed. “I tried to call you, but your phone is turned off,” he says softly. “How are you holding up?”
My throat tightens, and unable to answer him, I give him a shrug. The fear that as soon as I speak, my resolve will weaken keeps my mouth firmly shut. I’ve been content to bask in the numbness that comes with feeling this empty, but one look at my dear friend and I feel that emptiness start to fill with overwhelming emotions.
Tear after tear streams down my face, and unable to hold it in any longer, I choke out a sob. “Eric.”
“Oh, Ava.” He climbs onto the bed and pulls me into his arms. I bury my face into his chest and cry. The ugly kind. Eric holds on to me tight as I cry until I have no tears left, and once I have calmed down, he leans back against the headboard, keeping me locked against his chest. “Talk to me, baby girl. Tell me everything that happened.”
So I do.
I tell him everything right from the beginning, and by the time I am finished, he is breathing so hard that I am genuinely concerned he will pass out. Lifting me from his chest, he gets off the bed and starts pacing the room.
“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch with my bare hands,” he snarls, baring his teeth. “Why did he do this?”
“He told me it was because he wanted to be with me.”
“This is some seriously messed-up shit.” He shakes his head. “He told me he loved you, and I believed him. I really thought he loved you.”
My chin trembles, my gaze shifting to the floor. “I thought he did too.”
“I can’t believe this was all a game.” He continues to pace, shaking his head again. “It can’t be.”
“I don’t want to believe it either, but I found him in bed with her. He said he doesn’t remember, but how am I supposed to believe that when everything has been a lie? I just… don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
I drop my head and start sobbing again. Eric rushes back over and wraps his arms around me again. “Shh. It’s okay. You are going to be okay.”
