Where Would I Be Without You - By CJ Hawk Page 0,46

going to go forward. I had wished he had said something on the ride back to my apartment that reassured me of what he wanted, that being me. I even thought of how nice it would have been if the rest of his family wasn't so quiet when his father spoke up. I guess they are one of those old Catholic families that doesn't speak out against the head of the household. It's not like I can expect everyone to be as outspoken as I am. Lord knows, it has gotten me into more trouble than I would want to admit to. I don't think me sticking up for Mason helped the matter any.

I picked up my phone and put in the text before I could change my mind. Besides, Mason might want an out in this relationship any ways. This text will give it to him. I simply typed in: Need some space, let's give this thing a rest for a bit.

I hit the send button with much trepidation that I was making a mistake. I did not want a breakup, but perhaps a break from any family meddling. Deep down, what I truly wanted was for him to rush over here and confess his undying love for me, wrap me in his arms and show me tenderness for the drama that we just endured. Somehow, I did not see that happening. Watching too many romance movies always put a damper on what really happened in these situations, at least that was what my grown up side of my brain was saying to me.

I grabbed my ereader off my charger, locked up my apartment for the night by putting the safety chain in place, and headed to my room. I was still full from my cupcake mixed with the pity party drama that had my stomach on the edge, so I settled for a hot tea and my fluffy land of twenty or so pillows on my bed and settled in for a good read.

Sometime around ten p.m., I had drifted off to sleep, only to be woken up to my phone buzzing with a text. It was Mason. He was outside my door and wanted in. I didn't move. I froze. I wanted to rush to the door and let him in, but instead my body laid there weak from all the chaotic emotions that had boiled in my head all night. Then my phone lit up with him calling. I had the ringer on silent, but the vibration caused my phone to move about on my nightstand. Then I saw it stopped, and it was as if I had been holding my breath. I picked up my phone and held it, debating whether or not to call him back. I finally settled on checking the voice mail he left me.

As I listened, I ached for his arms to surround me. "Amber. Please call me. We need to talk. I want to apologize for my father's actions, hell, my actions. Listen. We don't need a break, but if you want one, I understand. Call me, okay?"

I was torn. I wanted to call him back so badly, yet I knew the type of man he was; he might actually want the break and just want me to think it was my idea. Wait. It was my idea. But did he want the break and was just making it sound as if he was honoring my decision? I was falling deeper into a crevice of indecision. Calling him now would only make me doubt it more later.

I fell asleep with my phone in my hand out of exhaustion from mental thinking around midnight. I never called back. I wanted to, badly. Somehow, playing hard to get or not playing at all seemed like the more mature thing to do. I wanted him to think that I was putting serious thought into all this, and I was, but I also wanted him to feel bad that I didn't call back, which was immature. I was on the fence about how I was dealing with this, yet I knew seeing him or talking to him right now did me no good. I think? I fell asleep with those questioning thoughts rolling back and forth in my brain.

When I woke, I had to trudge through getting ready. By the time I was three blocks from my apartment, my car died. It made a gagging sound and sputtered, then nothing. Dead. Wouldn't start or