I wanted that reminder gone. I didn’t know how to make that happen, so I cut it off,” I tell him. Mason sighs and snuggles closer.
“How many times have you tried to kill yourself?” he asks as his voice sounds pained.
“Including the one when you found me? Three.”
“Fuck,” he grumbles under his breath. “I would take it all from you if I could. I would steal every bad memory from you and make you remember only the good ones.”
As much as I’d love that I know it can’t happen. Mason sounds just as sad as I feel. It hurts me to know that I’m the one causing it.
“One of these days I will be gone Mason. One day none of this will be able to hurt me anymore. I’ve tried to make peace with it, but it’s so damn hard. Everything seems to be coming back full circle and it’s fucking crushing me.”
Admitting that to him was harder than I thought it’d be. Mason doesn’t say a word he just holds me. It’s not until I feel his breath on my skin that I know he fell asleep. I shift in his grasp and roll over so that I can face him. I run my fingers over the stubble on his chin, feeling the softness of his lips, and even up over his eyes, as if committing his face to memory.
“I could get lost in you. I could get lost in everything you are, but what good would that do me? What happens when you’re gone too?”
“Don’t do that to yourself Whit.” Glancing up I see Jackson standing in my doorway.
“It’s just the way it is Jackson. I don’t have anything to give him in return.”
“Maybe he just wants you? Maybe your heart? Did you ever stop to think about that?” he asks softly, trying not wake the sleeping beast.
“He couldn’t possibly have them Jackson. The devil owns them. You know that.”
Chapter 23
Mason
I left Whit sleeping happily the other morning. I’ve sent her a text and called her letting her know that I have a lot of shit going on at the club, but that I’d see her soon.
“No. The answer is fuckin’ no Mason. Where the hell do you even come up with shit like that?” Viking roars.
I suppose bringing this to his attention might not have been the best idea I’ve ever had. She’s a nobody to this club. She’s just someone to me.
“Somethin’ happened between them Viking. I don’t wanna have to fuck him up when I see him,” I tell him truthfully. Viking takes a long pull of his beer before setting it back on the table.
“She ain’t your old lady Mason. She ain't shit to this club. We’ve been workin’ with Armando for years. What the fuck makes you think that I’m gonna fuck our biggest Columbian connection over a piece of ass that you’ve been stickin’ your dick in? This is our club Mason. Do I need to remind you of that?”
I knew it was a risk talking to Viking about this. I knew the way he’d see it, but I had to fucking try anyway.
“I get it Viking. I really do. Fuck! I just want to do what I can to help her,” I admit. Viking blows out a breath and leans back in his chair.
“I hear you Mason. I do. You’re my VP. This club owes you big time for the shit you’ve handled, but she isn’t one of us. It’s your piece of ass on the side, you hear me? Whatever it is she means to you, well you need to bottle that shit up. We can’t let some pussy bring this club to its knees.”
Scratching at the scruff on my jaw, I contemplate my next move. There are very few things I can do right now. I can walk away from her, I can defy my club, or I can walk away from the club altogether. None of those seem like the right choice, and none of them make sense for me to do.
“I get it brother. I’m not droppin’ her, but I will back off Armando. For now,” I tell him. I need to think this over. I need a plan. If shit heads south, I need to be prepared for it.
“For now? No, you drop it forever Mason.”
“Can’t do that, but for now it’s over. I don’t make promises I know I can’t keep, Viking. You know me,” I remind him. His eyes flicker to me before recognition