Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“That might be a bit hard,” Mason says. “Unless you guys are ever in Montana. Then by all means, stop by for dinner.” His tone and his words are so final. It’s definite.
“You’re going back?” Harley asks. “For a visit?”
Mason shakes his head. “Performing with you guys again was great, I’ll admit it, but beyond that… I don’t see my future in Hollywood. I should be home. With my family.”
“We’re your family too,” I point out. Or, I thought at least I was.
“After years and years of playing the same game, what are we going to do? Push ourselves, work our asses off? And then what? Work to death? Die of a freaking heart attack at fifty-two years old? The way Cameron would always talk about the industry, that you need to strike while the iron’s hot, you need to market to the majority, to be successful you have to compromise on the things you want … He pushed himself for all of his acts, and look where it got him. I don’t want to live that life anymore.”
“We’re not going to be about that this time,” Harley says.
“I know from experience if you’re not, this album you want to get done will fail. What then? If Cameron taught me anything, it’s that you have to play this industry’s game or fuck right off. I’m choosing self-preservation on this one.”
That’s it, then. No reunion. No more Eleven. And no more us.
I thought we were the type of couple who would consult each other on these types of big decisions, but maybe that was a delusion. We never defined what we were.
Cameron’s death has affected all five of us differently, and maybe some perspective is what Mason needed to realize what I’ve thought all along.
Holding on to something because you don’t want to lose it, not because you love it, is no way to build a relationship.
This thing between us is over.
I knew it all along, and yet I still hooked up with him anyway. Losing him a second time isn’t just painful; it shatters the already broken pieces of my heart he left two and a half years ago.
I hold it together because I don’t have any other choice. And later, once the other three are drunk, Brix comes to pick Harley up to take him home, Lyric comes for Ryder, but Blake asks to crash in one of my guest rooms. That means Mason and I also go to bed separately so Blake doesn’t find out about us.
It’s probably for the best anyway because I can’t get into everything with Mason tonight. I’m too mentally exhausted to think clearly, and I’m too emotional over Cameron to deal with more grief on top of that.
And there is no doubt that I will grieve over Mason. The part of my heart that has always belonged to him let me have hope.
Fucking hope. That optimistic bastard.
I knew better than to believe in it.
Trying to sleep is pointless because all I can think about is the end. The end of my career if Fandom fails. The end of Eleven because we’re pulling a Taylor Swift and never, ever, ever getting back together.
Worst of all, it’s the end of this deluded fantasy I’ve been living with Mason.
My body yearns for his, and I contemplate sneaking out to the guesthouse to climb into bed with him so I can pretend he’s not leaving, but my head knows that’s a bad idea. My heart breaks at the thought of it. I can’t pretend when I’m utterly heartbroken.
Yet, when my bedroom door opens and Mason slips inside, pretending seems a lot easier than facing it. I’m not ready. Not yet.
“Denny?”
I revel in the way he says my name.
“You awake?”
I’m tempted to stay quiet. Maybe he’ll leave. Then I realize he might walk out that door and keep going. “I’m awake.”
“I know we have stuff to talk about—”
“I don’t want to. Not now.”
“That’s fair.” Mason steps closer to the bed, but in the dark room, I can only see his shadow. I can’t see his face as he says, “Can I sleep next to you?”
“Always.” No, not always. Stupid mouth. There is no always when it comes to Mason and me.
He moves agonizingly slow as he strips down and gets into bed, to the point that by the time he finally settles, I can no longer take not touching him.
I inch my way closer until I’m pressed against his side, and he wraps his arm around me.
Tears spring to my eyes, but it’s unclear what they’re for. Cameron? Mason? Everything?
“I want you to know—” Mason starts, but I can’t. I can’t deal with this.
“Not now. Don’t do this now,” I beg.
“I think we need to. You’re trembling.”
“Because I know what’s coming. You’re going to leave again, only this time, you’re not going to come back.”